Have You Seen Randy Pausch’s “Last Lecture?”

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Just a quick head’s up in case you haven’t seen this video from Randy Pausch. Randy is a professor at Carnegie Mellon University where the professor’s have a tradition of giving their “last lecture:” the lecture they would give if they were dying. Well for Randy, this is not just an exercise. Randy is dying of cancer.

He gave this lecture on How to Achieve Your Childhood Dreams

I could tell you more about it, but I think I’ll leave it to Randy. However, I will encourage you to spend the full 11 1/2 minutes watching this first video all the way through to the end. There are some truly powerful insights at the end.

Here’s the 12-minute “cliff’’s notes version of the lecture he gave on the Oprah show recently:

And here is the full lecture he presented at Carnegie Mellon. This one is over an hour.


Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Desires, Dreams, Inspiration, Personal Growth, Physical Body, life hacks 

Curb Your Enthusiasm…NOT!

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[Authors’ Note. I wrote the first draft of this article almost 1-year ago. But while the event that triggered this article might be old-news, the lesson is timeless. Enjoy!]

One of my daughter’s, favorite activities recently is the wild and exuberant release of a sound that is a cross between a Tarzan yodel and a Native American war whoop. She starts out softly and increases the volume as she pats her hand on and off her mouth. It’s an expression of pure enthusiasm and joy for life.

There is no pattern that I can discern, no rhyme or reason to her whooping. It happens spontaneously and rises up from the depth of her being at unexpected and completely random moments. It’s as if the beauty, excitement and joy of this life become too much for her to hold inside any longer and she lets them out!

When we’re at the park or on the beach it’s great. When we’re home it’s usually fine. When we’re in the car it’s all right, although it certainly does echo quite a bit in that small space.

But when we’re in the grocery store, or a restaurant, or the video store, I feel compelled to moderate the volume a bit.

And when we’re on a plane, or at a funeral well…

On our trip to my father-in-law’s funeral, I had the opportunity to experience both of those.

During the 5-hour flight to Nashville, there were numerous repetitions of:

“Stop kicking the seat, Ella.”
“Why?”
“The person in front of you doesn’t like it.”
“Why?”
“It’s uncomfortable.”
“Why.”

And then there were the multiple refrains of:

“No we can’t walk up and down the aisle again.”
“Why?”
“The fasten seat belt sign is on.”
“Why?”
“Because the captain thinks it could be bumpy?”
“Why?”

And then there were those moments when I heard her winding up into one of those whoops. And I knew that wasn’t going to go over very well on the plane! A couple of times I actually had to put my hand over her mouth to muffle her whoops. Which, of course, made her think it was a game and caused her to do it with even more intensity.

You get the general idea.

When we arrived in Nashville, and connected with Melissa, Ella was able to let out some big whoops. And I encouraged her to get as much of it out of her system as she could before we got to the family’s house.

And then came the funeral. It was hard enough keeping tabs on Ella while we all waited to go into the sanctuary. (Thank goodness the funeral home had a kid’s room with books and puzzles and games!)

Finally the staff came and let us know it was time. They ushered us into the sanctuary and wheeled “Pop-pop” in. And the moment the preacher stepped up to the podium, Ella suddenly had the inspiration to start singing. And so she did!

Now, personally, I can’t think of anything more appropriate for a funeral than singing! Especially when it’s coming from the cutest three-year-old girl ever!

But apparently not everyone shared my opinion, and Ella’s. So we went outside where Ella could sing and dance and whoop it up as much as she wanted.

The whole experience, from plane flight to funeral, made me painfully aware of how often I was asking Ella to curb her enthusiasm. I became acutely aware of how enthusiasm un-friendly our culture really is. I mean how many places are there where a kid, or an adult for that matter, can really let loose and whoop it up?

How often do our children hear “shh,” or “stop that,” or “use your inside voice,” or “calm down or you’ll get a time-out?”

How often did you hear those things when you were a child?

Is it any wonder that the vast majority of us mature grown-up types have a hard time connecting with our passion and enthusiasm? Most of us had our passion “shushed” out of us by the time we were three!

Now I know I can’t always give Ella free-reign to let loose with her whoops, but helping her to grow up with her enthusiasm intact is more important to me than being socially acceptable. I want her to grow up with that zest for life still bubbling up from within her. So I occasionally find myself walking the fine line between what is culturally acceptable and what feels best for Ella.

Fortunately, we have found pre-schools that encourage that enthusiasm rather than attempting to stifle it, and Ella has wonderful “friends” (babysitters) that encourage and even join in her passionate expressions of joy.

And even I’ve gotten into the habit of joining her whenever possible, showing her that, yes, there’s even hope for the old-fogeys in her life!

If you haven’t tried it lately, I assure you, there is something truly thrilling and awakening in the pure uninhibited expression of joy and enthusiasm.

What about you? Where does your pure, uninhibited enthusiasm for life come out? Anywhere?

Well, if not, where do you begin to touch the edge of your enthusiasm? Where do you feel your excitement beginning to bubble up to the surface?

Sill not happening?

Well then, where do you begin to feel the ice of inhibition and constriction breaking? What activities, places, people, begin to awaken your joie de vivre, that innate joy for life that you carry deep inside you?

As you discover these activities, people and places, start making space for them. Allow your enthusiasm to awaken. And when you hear that voice in your head saying, “shh,” or “calm down,” or “Use your inside voice,” I encourage you to stick your tongue out in its general direction and get even louder!

And here’s a tip: There’s nothing like a good Tarzan yodel to break the inhibition and awaken that passion that’s waiting to come out. Come on; give it a try right now.

I double dare you!

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Emotions, Energy, Inspiration 

How Do You Want To Die? Not A Rhetorical Question

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Earlier today I was driving my daughter to her play-date. Today was not my scheduled day to pick her up from pre-school but my wife has not felt good for the past two days and I’ve had to pick up a few extra Ella “shifts.” This, on top of an already overly full schedule had put me into a bit of a fluster.

I was driving a bit fast given the conditions. It was raining quite hard and there was a lot of standing water on the road.

As we drove, the thought flashed into my head, “What if one of the oncoming cars skids and slams into us?” Admittedly, not a great thought, but it was a powerful motivator to turn inward for some self-exploration.

What if I died right then? What would my last thought have been? Something along the lines of, “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got way too much to do. Why couldn’t Melissa just get out and drive Ella like she was supposed to?”

Not the most positive thoughts in the world.

And what about feelings? What was I feeling in that moment? And if I had died, what would my last feeling have been?

Overwhelm, frustration, judgment. These are not feelings way up high on the emotional scale.

When examined in the light of the question,” How do I want to die?” it was crystal clear that I did not want to die with those final thoughts and feelings. I did not want to carry those thoughts and feelings back with me into Source. For I believe that is what we do when we die. We carry the thoughts and feelings that we are having at the instant of our death back into Source.

And with this clear awareness, it was quite easy to shift into better thoughts and feelings. What do I want to carry with me back to Source? Gratitude, love, peace, joy, contentment. These are the thoughts and feelings I want to contribute to Source when I return.

So this question, “How do I want to die?” can provide an extremely powerful inspiration on a daily basis. By holding that question in your awareness, it reminds you to monitor your thoughts and feelings and continuously reach for better ones.

How do you want to die? What thoughts and feelings do you want to contribute when you return to your Source?

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Emotions, Feelings, Personal Growth 

We Are All One - The Taste of Connection

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My friend, Duane, has a license plate that says “WRALL1.” It’s one of my favorite plates. Whenever I see it, it reminds me of what I know to be true, but sometimes forget.

I’m sure you’ve heard stories of people who have experienced this connection when a loved one has died. Even if they were disconnected by a great distance, they “knew” that someone close to them had died.

I’ve heard many such stories, but have never personally experienced it, until last month when my uncle passed away.

It was the Saturday of Labor Day weekend. Since it was the first Saturday of the month I hosted the monthly drop in Law of Attraction group. I was showing the movie, The Secret, and had a surprisingly large turnout (25-people) considering it was the holiday weekend.

The morning was great. The discussion after the movie was deep and intimate and incredibly uplifting. I was vibrating at a wonderfully high frequency after the meeting.

I didn’t have to rush home for family time, so after cleaning up my office, my friend Mike and I went out to brunch. Coincidentally, or not, Melissa and Ella were in North Carolina visiting with Melissa’s dad who was losing his battle with cancer.

Mike and I had a great debriefing session about the morning. And then, as I was taking the last few bites of my pancake, I began feeling extremely lethargic. It was quite a noticeable shift from the powerful, high-energy state I had been experiencing moments earlier: Too big a shift to ignore.

I didn’t ignore it, exactly, but I did attempt to minimize it by saying to Mike, “I must have eaten too much of that pancake, because I just had a major crash. I think I’m going to go home and take a nap.”

I had planned to go home and pack for an overnight trip to a rustic retreat center with some friends. But instead of packing, I really did need to lie down. I told myself I would just rest for a “few minutes.” That few minutes turned into about two hours. I couldn’t get myself out of bed. I kept waking up and trying to force myself up, but I literally felt like my body was filled with lead. I kept dropping back into a deep trance or sleep.

Finally, I really did force myself up. Still feeling heavy and tired, I accepted that, for whatever reason, I was not supposed to go on this overnight. Something was up. I didn’t know what but with a feeling this strong I wasn’t going to push it. Maybe there was going to be an earthquake and I’d be safer staying home. Whatever the reason, I was clearly being given the message not to go.

What I needed, I decided, was some fresh air to help me get clear. So I went to a beautiful loop trail a few minutes from our house and started walking.

The heaviness would not go away. Even in the magical redwood grove where I always feel light and clear, my feet were dragging. As I approached the bench at the midway point of the loop I thought, “I think I’ll run. That will shake off this heaviness.” Wrong! I could barely make it up that last quarter mile. I pushed myself, but whatever I was doing certainly could not be called running!

It was not until I got home that I discovered what was happening. My mother had left several messages, none of which I had checked. My uncle had passed away earlier in the day, just at the time that I was taking the last few bites of my pancake.

If I had gone to the retreat center without checking those messages, I would not have been back until Monday evening. The funeral was on Sunday. I would have missed it and missed the opportunity to be back east with my family.

Remember the scene in the original Star Wars movie when Obi Wan Kenobi stumbles and has to sit down after feeling the disruption in the Force when the Death Star destroys a planet?

We are all one. Some of us are more sensitive to that connection than others. And the vast majority of us are more sensitive to that connection with certain people than others. We’ll feel that connection with our parents, children, and siblings far more powerfully than with strangers or even friends (unless they are very close friends).

But when you feel that connection, it is real and it is powerful. There is no denying it: Even if you want to write it off to eating to much of your pancake! No, once you have felt that connection, there is no going back. It’s like taking the blue pill. Or was it the red pill?

Until the majority of us acknowledge our interconnectedness, our oneness, we will continue to create conflict and violence.

And, when enough of us do get it, get that we really are all one, get it on a deep, visceral, level, then we will be ready to create a world where everyone and everything is respected and peace is our normal experience.

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying 

How Will You Spend Your Dash?

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Well Steve Johnson, at the Fast Lane, has again turned me on to a great link. It’s a quick little movie that is well worth the three minutes it takes to watch. Go check out The Dash.

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Joy, Physical Body 

No Time To Grieve

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Yesterday morning, as I was getting Ella ready for pre-school, my wife came downstairs and, after our good morning hugs, began telling me about some stuff that had come up around her father’s recent passing. She had just realized that the next meeting of her women’s group would be on November 1st, the Day of the Dead.

There was obviously some intense emotional content present, and yet, my first thoughts were along the lines of, “I don’t have time for this now. I’ve got to finish getting Ella ready so that we can get to pre-school and meet the physical therapist for her appointment.”

What was I thinking? Melissa lost her father less than 3-weeks ago, and there I was expecting her to be able to channel her grief into “appropriate” times. After a brief and not very positive interchange I went upstairs to get dressed, and quickly recognized my insensitivity.

I got dressed, went downstairs and sat with Melissa and Ella, giving her the time and space she needed to explore what was happening for her. If we were late for Ella’s PT session, it would not be the end of the world. It turns out that Melissa just needed a couple of minutes of connection. Nothing more.

With a bit of perspective, it becomes obvious how completely unreasonable is is to expect someone who has lost a loved one to experience their grief on a ‘regular” schedule. And yet, this seems to be a fairly common belief.

I have had several clients recently who have lost parents. Their struggle has been around giving themselves permission to fully experience the depth of their sorrow. They have internalize this cultural belief system that says you get a set amount of time to grieve and then you should be “over it.”

Sorry. Grief doesn’t work that way. Grief is a very unpredictable experience. Some people experience most their grief soon after the passing of a loved one. Others go into a period of numbness immediately following the death. This can help them get through the funeral and family stuff that surrounds a death. But as that numbness begins to thaw, the grief begins to come up in unexpected ways, places and times. It can take weeks, months even years to fully experience and express the sorrow present when a loved one passes.

But in our culture of go, go, go, do, do, do, there is very little space for that type of experience. We have truly created a culture in which there is no time for grief. What are we saying about grief when your work gives you 2-weeks off for bereavement (if you’re lucky)?

I find it interesting that the question I’ve been getting a lot lately is, “Are things back to normal yet?” Back to normal? What is normal? And how could things ever be back to normal? Certainly for Melissa, her life will never be “normal” again. This experience has completely transformed her life and will continue to transform it in ways that she is only vaguely aware of right now.

There can be no return to normal after a loved one dies. And yet that seems to be the expectation of our culture.

Don’t fall for it. Don’t get caught in the trap of seeking “normal.” And don’t fall into the trap of encouraging someone you know to return to “normal” after they lose a loved one.

There’s a lot more to come on this topic so keep your eyes peeled.

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Emotions, Relationships 

Light and Death

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With all this death swirling around lately – my uncle passed over the Labor Day weekend, and my father-in-law departed this past Thursday – I have been struggling with how to address the heaviness that surrounds death. I felt the heaviness when I returned from Boston after my uncle’s funeral and I feel it now as we prepare to leave Nashville where we’ve been saying our goodbyes to Melissa’s father.

And right in the middle of all this, Rob Brezny, the Free Will Astrology guy, came to the rescue with a bit of inspiration and assistance in my weekly horoscope. Here’s what he wrote a couple of weeks ago:

There was one main reason why America’s founding fathers gave Thomas Jefferson, not Benjamin Franklin, the job of composing the Declaration of Independence in 1776. They were afraid that Franklin, a compulsive teaser and trickster, would slip jokes into the document. In my opinion, we Americans would have been better served if Franklin had been chosen and allowed to mess around. After all, even the most profound commitments and weighty situations benefit from the leavening power of humor. Keep that in mind during the oh-so-serious games that are ahead for you, Virgo.

Hearing that gave me permission to lighten up a bit. Obviously, I’m not going to start cracking jokes when I hear of someone’s death or wear a clown costume to the next funeral I attend. But Brezny’s advice is sound, I believe, in that it reminds us of the importance of balance in all things, even death.

Is there really room for lightness and humor within the heaviness that surrounds death? I think so. Mark Twain, a master of bringing lightness to heavy subjects had this to say about age. “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” It’s not a great leap from age to death. Certainly, age and death go hand in hand. And what is true for one must be true for the other. Therefore, death also, is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind it doesn’t matter.

Thursday morning as I was preparing to fly down here to Nashville for the funeral, I spoke with my friend Duane Vos of Creative Window Fashions. He reminded me to have fun. “Have fun?” Are you crazy? “Remember, it’s all about fun,” he teased.

Thanks for the reminder Duane. It truly is all about fun. We’re here for joy, to enjoy this journey, all of it! Even, and maybe especially, our transition back to our Source.

 

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Joy 

A Missed Opportunity

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This morning, after Ella and I woke up, I went into the kitchen to get her cereal ready. I noticed that she was taking a long time to catch up. Usually, she’s right behind, hungry and ready to dig into her first breakfast after a long night of sleep. I poked my head out of the kitchen door to see where she was and saw her standing by the TV holding something in her hand. I couldn’t quite make out what it was: a stray piece of clothing perhaps, or one of her toys that had a string attached to the end.

“What do you have, Ella?” I asked as I walked out towards her. She just stood there. And then the shape came into clarity and I saw what it was. “Put it down, Ella.” I said quite firmly, perhaps too firmly, as I realized she was holding a big dead rat!

When we lived out in the country our cats would bring us “gifts” on a fairly regular basis: gophers, mice, moles, birds, all kinds of treasures from the wild world. So much so, in fact, that we had to watch where we walked at night, having stepped on more than one of their “gifts.” But since we’ve moved into town, they’ve become a bit lazy, and there are fewer opportunities to catch little critters. So we’ve gotten used to a house that is free of dead rodents.

So seeing Ella holding a dead rat took me a bit by surprise. After Ella dropped it, I told her that we needed to take it back outside and then wash our hands. And so we did.

End of story? Unfortunately, yes. After I dropped Ella off at pre-school it dawned on me that the Universe had just provided me with a perfect opportunity to speak to Ella about death. If you read my post from last night about The Weight of Death you might remember that one of the questions I’m asking right now is how to find the words to speak with her about the impending death of her grandfather. And this morning I was truly given a gift, a “teaching moment” as they say in the education world. And I totally missed it.

I was so caught up in the busyness of the morning, that, instead of seeing this unusual occurrence as an opportunity, I perceived it as an unexpected, and unwanted additional “task.”

I wonder how often these unexpected “tasks” that upset our normal routine are truly gifts from the Universe, opportunities to learn and grow. More often than not, would be my guess. But we are so focused on maintaining our normal life that we miss these opportunities. We are so focused on completing the tasks on our to-do list that, when a monkey wrench gets thrown in to our lives, we immediately look for a way to dispose of it, not realizing that it’s exactly the tool we needed to finish one of our other tasks!

So all I have to say about this morning’s rat is, “Thank you Universe for sending me such a perfect gift. I’m sorry I was not awake enough to take advantage of it. Next time, I intend to see the gift for what it is.”

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Inner Guidance, Parenting, Personal Growth 

Life on Hold: The Weight of Death

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For the past few days I’ve been walking around feeling like there’s a big weight hanging over me ready to fall at any moment. Getting things done has been a chore. Making plans beyond the next day has taken all of my willpower. It feels as though my life is on hold and that I’m just waiting.

The waiting part is true and there’s not much I can do about that. But the life on hold part is all my doing and there is much I can do about that.

You see, my wife is down in Nashville with her father who is dying. He was released from the hospital on Friday and is now on home hospice care. (http://www.hospicenet.org/html/faq.html This is a wonderful site full of excellent information about end-of-life care) Melissa is there with her sister, stepmother, and others to provide comfort and be there to help him through this transition to the next world.

Melissa was down there for a week, returned last Tuesday, and then on Thursday, she received word that her father had taken a turn for the worse. She dropped everything, turned around and flew right back down there.

It’s amazing how the two tiny words, “any day,” spoken by a doctor can create a sense of urgency in those close to the one about whom those words are spoken. In a very powerful way, also, those words bring a certain freedom, they provide permission to step away from the responsibilities of daily life and attend to the profound and transformative issues that arise around the ending of a life.

I can sense the relief in my wife when we speak. There is lightness in her voice, a clarity that seems to have come from this letting go. Her willingness to let go of the responsibilities she has up here so that she can be there with her father and family has clearly been good for her. The opportunities she has had to connect with her father during this powerful time of transition has brought them closer than they have ever been. And her ability to acknowledge and share her grief and sadness within the supportive environment of her family has had a cleansing effect on her.

As she goes through this powerful process down there, I am here, with Ella, feeling disconnected, unclear about my role, and more than a bit helpless. How can I support Melissa while she is Nashville?

I understand that, from a practical standpoint, my staying here and taking care of Ella is the best support I can provide. It gives Melissa the chance to be there with her family. But that has not made it any easier to be so far away.

This disconnection and helplessness is infusing the rest of my life as well. How do I plan beyond today? Should I arrange for childcare for the evenings that I teach? How about the Saturday Law of Attraction group? Should I get coverage for that? What about my early morning meetings on Fridays?

Ella and I will fly to Nashville for the funeral. But when will that be? Today? Tomorrow? In three weeks? Every time Melissa calls, I think, “This is it.” And every time I call her and she doesn’t answer, that same thought passes through my head. I can assure you this type of thinking is not conducive to a focused, productive work life!

In moments of clarity, I recognize this time as a powerful challenge and an opportunity to become more fully present in my life. And with clarity come questions. Good questions that can lead me into fuller presence. Here are just a few of the questions that are arising.

Can I move forward with my life knowing that, at any moment, I will be called away?

Can I let go of the picture I have of “support” and trust that my ability to be here with Ella is the most powerful support I can offer?

Can I acknowledge and take care of my own needs during this time?

Can I find the words to speak clearly with Ella about what is happening?

When I step back from all that is happening and get a bit of perspective, I really do see the blessing of this time. It is so easy to place life on hold, to wait for some momentous – or not so momentous – event in order to move on. I have seen it in myself and in my clients: We wait to hear about a job we’ve applied for. We wait to hear if an article has been accepted. We wait to hear if someone we like wants to go on a date with us. We wait for a check in the mail. We wait for a phone call. We wait…

How often do we put our life on hold waiting for some external circumstance to resolve itself?

Most of the time this waiting, this holding, is so subtle that we don’t even notice it. In this case it has been anything but subtle. This well-defined sense of paralysis has given me the opportunity to explore that place of holding. Now I am aware of it, conscious, and so I get to choose how to proceed. I get to claim full responsibility for my actions, or lack of actions.

That is both the beauty and the curse of self-awareness: As your awareness expands so too does the level of responsibility you must take for your life. I choose to take full responsibility for this moment in my life. Will I step forward, as Thoreau says, confidently in the direction of my dreams, knowing that my forward progress may be interrupted at any moment? Or will I continue to twiddle my thumbs, waiting for all the lights on the road ahead of me to turn green.

The choice is mine. And in each moment I will continue to make the best choice I possibly can. For that is all I can do.

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Personal Growth 

A Good Day To Die

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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!

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Art of Allowing, Death & Dying, Healing, Joy, Personal Growth, Well-Being