The Gift of “Losing” a Loved One. . .(a long + worthwhile read)

I get it. At first glance, the title of this blog may be confusing and even upsetting. I mean, how can someone’s death be, in any way, shape, or form, a gift to us? What the heck can this possibly mean? How dare I even string the words “gift” and “losing” in the same sentence!!

Well, to provide insight into my bold point of view, I’m going to share a story with you about a cat I called Ivory. I moved into my current home on the Big Island 6.5 years ago, and on the very first night in my new abode, a sleek, light-colored ginger cat showed up on property. He kept his distance from me, but he didn’t mind coming a little closer when I started putting food down for him. Each morning and night I would set out a bowl of decadence for him, and he would eat it up voraciously—and only after I closed the sliding glass door. :-)

Ivory had a clipped ear tip. On island, if you see a cat with a clipped tip, that means the cat is feral and was captured by an awesome, organized group of women who take feral cats to a veterinarian to be microchipped and fixed so that the extensive island cat population can be managed. Ivory had a complete distrust of humans, and was perfectly content roaming solo all day along the slopes of Kohala Mountain. Yet nearly every morning and night, he would come to see me. He’d partake of my offering of food and company, and then off he’d go. Sometimes I’d find him chilling at the base of my favorite tree before he’d disappear through the tall grasses behind my home.

Over the course of those 6.5 years, Ivory and I became well acquainted. I’d sit with him and talk to him until he finally started trusting me enough to lie down with only a foot or so between us. At night, he started sleeping in a big, cozy chair on my lanai (porch) close to the sliding glass door. I made it incredibly difficult for him to resist that chair since I had layered it with pillows and a lamb’s wool throw. I just loved watching a tough, tomboy cat who didn’t mind lying on lava rock now finding respite in the luxuries I provided exclusively for him.

Recently, Ivory became very sick. In a matter of three days, he stopped eating entirely, was coughing up blood, and his nose appeared to literally be melting right off of his face. I was told that he may have been poisoned—purposefully or unintentionally. I sat with him one day while his face was covered in blood. He was listless and defeated. My heart broke into 1,000 pieces, and although I tried to trap him in order to take him to the vet myself, my efforts were in vain.

I found myself crying profusely, and I would lose my breath from panic. How could this be happening? I spent years trying to gain this guy’s trust and give him the best of the best, and within three days, he was dying a horrible, painful death?

And then I thought occurred to me: What would God do in this situation? And then everything. . .got. . .quiet.

I know God—or our inner Christ Consciousness—would look at Ivory with neutral eyes, recognizing this as something that’s simply occurring on the screen of consciousness. Everything—and I mean everything—is inherently neutral. Only we humans assign meaning to whatever is taking place, which, interestingly enough, often makes things complicated and challenging for us. And as such, my human nature didn’t want this to be happening to Ivory. I was resisting the experience, I was efforting to fix it, and I was generating so much pain for myself through my thoughts that this shouldn’t be happening. I knew Ivory was going to pass through the veil soon, and so I switched to a state of complete surrender, and just being a space of love for him. And then—he gently passed through the veil.

As it happens, upon the passing of a loved one, we often initially go into denial and shock, accompanied by intense pain and rivers of tears. “It shouldn’t be this way!” Then we often experience the void of their physical presence, and grief overwhelms us. This is our human default. Perhaps another way to look at it is that we’ve been indoctrinated to relate to death as loss, and that the degree of our pain is commensurate with the degree to which we loved someone.

Going back to Ivory for a moment, I recognize the power of his presence. Not only because of the years spent connecting with him and witnessing his elevated trust revealing itself through his actions, but mostly because of the final moments of his life. I was able to “use” the moments where I sat with him in his ebbing state as a means to heal my turbulent mind. I was able to return to Love and Peace just by virtue of fully being with him “as is” in the present moment; surrendering to the divine perfection of all things unfolding. And because I now have his chair with some of his ginger fur on it, I get to sit there, feeling his presence and steeping in gratitude for our relationship.

This is the gift that our loved ones provide when their body dies.

Everything, everything, everything is an opportunity for healing the mind. For coming back to the Truth contained in the present moment. For giving up what we think things ought to look like. For releasing the suffering of perceived loss. For seeing through our projections and perceptions. For accepting what is occurring before our eyes, and to bless it up. Because this is the stuff of awakening to what’s real. These moments, even simple interactions with a feline, are the reasons why we’re here. To learn. To grow. To let go. To return to Love.

If we’re busy fighting with what is because we’re attached to an outcome, situation, person, or thing, or if our expectations weren’t met, or if we’re lost in overwhelming, uncomfortable emotions and resisting their presence, we miss the opportunity to learn, to grow, to let go, and to return to Love. Ultimately, this is our purpose for being here. Life is here to make us conscious, and it does that by challenging us.

So if you find yourself missing someone who has departed this earthly plane, I encourage you to try out these three steps to dissolve resistance, to ease grief, and to discover the gift:

1. Breathe deeply through your nose and into your diaphragm. Be with ALL of the sensations being felt in your body. Allow them to be there. Just go all in with whatever is arising within you. Welcome e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g you’re feeling. It might seem like you’re going to break in two, yet stay with it. Focus on your body’s sensations, and not the circulating thoughts. Breathe. Find the stillness in the center.

2. Recognize to your bones that the departure of your loved one—even the how and the when—was wrapped up in divine perfection. Because it was. It might not be fully evident to you at this point, yet there is an unseen bigger picture that unfolded exactly as needed

3. The feeling of missing someone—what if this is actually the moment when your loved one is trying to connect with you from the other side? Just because you can’t imagine this doesn’t mean this isn’t a true statement. So…what if? Consider relaxing into the feeling of the void of their physical presence, and reinterpret it as a connection. A communication. Breathe and feel them. Smile at what you shared in the 3D together, and what you continue to share now between two planes of existence. And perhaps offer them gratitude for the gift they gave you to heal the pain of your own resistance to “what’s so.” They brought you back to the present moment.

   “Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes.

   Because for those who love with heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation. “ - Rumi

Aum, aho, aloha, amen—

Gaile Lynn

“Transform Your Life Through the Truth About Death”

Maybe We All Could Use a Little Ego Death!

Let’s talk about the ego!

The ego’s compass is oriented to our survival and to predict things on our behalf, which is a necessary element of the human operating system. Once we put a hand on a hot stove, for example, we know not to pull that move again! However, the automatic impulse of the ego often leads us to misinterpret reality since the ego only references from the past, and then it extrapolates it into the future. This is one of the primary reasons why we share a universal fear around death. Because death is not only an unknown dimension to the ego and thus it has no reference point, the ego also inherently knows that when the body succumbs to death, it goes right along with it. Without our bodies, the ego ceases to exist. So the ego wants us to avoid death at all costs, which drives us to act in ways that are “safe” and familiar.

This is why I’m inviting you to consider a little ego death. While it’s true that we need the ego to exist, many of us have yet to tell the ego to take a back seat from time to time, and allow our conscious awareness to run the show instead of being on automatic pilot. This is the driving force behind my missive: “Transform Your Life Through the Truth About Death.” I wish for us all to develop proficiency—and eventually mastery—to be able to interpret people, situations, and circumstances in a more accurate context so the ego is not telling us what’s real, and thereby cutting off possibility at the knees.

The ego's reliance on past references and future predictions can create a sense of control and safety for us, yet it can also limit our ability to steep in the present moment AND to “be with” the unknown. It’s challenging for us humans to relinquish the need to control how life unfolds, and the need to want to know what lies around the bend. Death being the ultimate unknown—The Great Mystery—can trigger the ego's fear response, leading to anxious thoughts and resistance to the notion of death or anything that exists as an “unknowable. “

By recognizing the ego's role in creating fearful thoughts around death, we can begin to transform these fears by:

• Acknowledging the Ego's Limitations: Recognize that the ego's references to the past and predictions for the future are limited and do NOT reflect reality.

• Aligning with the Present Moment: Focus on the here and now, rather than getting caught up in fears about the future or regrets about the past.

• Exploring the Unknown: Approach death as a mystery to be explored, rather than a threat to be feared.

• Cultivating Acceptance: Practice accepting the impermanence of all things, and our attachment to how life “should” look.

Remember, the ego is a natural part of our psyche, but it doesn't have to dictate our relationship with anything—including death. By developing awareness and adopting more expansive perspectives, we can transform fear of any kind. The big fact of the matter is—focusing on the present moment is your ticket to Truth, which is actually where peace resides. The ego cannot interpret a thing when you’re fully attuned to life in the Now, and where there is nothing to fear.

So a little ego death will do us all some good. I’m in! How about you?

It’s a beautiful day to start identifying with your soul rather than your ego!

Aum, aho, aloha, amen—

Gaile Lynn

Transform Your Life Through the Truth About Death

What If We’re As “Dead” As We’re Ever Going to Be—Right Now?

In his book, “How to Have a Good Life After You’re Dead,” author, Mike Marable, confidently states: “We are as dead as we are ever going to be right now.” It took my brain a moment to comprehend this statement, yet my soul understood it in a nano second. To help your brain compute Mike’s message, I’m going to drop in a quote from the movie titled, “The Professor.” In it, Johnny Depp’s character tells a group of his students the following: '“Why the fuck do we sort of float through this weird thing called life without actually living? I mean REALLY live; not simply exist. That’s boring as fuck. Stir some shit up. Fuck some shit up. Fuck it right. I want to focus on enriching our lives, and try to extract some sort of wisdom that we can take with us. May we forever remember that in every moment we are composing the stories of our lives, so let’s aim to make it a meaningful read, or at least an interesting one.” (Side note: I REALLY dig expletives coming from Johnny!)

So that brings us back to Mike’s quote from from his illuminating tome. This esteemed author was indicating that life is a continuation, and that our consciousness is an energy that cannot cease to exist—it only changes state. He goes on to use a metaphor of how water can change its state from ice to steam. He asks us to think of ourselves as being like ice while in physical form, and steam when we “die.” We simply shift frequency—like changing from one station to another on the radio. The reality we go to when we take our last breath is already all around us. We are still in spirit form. We never left the spirit realm—we’re just in a different frequency—and we’re all dreaming our reality.

So that begs the question: If we consider that we’re really as dead as we’re ever going to be, then how might that positively effect how we live our lives? I mean REALLY live; not simply exist. If we have any fear of death, then you can bet that we’re compromising our ability to stir shit up. I’m not suggesting you go jump off a cliff to test drive Mike’s theory. What I AM suggesting is that you consider for a moment that the conscious or subconscious fear of death—of our own or another’s—is in ways small and large keeping us from authentically living and being fully immersed in the game of life. And let it be known that the number one regret coming from someone lying on their proverbial deathbed is, drum roll, please, the regret of not fully living an authentic life!

So—-are you ready to fuck some shit up, and fuck it right? Because you are made of divine stuff, and you cannot die. You never cease to be in spirit form. Like a flowing river, you effortlessly shift from one plane or form to another. So don’t worry thinking that it’s going to be lights out when you take your last breath. Give up the notion that you’ll obliterate into a dark void, or that a wrathful God is coming to critique the thoughts, words, and deeds you executed over your lifetime. You ARE life, and you carry on, even after your (body’s) death.

As you begin to awaken from the dream and remember who you are, you start kicking fear to the curb. Bear in mind that baby steps and micro-shifts add up over time—and add up big time!

When the Ego weeps for what it has lost. The Spirit rejoices for what it has found. - Ekhart Tolle

Aum, aho, aloha, amen—

Gaile Lynn

Transform Your Life Through the Truth About Death

A Mystic Poet’s View of Death: What Is Rumi Trying to Tell Us?

“The soul that is attached to the material world will always be in fear of death.

But the soul that is attached to the divine will always be in love with death.” - Rumi

Ahhhh, Rumi. He’s so near and dear to my heart. How could he not be? Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī was a 13th-century poet, Hanafi faqih, Islamic scholar, Maturidi theologian, and Sufi mystic originally from Greater Khorasan in Greater Iran. Rumi's works were written mostly in Persian, but occasionally he used Turkish, Arabic, and Greek in his verse. In other words, he was a yummy dude! He heavily influenced mystical thought and literature throughout the world. Bless his soul for all the wisdom he brought forth through the ages.

The quote from above is so substantial and meaningful to me, and here’s why:

Rumi speaks of attachment to the material world, he’s referring to the fact that we humans tend to be deeply invested in earthly possessions, relationships, and ego-driven desires, and as with anything to which we have a strong attachment, we fear losing them. This attachment creates anxiety about death as well, as we tend to worry about separation from what we hold dear.

However, when he speaks about attachment to the divine, this means that when we focus on spiritual growth and on our connection with the universe and a higher power, (whatever that means to you), and we shift our perspectives from what we’re convinced is our fixed reality to considering what else is possible and more aligned with Truth. As it relates to death, we begin to see it as being more of a transition to something greater, a reunion with the divine, or a return to our true essence. Rumi's poetry and teachings often emphasized the idea that death is an illusion, and that the soul is eternal and immortal.

Rumi suggests that the soul attached to the divine. . .

· Sees death as a liberation from the constraints of the material world.

· Embraces death as a transformation, rather than an end.

· Experiences love and acceptance rather than fear in the face of “death.”

In essence, Rumi's quote above encourages us to reframe our relationship with death by cultivating a deeper connection with the divine, and letting go of material attachments. This shift in perspective can lead to a more peaceful and loving perception of life's mysteries—including death, the greatest of them all.

Rumi is also quoted as saying something that also really hit home for me as it relates to death, which is: "Die before you die". This is often interpreted as a spiritual invitation to let go of the ego, attachments, and illusions, and to awaken to the true nature of our existence, which is beyond birth and death. He saw death as a metaphor for spiritual transformation rather than a literal end.

Here's one more quote from Rumi that resonates with this perspective: "Life and death are one, like the river and the sea. There is no separation, only a flowing from one to the other.” His sentiments beautifully capture the idea that life and death are interconnected, and that death is not a separate or opposing force, but rather a natural part of the continuum of existence.

In essence, Rumi's quotes encourage us to reframe our relationship with death as a doorway to the divine. I find this to be incredibly liberating. Life is not about what we obtain, but rather about recognizing that in detaching from what is occurring in this 3D realm as having any real significance at all, we actually discover what Rumi was saying all along—-”What you seek is seeking you.” That peace? That joy? That sense of relaxation and fulfillment you desire? It’s all contained in our connection to the divine, if we allow it to be so.

“Our death is our wedding with eternity” - Rumi

Aum, aho, aloha, amen—

Gaile Lynn