The Good Death

“..You are either planting the seed or watering it..”

J. laughs, as I tell her my spiritual snafu at the vet’s office. Am I as annoying as the religious folk, I wonder. I try not to be. I try to only divulge the information that is benign enough and can be applied to both religious and spiritual people, akin to:

“The soul is beautiful and eternal”, “we need to do good by nature and animals” “ You need to find and follow your soul’s purpose” these are the truths I preach. Lately I have been reminding myself of that ceaseless, highly-religious person, (we all know the one) weaving the "talk of Jesus" into every conversation.

T. is talking about her mom, I manage to turn in something about our karmic pathways an that she needs to learn a lesson from her relationship. I can’t help it. It is so obvious to me.

When the higher forces allow me to see the spiritual side of people and events it looks something like this: A clear film with its own, separate events is being applied to the view of reality. As if I’m wearing the virtual reality glasses- I still see the “reality” but the glasses add to it.

J.’s hands float over Lisa’s body, slowing down above the “hotspots”.

“She is real” I think to myself, even though I know that “she IS real” and I chastise myself for even thinking that. I haven’t told J. that Lisa was feeling nauseous this morning, but J. already knows. Her hands hover above Lisa’s belly, picking up and throwing away the invisible, yet very palpable pain. It’s fascinating to watch her bringing Lisa peace.

Lisa lies on her little floor mat, so defenseless, so trusting. My little girl, what more can I do for you. Reiki is my last hope to alleviate the pain in her body. She has stayed so strong for me. Somewhere in the pit of my mind a scalding-hot thought begins brewing. It will erupt like hot magma when the time comes, but right now I manage to suppress it - We still have time.

“.She looked at me like I was crazy, J.! And you know me, J., I tried to look adequate, and talk normal.. man that was rough. THANK GOODNESS the vet tech came out with the pills, so I didn’t have to finish that conversation. I just grabbed the pills and ran away..”

J. lowers her head in a chuckle. “You are either planting a seed, or watering it”

What a precious nugget of wisdom! I took it and ran with it. Within the week I managed to coin it in the conversation with my very rational phycologist friend.

"..You are either planting a seed or are watering it, R...” I instructed my anxious friend.

I can’ help it- if the knowledge is good, benign enough and can be applied both to the rational and the irrational world - it has to be shared. It seemed to have helped R. at the moment, and she said she will use it in the future.

And with that I watch with my magical glasses on, how the spiritual world develops, and how the little nugget of well-worded truth rolls on to make the world a better place.

That’s the difference between spirituality and religion - spirituality is not singular. I thought about religion a lot. Ever since I was nine years of age.

I remember the day I told my friend: “I don’t believe that God is an old, bearded man on the cloud” back then I didn’t realize just HOW right I was. Over the years of my life that truth evolved, gaining and shedding parts of it:

“I don’t believe that God is a man..” or “ I don’t believe in God”. However that last disbelieving period was rather brief. Something has led me, my entire life, added to my existence, showed me the miracles and visions.

My husband gets the most of ‘it” now, poor thing. The man is so calm, rational. Entirely unburdened by imagination. At first it was difficult to talk to him about what I was going through.

The “initiation” was very rough, and though we haven’t spoken about that time of my life, he had witnessed it and I can only imagine how worried he was.

From what I hear the “initiation” is never easy on anyone. The “initiation” is a very sudden and intense “download” of data. The universe kinda-sorta warms you up to the event, you begin receiving little bits of random knowledge here and there, see the snippets of future, and then BAM!! You suddenly know so much that your mind becomes numb. I felt sick. I was terrified. I knew things that will happen in the future, I was afraid that the “shadow men” will show up at my doorstep at any moment to take me away.

Now, through all this experience, some would call it a “psychotic break, (and wouldn’t be wrong the psyche does break in a manner) I am still remaining me. That was the scariest part. Trying to prove to myself that I am still me, a rational and adequate individual, without any hereditary schizophrenia tendencies. Then why do I expect some “shadow men” to turn up at my door?

Because all of it is real and unreal at the same time. The more open you are to it, the more welcoming of knowledge - the more you will receive. Seeing - is believing and vice versa.

I break from writing to give Lisa many kisses on her noggin. It is 9:30 Am, we are still in bed, and she is deep asleep after a long restless night. Her thigh ached and she woke up, asking me to massage it. Today is her last day on this plane. She knows it, I think. I talked to her and asked her to let me know that she is ready. I think she did.

..I googled the etymology of euthanasia; as if understanding the origin of the word would help me understand what lies beyond..

Good death. it means good death. In the last week she has cried and whined so much, in pain, despite 3 different meds. I called the travelling vet. The keeper of the “golden shot”. Doctor Good Death.

These kisses on the noggin, is how we used to wake each other up. Whoever wakes up first kisses the other. She would crawl up to me, make a little “ook” sound and rub her forehead on my lips, as if taking the kisses. Right now she is deep asleep. The drugs have finally kicked in and no matter how many times I rub my lips against her furry forehead, her eyes remain shut.

All this enlightenment, all this ethereal knowledge of the afterlife, I have it, I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it, I know it. But it isn’t making me feel any better at the moment. I cried so hard I summoned a migraine yesterday, while feeding Lisa chunks of grilled chicken- her final feast before departure, her last hoorah.

Then, after my husband brought sleepy Lisa to bed and we were brushing our teeth, I suddenly broke down in a wail. He ran to the bedroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, to see an ugly mess of dripping toothpaste foam and tears all over my clothes.