For my part, I believe that consciousness survives death. I believe, based on considerable study, that this is the only conclusion supported by the actual evidence.
And yet, our goal, we are told by those who have apparently passed on, is evolution, growth. We have to expand, grow beyond our ego selves.
But who is left when this is done? Are you still recognizably you? Is there a point where you take a final, divine breath, and merge with something?
It seems to me that we are built to fear dissolution. We are built to favor survival, continuation. This is in our genes, in our bodies, in our animal selves.
Yet, I would contend that even if there is no final moment when we cease to be as discrete entities, it is still useful to be able to visualize it. It is when work is done.
We die nightly. We “fall” into sleep. We throw ourselves into sleep. We lose consciousness, assuming we will awaken again, and of course most of the time we do.
But we have to consent to die. We have loosen our grasp on our faculties, on our senses, on our minds and bodies.
And I think it is precisely the openness needed to consent to die which facilitates growth.
I did Holotropic Breathwork last week, and one of my “emergences”–this may be the word I use in the future–was being nailed to a cross. It filled me with grief and terror, and I had some powerful physical reactions.
But the space was filled with green. It was not a sad space.
And in my next session I was hanging on the cross, and found it congenial. I laugh to say this, but I did feel supported by the cross (in the sense that I was physically hanging from it). From this vantage point I watched humanity in all its griefs, stupidities, and futile efforts. I saw failure from ignorance, failure from pain, failure from violence.
There were moments when I was sitting, too, where the room darkened (visibly: I assumed a cloud was passing over the sun, but it felt deeper than that), where people were crying and moaning, that I felt a deep sense of the terror of being human, of feeling lost, of struggling and falling, never knowing which way is up, who to trust, where to go.
Death gives you this. As Carlos Castaneda said, it is a valuable adviser.
I continue to make progress.