A Small Bit of Death

A small bird flew into the window of our sunroom yesterday afternoon. I went outside to take a look, but it was dead by the time I got there. It was very warm and felt alive. It was almost hot. Most of us have never picked up a bird before, and are not familiar with the sensation. I have picked up pigeons and sparrows, mostly. They are so soft and warm, almost to the point of not being real. I had a little funeral and buried it next to the house.

Death is a fact that cannot be disputed. This physical form comes to an end at some point. It is a part of life, as an end to that particular movement. I have no particular thoughts about death; nothing that makes me nervous, upset, mad, scared, or anything else like that. And it is not as if I have "accepted" death, whatever that means. It is just a fact. I can accept or deny the rising sun, but it doesn't change the fact, does it?

I am full of joy because I am not able to accept any outside source that tells me what happens after death. I am not under the sway of any religious, political, or spiritual system. They have all been rejected. Not a forceful rejection where there is some activity of suppression. Not a rejection where one drops one idea for another. (Besides, if you drop one idea for another, what have you rejected? Nothing.) It is not the idea that you have to act to drop something. When you see the truth of it, it drops away and you become incredibly still. Within that stillness is incredible energy, because you are no longer wasting it. When you are still, it can feel overwhelming, but from that place you can begin to take real actions, free of fear and influence.

There is so much power here, and I am not able to explain it at all. Not yet.