Freedom Never Dies

            It's over.  My boy cat has died and the relief he is out of pain is greater with each passing day.  He died a few days ago, Wednesday 11/22/11 at 1:25pm MST to be exact.  I had picked him up and put him on my bed to clean out his when he began that final phase - gasping and then his spirit vacating his body.  This time I didn't beg him not to go, I just loved him as much as I could as he went.  It's over.

            I am not sure how I feel about this pattern of transitioning the living to the other side.  It seems without an intention to do so, my life has been this facilitation both personally and professionally.  Though, it's much easier when it's not personal.

            I will say that I've known no greater honor.  I've lost count of how many I've held in my arms as they died - and I've never even been to a war zone.  What does that say about this world we live in?

            The last two that were not my own family or friend that stand out the most was an old man of 95.  He had always been so independent and productive.  He rode his motorcycle until he was 85 and worked in his garage shop until he could no longer stand on his own.  I met him in a nursing home, bed bound and lying helpless as he called in frustration to anyone who would listen to help him with each movement he needed to make. 

            It is hard when you have been in full control of your life to no longer have any.  He kept asking me why they wouldn't let him die now, what did he have to keep waiting for?  He was not going to get better and this experience was humiliating and horrifying for this proud man.  He was grateful that I would say the words out loud that yes, he would die soon.  With the sick and elderly this is often what they need most - someone to say out loud what is happening and not use code words or change the subject because of the person's own discomfort.

            He did die within the month that I had met him.  But he died not with grace or someone sitting with him, but rather just in a moment like any other in that time he spent in the nursing home.  No one was there to hold his hand, to say good bye, or to tell him he was loved.

            The other was a premature child born to a mother at 24 weeks - barely viable at that age and her brain damage and body were to weak and fragile to sustain her life.  It was a baby born too soon most likely because the methamphetamine her mother was using brought about labor.  Her mother was too afraid to make the decision to take her off life support and even more afraid to be with her in the end moments.

            I did it for her.  Not make the decision, but sit with this child and hold her as she left her body here taking her spirit beyond this plane of existence.  I'd like to say it was graceful and dignified, but it was in the middle of a busy neonatal care unit and all I could give her were my arms and a rocking chair as I whispered to her it was okay to leave, she was loved and her mother and father were doing the best they could by letting her go.

            I won't share my personal losses.  They are still painful and have my own set of guilty feelings attached to them.  But most included me holding them as their spirits left this world for the one beyond.  It was always the least I could do.

            Maybe these experiences are meant for more than transitioning one life at a time.  Maybe they are also about facilitating the transition of this world.  I believe that is why I am here, though I don't know what to do - as with a body it is hard for most to say the words out loud or have the courage to say it's time to let go.

            But I do know I am not afraid of death - because there really isn't any.  Death is nothing more than moving on from one form to another, or rather to that which is formless.  Death in its truest sense does not exist.  Nothing dies, it just changes.  Maybe not in the way we want, but it is always something we can live with because we are life itself. 

            This version of this earth is dying, but not to its final end, but rather unto what is next.  I don't want to be this version of me forever, so why would the earth?  My cat lived a very boring life - why wouldn't he want to trade it in and up for something to inspire him and challenge him more?

            I have been graced with enough connection to the non-physical that I can feel and hear beyond the body and the little self, so death doesn't scare me or create the same level of loss and loneliness that so many feel.  That is also why I am not afraid of this earth's transition - because I can feel so much more on the other side and in the other version - it is beyond description because it is going to be so wonderful for those who are willing to participate in her creation.

            Those who fear death also fear their freedom.  The old man wanted freedom from his cumbersome body.  The baby wanted freedom from her too early arrival so she could begin again.  My cat let me know the minute his spirit lifted up and out of his body that he felt free - "I AM FREE" were his exact words to me.

            The earth wants her freedom, I want mine, and I hope you want yours too.  Freedom from pain.  Freedom from systems that don't work.  Freedom from control by forces outside our self.  Freedom from limits and losses and lies.  There is no death, only the decision of what you want - your fear or your freedom.  My cat chose his, I have chosen mine, the earth is choosing hers - what will you choose?