I DIED HUNDRED DEATHS

I DIED A HUNDRED DEATHS
(Note: I’m the new kid on the block (chain) and posted a similar post last week before I discovered the supernatural writing contest. I hope this re-posting is ok.)

Perhaps it is the fact that I have a strong placement of Scorpio in my astrological natal chart (Scorpio is the sign of “earth magic” as I call it) that opens me to all sorts of unusual experiences. As an astrologer I have found that those with this configuration in their charts frequently make great astrologers, tarot card readers, shamans, energy healers, Reiki Masters, and mediums, among other things. What gifts do I have? I am an intuitive astrologer, I’ve conversed with and seen those who have passed to the other side, I’ve had visions and dreams of past lives and I’ve had realms of the spirit opened to me during meditation that one would expect from drinking ayahuasca or using peyote...these kind of things. But I consider the month long period of time I experienced death over a hundred times as one of the most remarkable experiences of my life.

It began about 18 months ago as I lay in bed waiting for sleep to overtake me that I
experienced death the first time. I was not yet asleep, but rather in that twilight stage right before sleep where consciousness is drifting, when the mind is relinquishing its dominion to other realms, and the physical body is slowly giving itself over to slumber. It is in this place that strange things happen, where bumps in the night and spirits in the room become tangible. However, I must say my death/visions were quite “real” in a most remarkable way. They were much more powerful than what my mind could dredge up in that near-sleep state.

I recall the first death very clearly. I found myself on an ancient battlefield amidst massive chaos and the overwhelming cacophony of sound of hand-to-hand combat with swords, spears and maces. And then I was run through the gut with a sword. The raving gore-covered man who slew me pulled the sword out with a practiced twist and trampled over me to his next opponent. I was stunned, shocked, and utterly and absolutely overwhelmed with knowing I was a dead man as I clutched my leaking gut with blood drenched hands. I died and then I bolted upright in my bed, eyes bulging, gasping for breath, trying to come back to the reality of my room and surroundings. “God”, I exclaimed, “Oh, my God!”. I sat there for some minutes reliving the vision in my mind. I had never had anything like that happen in any dream. It was so absolutely real.

Finally, I lay back down and slowly drifted off toward sleep once more. And then I died again, but this time it was another death. I can’t recall the nature of this death simply because it was one of many yet to come. But once more I experienced death as if it was actually happening. I felt the extreme emotions one may feel at death’s door. I experienced the horror and helplessness one might feel from sudden violent death. The mental and emotional anguish was an eruption of overwhelming and immediate sensations I’d never experienced before. The physical sensations usually were diminished compared to the emotional and mental shattering of consciousness but at times, like when I was burnt to death, they too, were overwhelming.

That first night I died three times, and each time I bolted upright in my bed, gasping, disoriented, traumatized and stunned. After the third death, I slept. The next night, not expecting anything unusual, I went to bed an innocent lamb to the slaughter (really). I don’t recall having any anxiety or concern that the vivid experiences of the previous night would return. But they did. Again three times exactly as the night before. However, the nature of the deaths was different. And like the first three deaths I woke stunned and amazed. This unusual process continued to occur on a nightly basis for about 40 nights.

Once I realized these “deaths” were going to be a nightly routine I almost looked forward to it. It was so novel and amazingly real that I found myself anticipating bedtime, wondering what deaths I would experience next. Frankly, I cannot recall all of the deaths but here are some: I died in a burning building, I died from drowning, once in a sailing ship during a storm on the ocean, another time in a river. I died during the Black Plague of the middle ages in Europe from the bubonic plague and experienced the despair of rotting flesh, erupting buboes full of blood and pus, and raging fever and fear. I died several times on the battlefield (a couple of times being decapitated). I was tortured to death (this was a particularly nasty death). One of the most horrifying deaths was to be attacked by a shark. Being torn apart by some beast as it ripped it’s teeth into my face was, of course, beyond horrifying. I was crushed and broken upon a field beneath stones I was moving as a slave (I’m assuming I was a slave). I starved. I froze. I bled. I rotted. Oh, and naturally I was hung by the neck until dead.

Finally, after an unbroken string of deaths, three times a night, for over a month I was totally weary of it. I could do no more. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. So on the last night, after the first dream/vision I called out to whatever spiritual force was bringing this macabre parade to me, “That’s enough! I’ve had enough! No more!”. And it stopped, never to return.

I began pondering this bizarre chain of deaths and wondered what the purpose was. At first my attention, when contemplating these deaths, was upon the actual experience that caused death, but then I realized there was a thread of experience I had overlooked. Each time I died I did not die! Yes, the physical body was dead but the spirit or soul essence still lived. In the dreams/visions, before I bolted upright in bed, I was still “alive”. Death, obviously, caused extreme duress but once the threshold of death was crossed I yet lived. There was no interruption of life at all. Dieing was as simple as a blink of an eye. One hundred times I crossed over to the other side. Perhaps this was the message I was meant to receive: there is no death. Life, consciousness, is constant and continuous.

I also pondered if these deaths were mine from other lifetimes or if they were deaths experienced by ancestors or if they were, perhaps, a sampling of deaths humans experience. I think, frankly, they were mine from other lifetimes. That makes the most sense to me. Of course, having gone through this I gained a great appreciation for the utter vulnerability and unspeakable suffering one might experience while dying. I definitely have gained a greater compassion for those who die in extreme conditions. Another interesting thing has occurred: the natural fear of death I once had is virtually gone. I know my spirit will yet live. Death is a piece of cake, as simple as the next breath.

I had never heard of anyone having this kind of experience but figured surely others had. Months later, while reading The Wise Heart, an exceptional book of Buddhist psychology by Jack Kornfield, the prolific and profound Buddhist author and teacher, I found a simple passage where he shared that he too had the experience of dying numerous times.

I’m including a poem I’ve written that is appropriate to the subject:

FABRIC

I sense a gentle fabric
Stretching from the distant past
Upon which is woven
So many of my names,
Poet, Priest, Warrior, Fool…

And the Great I AM
Tells me, my eyes,
Have never closed.

Perhaps death then,
Is simply
A gossamer veil
I will brush through
One more time.