My daily motivator.
A gift -- or hard pass?
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You know what’s waiting for you at the end of all this?
No. What? my client said.
The cemetery.
They paused, then laughed. I’m sure they expected a complex woo answer.
Now every time we have a session, my client mentions this convo with a slightly different take — and we laugh again.
It’s not exercise. Yoga. QiGong. Love. Money. Weight. Investments. My next home. It’s not family, new friends or my soulmate. It’s not the trips or the books I’ve yet to read or write.
It’s death.
Some may find the thought morbid. Overwrought. Easily ignored.
Yet Death still waits. The real tiktok.
Death is my great motivator.
I wake up and death is behind my thank you for a new day. I dream, and Death shows up in different forms. My father waits for death, resistant and fearful — while my gentle mother flew out of this world, fighting the EMT who tried to give her oxygen.
Both parents taught valuable information on how to greet death. Who says you can’t learn something new?
I’ve met Death, once or twice.
Once in a dream I walked the underworld with a friend, demanding to speak to Death. He showed up as a priest with his wife Fertility and six children. The latest death visit was Artemis — great goddess Artemis in full garb — in a modern, ugly cemetery.
I said, You’re Death??
To which she replied, Who did you think I was?
We stood there and I grew excited, like Let’s go — while a black hand extended and then slid across the periphery of my eye and disappeared. Even though I was a little scared, I called out, See you soon, Death!
These dreams prepare the road — and yeah, it would be pretty freaking cool if I met Artemis.
My Earth visit isn’t over. Not yet, but soon. There were earlier exit points I sailed past but once I’m satisfied — time to go.
A wisp here, a cross there. Legacy means nothing to me.
The thought of death is an amazing vaporizer of stress.
Whenever a restlessness or sense of dissatisfaction arises, I say, There are only three decades left. This is not worth it.
I’ve accepted death for what it is. A gift.
It’s not like life has been one big joyride, as much as I dig it now. I’m not cavalier; I’m curious. Death is a release, an unknown that will not be usurped by mankind and (I hope) a return to a loving Oh, I get it now. Am I nervous? Sure. That’s a normal human response, especially after being raised in a religious environment that squeezed universal consciousness into limited, fearful concepts such as heaven/hell/God is a male.
Just have a funny feeling that it’s a whole lot more than that.
Talk about manifestation: I imagine how I’ll die AND the first thing after flying away from this body.
Call me a control freak — but I’m not leaving death to chance. You won’t see me spinning around Earth, looking for an exit or clinging to some shadow form of human, puzzled why no one can hear me. No earthbound spirit in my future!
I don’t spend time manifesting earthly things so much anymore. At times I’ll imagine the future on a deeper level (home/love/biz success, etc) while acknowledging that the result provides a valuable but momentary buzz. Fleeting when stacked against the life to come. That’s why I practice visualizing all of these questions.
Where am I going?
What does it look like?
What do I want it to look like?
Who greets me, if anyone?
How will I know I’m “me” — and what is “me”?
How will I know I’m “dead”?
Where do I direct my energy?
Who do I call upon?
Where do I land, if at all?
I get comfortable with the unknown and carry on, grateful to still be here as I’ve finally made friends with life, right before I leave it.
