Sacred Transitions

12/04/2020

Surrender - entirely new approach to dying.

In this interesting 10 minute video, Alan explains that often people experience sudden enlightenment (Satori) when placed under extreme circumstances and the on

01/04/2020

So. There's this sonnet by a 16th century poet, scholar, and cleric named John Dunne that I learned in high school in San Francisco, California, from my beloved English teacher, Mr. Poirier. The sonnet is called 'Death, Be Not Proud' and, as I tend to with songs and poems, I still remember every word of it by heart.

In the early days of the quarantine, I was freaking out quite a bit and now that I've calmed down, stopped abusing my lungs, been loading up on vitamins, exercising, cooking, cleaning, reading, and enjoying my solitude, the poem keeps popping up in my head.

The poet addresses himself to Death and tells it not to be so arrogant and proud of itself. He tells it all the reasons for which it's not as special and mighty as it might think. I don't want you to think the poem's message is flippant. It's just that a bit of bravery and defiance are also a good vitamin. I do believe that.

Death, be not proud
BY JOHN DONNE

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Death, Be Not Proud
Interpreted for the modern reader by Gila Primak

Death, don't be proud, even though some have called you
"mighty" and "dreadful", because you're not!
Even though you think you have defeated some people, you haven't - they're not really dead, you loser, nor can you kill me. And I'll tell you why. Rest and sleep are small "deaths" of sort, aren't they? And they're quite enjoyable! By that rationale, you, death, must be even more enjoyable. The wisest men and women know this, and are therefore not afraid to go with you, because they know their bones will be at rest and their souls will be in a better place. You, death, are not always in control: sometimes you're just a matter of chance or circumstance, sometimes kings decide when you come or the desperate men who think there's no way out but death might invite you of their own accord. Yours is the ugly world of poison, war, and sickness. And, besides, you're not the only one who can make us feel dead - so can certain drugs. So what are you so proud of yourself for? Once we briefly 'die', or our body does, our soul awakens for all eternity, and death is no longer relevant. In fact, it's dead. Get over yourself, bitch. 😉

By Gila Primak

25/03/2020

Death is really — at its core — the fear of the unknown. This is why those who are doing authentic spiritual work are going to be less affected by a crisis like the Coronavirus. If you’ve experienced yourself beyond the physical dimension and connected to the infinite aspect of your consciousness that will continue to exist long after your body has deceased, there is no reason to fear death.
The Coronavirus — an “invisible” threat — confronts us with our relationship to the spiritual realms, which we cannot navigate with our five senses.

Examining our mortality is also an access point into more deeply understanding the biologically ingrained survival mechanisms that run so much of our day to day lives. Truth is, the vast majority of humans — regardless of income bracket — do not feel safe and secure in the world, and are plagued by anxiety and stress because of it.
Isn’t it amazing that death — an initiation every single human being must face eventually — is so taboo in our culture? Indigenous cultures create elaborate rites of passage for their youth to confront and even embrace the reality of death, so they may be free from the fear of it. Rituals around death were and are commonplace, necessary initiations in ancient cultures. We have lost these ways. Today, our fear of death has tampon commercials showing period blood as blue instead of red, so we don’t have to face the truth. We can’t even connect to the death of the animals we consume in such copious quantities. Meat products are neatly shrink wrapped and disguised with names like “hot dogs” and “burgers” so we don’t have to think about the reality of the sacrifices we so casually pull off the grocery shelf while scrolling through our instagram feed. There is no more tangible connection to the cycles of life and death that occur in the natural world, and that connection is now ready to re-awaken, bringing with it the hard yet sweet realization that:
Nothing is guaranteed.
When we truly embrace the truth that we are all going to die, that life is a profound gift and each breath is a privilege — every moment becomes infinitely precious.

Beautifully expressed by

20/03/2020

~ Just recognize what an adventure this transformation is... the appreciation of death and the spiritual journey after death is the prerequisite for living life joyfully now... death does not have to be treated as an enemy for you to delight in life... keeping death present in your consciousness as one of the greatest mysteries and as the moment of incredible transformation. Infuse this moment with added reaches and with energy that otherwise is used up in denial... I encourage you to make peace with death, to see it as culminating adventure of this adventure called life. It is not an error, it is not a failure, it is taking off a tight shoe which you have worn well ~ Ram Dass

14/03/2020

Legacy project is precisely what I do during times of uncertainty!

Written by: Christine Borchert

11/03/2020

DIE BEFORE YOU DIE - LIVING BURIALS (PART 2)

I also shared with Kate my reflection on my aspiration to practice as a death educator, death doula, celebrant: “I just can’t believe I chose this… Surrendering one's life is so hard… I saw very clearly that there was no way to choose surrender, and moreover there was no way to teach someone surrender… how could I have chosen this impossible career,” I sobbed. Kate responded: “Darling, it chose you, because you’re ready for it.” This strong sentence rang true within me as I kept on crying, and just trying to imagine how I will be able to guide someone on such an intense journey. I clearly saw that I’m so powerless in the face of it that I could only hope that some higher power would take me through it. Who am I without it, after all, just a bunch of thoughts and emotions… It’s humbling to realize the deep powerlessness of this little human… It leads to an understanding of the essence of the Dhumavati archetype: the profound human misery that we endure when we’re too weak, too lonely, too anxious, too overpowered by the impersonal wheel of nature. The experience exposed to me a major need for divine intervention. But how can one manufacture it?

I knew the answer.

Ceremony changes everything, because using it reminds us that we are not alone in our struggles. I know from experience that it is possible to awaken a larger feeling of connection using a guide, a supportive group, and the Higher Self (God, Divine Consciousness - whatever you call it depending on your belief system). Our individual loads to bear in life become lighter when we come together.

Ritual–the language of spirituality–binds us to the whole of creation, and it is in this bond that we can encounter the sacred. Ceremony, therefore, is like a container that holds a series of rituals, all of which come together for one purpose – to recognize a sacred (special) event. And this is an opportunity for a major shift.

I've practiced this before in my work and very much successfully. I’ve learned a lot about what is needed. A container is needed. A safe, sacred space. I realized that this is what was lacking in my own living purial experience.,It was a powerful realization as it wasn’t just theory: I experientially understood the giant importance of the need for ceremony and ritual to help us through challenging times at every level of my being.

Here is how the ceremony can be structured.

- Consecration - offering the fruits of our actions to the divine: it is an intention to surrender and to be guided by something larger than ourselves.
- Sacred space - even some lines in the sand to indicate our special territory is enough, but also a tea ceremony, altar space, candles, incense, sacred objects are very supportive. It’s the symbolic action sanctified by personal faith or spiritual tradition.
- The two aspects of ritual – heart and hand, or intention and action – work together to focus our minds on the implications of what we are doing.
- There is great power in sitting in a circle. For when we sit facing one another, we open ourselves to each other, working together instead of working alone.
- Holding each other’s hands, or eyegazing and meditating together to create an emotional container of trust. It is important that we are assured that we are safe and well cared for.
- Mindfulness. Being fully present allows us to find that place within ourselves where we can encounter the divine. Many spiritual traditions believe that to experience God, the energy of creation, or a higher consciousness, we first need to be present and pay attention. Ritual can help us to do that – to center on the moment so that we might, as William Blake wrote, “see a world in a grain of sand and eternity in an hour.”
- A slow and conscious process of burial, continuous emotional support and energetic connection - the guide must be able to enter the altered state together with the journeyer - rationalization doesn’t work. It’s crucial for the guide to have a certain degree of empathy in order to create this energetic and emotional level of attunement.
- Concluding ritual and aftercare
The main purpose of ceremony is to create a conscious connection – to ourselves, to others, to the Earth, to Spirit, to God. This in turn facilitates our growth, healing, and personal transformation. Death can remind us that we are part of a great and grand design, something much, much bigger than we are alone.

I believe that death is the most sublime experience we go through, and that human beings can try to expand their consciousness in order to bypass our limitations. There is no guarantee that it will work perfectly, but the effort to enter a more sublime state of mind and call upon a higher power is fertile ground for a transcendental experience.

This very challenging experience of living burial created a definite and lasting shift in my psyche. After this “coming out of the grave” the world around started to shine more brightly. I’ve been feeling more present and intuitive, and simply joyful for being alive. “Dying before I die” experiences continue to teach me humility, compassion and gratitude.

Editor Gila Primak

07/03/2020

DIE BEFORE YOU DIE - LIVING BURIALS (PART 1)

I was inspired to get to know death from every possible angle. This would not be my first foray into this subject, as my vulnerability work with clients has for years entailed a significant element of death in the form of the disintegration of ego, a temporary release from the heavy conditioning that holds us as prisoners of our subconscious. I have and continue to study the topic through my travels in India, observations of funerals in Varanasi, studies with spiritual masters, and my own so-called extreme sporting activities, all of which I have written about on various occasions. And so, I was feeling a responsibility to understand death more deeply in light of my new endeavors, studies, journey, call it what you may. As luck would have it, I soon heard of someone offering living burial experiences on Koh Phangan, in Thailand.

Sasha, a Russian girl with lots of skill in the matter, was offering the experience of digging a human-sized hole in the sand on the beach for the journeyer to get “buried” in for a few minutes. A rig made of a snorkeling or gas mask was used for breathing while the tip of the hose would remain on the surface of the ground. Sasha did not necessarily describe what she was offering as burials per se, she said it all depends on the journeyer. She explained that some saw it as sensory deprivation or a relaxation- type of experience, some imagined themselves as the root of a tree, others wanted to connect to the earth element, and still others were simply adventurous. When I asked how it usually goes emotionally, she said that it varies a great deal: some people find it boring and some have panic attacks, with a whole range of possible scenarios in between these two extremes. As I conceived it, this was to be a living burial for me and so I asked about the ritual work. Sasha explained that she offers clients a safe technical ex*****on of the process, but that everyone designs their own journeys or rituals according to their own needs. Fair enough, I figured.

It all sounded reasonable to me and I simply summoned a couple of friends to support me during the process. One of them, Kate, happend to have been contemplating Goddess Dhumavati during those days. Dhumavati is a Goddess who represents old age, poverty, frustration, helplessness, and despair. Isn’t it amazing the way Hindus find sacred qualities and wisdom in all aspects of life, even those that we consider ugly? Dhumavati teaches mortals Surrender before handing them over to Kali, the final dissolution by time and death. By destroying our illusions, Kali takes us to Shiva, the Divine Consciousness, the Ultimate Reality, the Void…. Kate felt inspired to watch me during this burial, as the burial presents an opportunity to meet one’s fears, doubts, and despair and to feel what it’s like to face helplessness and death. As Kate shared this about Dhumavati with me, it felt very timely, as I had wanted to try this experience for similar reasons in my ambition to become a better death doula and death educator. Up until that point, I had only associated death with Kali the destroyer and creator, I didn’t consider that there might be a whole fascinating stage before one reaches her. And so it turned out that Dhumavati was the central figure in my burial adventure.

We arrived at a beautiful beach in sunset, with very few people around and stunning views and the sounds of waves. I was in a good mood and felt totally emotionally unprepared to be buried. In fact, I was in denial. It all seemed like children’s games. Sasha was making it look very easy as she had done it many times, for herself and for others. She was used to much more radical practices involving flesh hook suspension, which sounded too intense to me. I started digging my own grave and found it rather amusing. The Phangan sand felt light and my gathered friends were making jokes. The air was a perfect temperature, the water was blue and the sand was white - nothing could possibly go wrong. Finally, I got some help with the digging so that I could take a break and begin to meditate to prepare myself for the journey. While I was meditating, I began to feel uneasy. I kept my eyes open as I looked into this freshly dug grave. A perfect grave in the sand, exactly my size. Something felt very finite about it: the view of a grave triggers very intense associations of depressing cemeteries, mourning people with covered heads, tears, feelings of the meaninglessness of all achievements, sorrow for all unaccomplished dreams, dirt, ugliness, misery, despair, helplessness. In short, Dhumavati, just as she is described. After I meditated and felt ready (well, at least I thought so), I descended into the grave. Sasha helped me to put on a snorkeling mask which kind of resembled a gas mask with a hose. Then she grabbed a shovel to start throwing sand on top of my legs, slowly moving up my body.

That was when I realized what was going on: I’m being buried alive. My brain knew that I’m safe, but this didn’t help. My personality became split into very distinct mind and emotional parts, and these two aspects of myself clearly weren’t getting along too well. Panic began to move through my body, I wanted to fight for my survival. I began to notice how, in the course of the internal dialogue, the smart mind suggested that, after all, I’ve BASE jumped, I’ve dived deep into the bottom of the ocean, and so now I can definitely handle some sand on top of my body, what’s the problem? But the body began to shake and I asked Sasha to slow down. It was overwhelming. My heart was now beating so fast, and my breath became both very deep and very fast, simultaneously. Tears of desperation began to flow, I felt myself in an altered state, helpless, doomed to be destroyed. I knew I needed help but I didn’t know what to ask for. Sasha said: “it’s all good, it’s only a thin layer of sand, children do it to each other,” and Sasha herself had gone much deeper underground in her own burial without any struggles, she reminded me, but all I could hear was that my emotions were being completely disregarded. It felt as though I was being told that my emotions are silly and that I shouldn't feel like this. Memories were triggered. I am a little child and I need to get a vaccine shot, and I’m terrified, as though I’m about to be executed. My caregivers are looking at me, annoyed. Really? Come on! Childbirth is 1000 times more painful, this is just a little needle…. Nobody cares how I feel. Lying there, crushed by the sand--Sasha was able to cover half my body before I called for a break--I felt lonely and isolated. It was clear that my feelings could not adjust to my mental commands, they had a life of their own. My reptilian brain was now running the show. I couldn’t just choose to surrender. I was powerless… My survival mechanism was too strong. And then I heard Kate's Voice: “it’s all good, my love, I know how hard it is. I’m here with you,” her voice reached my dimension. She could feel me energetically and this felt so nourishing and supportive that my body relaxed. I was able to tell Sasha to go on, and she started to throw more sand on my chest and arms, it felt heavy. My heart started beating quickly again, and it became harder to breathe because of the pressure of the sand. She finally said - open your eyes! I realized that my facemask is the only thing that was still not covered by sand and that she wanted me to see the moment of blackout… She threw sand on top of my mask.

It became dark. It felt so cruel. I instantly felt like I’m just casually killed by some maniac, who is so disconnected from my feelings, from my aliveness, that she is just there to crush me like a little bug… This was not your everyday (“oh he left me for another woman”) kind of suffering, but a much more primal kind. Waves of genocides, inquisitions, and medieval tortures passed through me, a raw wave of human suffering unfolded within me. I wasn’t physically in pain, but the suffering that went through me felt much stronger than bodily pain. It felt unbearably devastating. These poor souls who lost their lives, suffocated in gas chambers, killed mercilessly for no reason, with absolutely nobody feeling any care or compassion for them. I cried as I felt their horror, their heaviness, their panic. “Why,” came their desperate inquiry, “where is the divine principle in all this,” right before the final blackout. Time no longer felt linear, I was sinking further into desperation, fear, hopelessness. I felt overwhelmed again, my body wanted to move and fight for survival. I felt more sand keep falling on my body and watched my mind as it directed my body not to panic, it was a difficult struggle. Being held fast in bonds, nowhere to go, no possibility of transcendence, is devastating. All I could do was hope for Grace to come, for some resolution, for some clarity. Or for some final blackout. I was clearly failing to find the strength to bear it or to wait for any sort of a happy ending with my human will alone. But nothing came. It just became harder and harder. I felt miserable.

On a physical level, it was dark and warm. Inside that darkness, I observed as I’d go through an ever-accelerating vicious circle: as panic would approach, I would begin to cry, my body would want to shake but be unable to because of the sand, and my lungs would demand heavy gasps of air. As it became harder and harder to expand my diaphragm under the heavy weight of the sand, I would feel even more anxiety and my lungs would demand still more air. Finally, my body’s reflexes took over and I got my arms and my face out from under the sand. Sasha reacted: “you got three minutes.” It felt devastating to hear. That’s all you have to say, I thought. All these inner processes, all these timeless struggles, this intense journey through time… your “three minutes” don’t do any of it even the slightest justice! I felt so lonely. I cried and cried. Sasha finally suggested that I go for a walk or swim in the ocean. I agreed: it felt sufficient.

My friends helped me to get out of my ‘grave,’ they all stared at me without saying a word, and I didn’t feel ready to communicate either. I went to the beach to sit near the ocean. I still felt as though I was in an altered state when Kate approached me. She held my hand as I suddenly felt truly seen. Tears started pouring down my face as I looked at her. She said that she was so impressed with my courage to go into my fears. Right at that moment I caught sight of my habitual perfectionist, the one who strives to be “the hero” by nullifying all of my achievements, as it spoke: “well, Sasha said that some people in St Petersburg like to be left buried overnight, under a thick layer of dirt, without supervision, these must be heroes…” Kate strongly interrupted me: “Don’t you dare devalue what you just went through! These people are not heroes, they’re just numb, that’s why they can easily do it. You are amazing for being so open to feeling this so deeply, and to be able to fully live through such a challenging experience. It’s not about showing off as a hero externally, it’s about being able to fearlessly dive deep within. You are the hero, and don't you ever devalue yourself!” She helped me to catch that heavily conditioned “strive to be a superwoman” within myself, and help me to clearly see that it was my conditioning, the way I was brought up, to achieve the highest possible external accomplishments. It’s not a true voice, this I know now, and I felt relieved to get this reminder - not to give importance to the superficial need for achievement. I didn’t do 20 minutes as I had planned, I only did 3 before calling my safeword but the insights I gained are priceless.

How often in life had I not been compassionate towards myself, how often had I completely disregarded some powerful inner work or outer achievements, believing the harsh judgements of my mind that I’m not good enough, that others are way better and that I have to do more. Now what I’d really like is to have a Kate within myself, so that I might evaluate life from a whole different vantage point… To measure my self-worth not by external heroic achievements but by love, authenticity and compassion. I had been looking for these externally, but now I know to search for them within. Ironically, it took a contemplation of death to make me so fiercely aware of what truly matters in life.

Edited by Gila Primak

27/02/2020

Death - My Life’s Companion

I was an odd, bright, sensitive child. Spending a lot of time in nature on my own, I would tell my mother that I went to spend time with my friends and I would tell my friends that my mother didn’t let me go out into the woods with them. Since I can remember myself, I have been attuned to nature. I could spend hours sitting on the grass and just watching the little creatures’ life unfold in front of my little quiet self. In nature, there is no death, just endless transitions and life cycles. Animals are not afraid to die, they fight for their life until the very end and they die without fear.

In my teenage years, I became obsessed with ideas of internal escapism. First, I went to my cultural roots - to sing in the choir of the Russian Orthodox church. Then came various gurus and meditations. After that, or perhaps simultaneously, came psychedelics and then other drugs. When I was only 16, as I held his hand, my boyfriend died from a drug overdose. Acute heart failure, to be precise. At that moment, rather than feel pure horror, I got the feeling that something very important had just happened. I suddenly became keenly aware that my dear friend's soul had just left this body, and that this was just a transition - an early one to be sure, but nevertheless both natural and important. I stopped being afraid of death after that.

I had seen death take place before my very eyes and it looked peaceful rather than frightening. I began to think about death, my own death. But as a spiritual being, I did not contemplate it in fear. I came to believe that death is just another cycle of an eternally existing soul that resides in my body for this life cycle, and that death exists for a reason. Death thus became my companion, my judge and my teacher.

Questions from Mother Death help me not to forget what’s important. “Do you want to die in the place where you live,“ she asks. Now, for the first time in my life, the answer is yes, and the difference it makes to my life is palpable. “Would you keep this if you were to die soon,” it inquires and I easily let go of attachments, relationships, and material things that, it turns out, I don’t need. “Will it matter in the face of death?” In response to this, most of my life’s “tragedies” turn out to be little things. Death's central message is: at the end of your life, you can be certain that death awaits you, and yet you are denied the privilege of knowing exactly when, so consider how you want to conduct your life until then.

Contemplating this infuses my life with meaning and brings me comfort. It assists me with remaining present and focusing on what matters. Of course I am not successful all of the time, but talking to my Death helps me through my life. I am very grateful that I am a mortal being. Death is what I am headed toward.

I had no say in my birth and was not consciously aware during the important moment that was the start of my life. But I can, and believe I should, seek a meaningful and peaceful death. After a full, productive life, free of nonsense - my own or other people's. I can try to keep my body healthy and exercised so that it works well until the very end, and leave it without hesitation when the time comes, even if it comes early. I can keep my mind clear and trained so it, hopefully, doesn’t leave my body before it dies. The irony is that preparing for my death in this way makes my life full, free, interesting and adventurous, which is the way I want it to be. I am deeply grateful to the Universe and the Order of Things (if such things exist and can be thanked) for making us mortal beings. This is a true gift and a blessing profound in its beauty.

~ Katya Belykh

Edited by Gila Primak

27/02/2020

DEATH HAS MY LIFE

~ It is what death does best: it breathes life into the living ~

In the story of my life, death has been my savior. This does sound odd - for one, I’m still alive. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve had various near-death experiences that helped me to enlighten my life.

It all started during my school years. I grew up in post-soviet Russia, in its southern part of it, known as the North Caucasus, a very traditionally-minded area. I was a depressed child. I spent my early childhood in hospitals to undergo multiple surgeries in order to cure my birth trauma which, unfortunately, had been diagnosed pretty late--by which time I could walk and talk and complain about the pain in my legs. When I was 4 my parents divorced, and it was a traumatic experience. Once school started, I felt like an outcast, I didn’t fit in, I was introverted and constantly bullied. I remember that I started questioning why I was even brought into this world, what was the point? I felt worthless and confused. The only time that had given me hope was the year just before school, during which I lived in the village with my grandparents. They had given me care and nourishment and taught me how to appreciate nature. My grandfather would carry me around after my operation, while my legs healed. To the lakeside to fish, or he would lay me out under the fruit trees and teach me about the doves he raised.

During my school years, however, things started to go downhill. I found myself utterly depressed and suicidal at 14, looking for meaning. I’d run away all alone to the outskirts of the city to walk mindlessly around the fields, forests and abandoned factories. During one of these walks I noticed something unusual - white parachutes floating towards the ground. I heard a plane. Then, like a lightning bolt, these are skydivers jumping, and I need to do it! It felt like a possible leap into freedom, a major reset, or a controlled su***de. For two years before I reached 16, the minimum age, I was full of hopes and fantasies - one day I’ll be a parachutist! Soon!

Finally the day had come. I would be jumping all alone with a military style parachute, and I was just terrified. I felt as though I’m willfully going to my own demise. I felt as though my past story was being deleted and I no longer had a future. The stepfather that I couldn’t stand and my classmate-bullies no longer bothered me. All mundane problems became superficial and this fear, this uncertainty, was my rocket ride into the Now. I’d been an anxious child but this time an entirely new relationship with fear began to develop in me. Fear felt alive! Fear felt exciting!As I was sitting in a russian post-war biplane waiting for my turn to jump, I felt like I had minutes left to live. I couldn’t believe I’d manage to make myself jump but I knew that if I didn’t jump, they’d push me - these were Russians.

And I jumped. And that was it. I was in freefall. Weightless and free. The world with it’s issues looked tiny and insignificant. I kept falling until I reached for my parachute handle. It opened quickly - a big, white sphere held by the blue, blue sky. It was beautiful. I felt liberated. After I landed, I started to laugh and laugh. I was ecstatic. I knew everything had changed. I didn’t think of other people’s opinions any longer - I now knew my source of joy was to be found only within.When I went back to school I was no longer bullied. My schoolmates sensed my regained confidence and let go of me. I felt infused with joy and an appetite for living. I was hooked. I wanted to experience it again and again. This turned out to be my gateway into adulthood.

Ever since, my life was characterized by a flirtation with danger. I practiced many extreme sports - skydiving, snowboarding, BASE jumping, scuba diving with sharks, and free diving. I spent all my money on this, I broke some bones, and i lost a few friends to these sports. But I can’t imagine life without this. It has saved me from being overwhelmed by breakups, job loss, and the loss of family members and simply from being overwhelmed and stressed by the busyness of life. The feeling of stepping into the unknown and risking it all made me rethink my priorities regularly and understand which problems are worth giving f***s for. I’ve learned to appreciate life and treat it as a gift, so that problems and worries couldn’t stick to me for too long. Dying and being reborn became my receipe for happiness.

By the age of 30 I realized that these states of mind can be accessed in an easier way: I could simply imagine. This is what I like to do when I’m feeling depressed or overwhelmed by problems. I just lie down on my bed, arms and legs open, curtains closed, nobody comes in. It’s dark, maybe a candle. There is a smell of frankincense. I turn on a slow, trippy sort of music that feels like death to me (David Parsons -Dorje Ling for example), and I just sink… I breathe in, tense up my body, hold… and as I breathe out, I let go completely. Sometimes it helps to imagine that I dive to the bottom of the ocean without any oxygen tanks. The weight of the ocean pushes me down and I just effortlessly fall. I imagine that this is it, no more past and future, I’m dying. I just float and feel. The ambience of the space, especially the music keeps me in the zone. I feel my body, which expands and contracts. There are tensions but there is also a sense of expansion. I sink deeper and deeper into this space, without any expectations. Death feels like a bottomless well. Thoughts pass but the thinker is absent. Emotions float up but there is no feeler present. “I”have died. Things feel subtle but very alive.

This is my regular meditation. It is a way to die before dying, to see what’s beyond one’s body and mind, to ask oneself what’s really important in life, who am I..... What do I find in it? It’s a process of falling apart at the seams which is a great catharsis that throws me back inside myself, and serves me as a mirror to reflect the truth of who I Am. After the insight, the world looks much fresher and kinder, I no longer pass so much judgement but feel gratitude.

Inna Fialka

Edited by Gila Primak