A Good Day to Die

I had a bit of a fright on the way home from the airport this morning. Driving home after dropping off my wife and daughter for their early morning flight to North Carolina, a truck suddenly pulled into the lane in front of me. No damage done, just a few extra quick heartbeats. But it did catalyze an interesting question – from an evolutionary perspective.

Am I ready to die?

Sure, it sounds a bit morbid, but hear me out on this one. The question was not if I wanted to die. I certainly do not want to die quite yet: I’m rather enjoying this physical experience. The question addressed whether I was prepared to depart this physical form at this time. In other words, if today is my day to die, could I do so with a feeling of completeness and acceptance?

Some Native American warriors, before entering battle, would say a prayer: “Today is a good day to die.” This was not a death wish, but rather, an acknowledgement of death as a continuation of life and recognition of and desire to tap into the powerful intuitive perceptions that come from their non-physical essence.

I suppose that anytime you drive on the freeway you are entering a battlefield of sorts. And while I did not offer a prayer welcoming death before I began my drive home, the adrenalin that poured through me after the truck incident awakened that same sense of nerve-tingling anticipation.

This question, “am I ready to die, has arisen before often with no clear answer. The last clear answer came, not coincidentally, during Melissa and Ella’s last trip without me. At that time, over a year ago, the answer was a resounding “no!”

The sticking point, back then, was the prospect of never seeing my daughter again. Ella was not yet walking and the thought of missing her first, tentative steps opened a deep well of grief. That grief cascaded outward, projecting scenes of her future that I would miss: Her first attempts at sentences with juxtaposed words and dropped consonants, the anxiousness I would feel about her first dating experiences, driving her to college and helping her move into her dorm-room, handing her off to her future husband. Each of these scenes flashed through my mind, leaving me in tears at the prospect of missing these and so many other poignant moments.

Today, however, my response to the question was quite different. Instead of a welling up of grief, there was a long moment in which I deeply and effortlessly connected with the joy that I have already experienced. In that moment I felt complete. And, in that moment of completeness, I was able to answer, truthfully, that “yes” I was ready to die.

This completeness was an awakening for me. It was not based on having done or accomplished anything. Rather, it was based on my ability to be in a feeling space of acceptance and peace. As I held the question, “am I prepared to die,” in my mind, I was, for that brief, but intensely powerful moment, able to accept that the joy and love I have experienced has been enough.

As I write this, it seems somewhat less significant. And perhaps as you read this, the words will lack the profundity that I felt. But in that moment, driving up I-80, it felt big. I understood, perhaps for the first time, that the peacefulness for which I have been searching has nothing to do with what I have accomplished, or who I know, or how much money I have in the bank. That feeling of peacefulness is based solely on my ability to feel present and complete in each moment.

When I feel complete I am complete. It is that simple.

On the way home, I went for a pre-dawn hike at one of my favorite Marin County trails. Along the way I stopped to sit and absorb the silence and beauty around me. Bubbling up from within the silence arose a sense of how much energy it takes to monitor and maintain my physical body.

When I am “attached” to this life, or in a space where I feel the “need” to stay alive, I invest a great deal of energy to ensure that life in this physical body continues. Most of this energy is unconscious, and yet clearly comprises a large percentage of my overall life energy expenditure.

It was equally clear that all of that energy is wasted. My body knows how to take care of itself with little or no input from me. In fact it knows how to take care of itself far better than I do and my attempts to improve upon what it does best end up causing more harm than good.

Consider for a moment how much these physical bodies can take. They are like Timex watches: They take a lickin’ and keep on tickin.’ How incredible is it that these bodies can survive and recover from car crashes, falls, fights. Think of the self-imposed damage they can withstand from eating unhealthy food, ingesting toxins, and not exercising.

The life force that flows through our bodies is strong and requires no prompting or direction from our minds.

Life desires life!

Our bodies are the physical expression of our non-physical form. They are life and they desire more of it. We don’t have to “do” anything to monitor, ensure or improve upon the state of our bodies.

If, instead of continually trying to ensure our physical survival, we just got out of the way, our bodies would show us how perfectly suited they are to life in this physical environment. They would, if we let them, show us what it feels like to truly thrive. And, by letting go of our need to constantly take care of our bodies, we would gain a huge chunk of extra energy to invest in other areas of our life.

So, is today a good day to die? It certainly is a good day to ask the question, “am I ready to die?” For when you are ready to die, you are then truly ready to fully live and to thrive!

Edward Mills, MIM, is a Law of Attraction Coach, teacher and speaker, empowering people to create an awesome life. You can sign up for his monthly complimentary ezine, Evolving Times, and recieve a valuable Attraction Starter Kit, at his website: http://www.edwardmills.com. You can also read more at his blog: http://www.evolvingtimes.com