Death is your gift

The body rapidly deteriorates in leaps. One day you're older and you are what you were yesterday.

Have you ever had that feeling when you notice the day is gone? It can feel like seconds since sunrise.

Westley is familiar with that feeling.

He hated school. As a small child, waking up in the morning was a joy, his stomach burst with excitement. The older he got, the more he hated school. He was never bullied. It was the teachers and pesky rules that held him back.

By the time he entered high-school, his stomach sank most mornings like bricks had been ingested. This inspired a strange trick. When the alarm would sound and the day ahead looked grim, he thought, "The day will be over. The point when the final bell goes will happen. And when it does, I get to go practice and see friends!"

Then when the final class came and the clock read 2:35, the bell lifted his heart as he remembered lying in bed, feeling the weight of bricks a moment ago.

He thought, "I will graduate and be done with school. The day will come." In a flash, he was standing on a stage shaking the principal's hand.

After graduating there was peace for a moment until work turned into toil. The morning bricks returned but a voice from deep within called out a warning: Why does the brain seek pleasure? The long day will be over. Death is a moment away.

Westley started to listen closely to his voice. He couldn't have imagined what he would discover.

"Silence grew and became intense, wider and deeper. The brain which had listened to the silence of the hills, fields, and groves was itself now silent. It had become quiet naturally, without any enforcement. It was still, deep within itself. Like a bird that folds its wings it had folded upon itself. It had entered into depths which were beyond itself. It was a dimension which the brain could not capture or understand. And there was no observer witnessing this depth. Every part of one's whole being was alert, sensitive, but intensely still. This new, this depth was expanding, exploding, going away, developing in its own explosions out of time and beyond space." -Jiddu Krishnamurti

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original art by @skypal