The Art of Dying

A long time ago I heard a saying that only those who are ready to die, are the ones who really get to live.
I didn’t believe them.
I knew I could live without needing to make peace with death.

Boy, I was wrong!

The truth is,
Death is not just about our body leaving earth.
We die thousands of times in one life.
We crumble, break and tear apart.
Our character and behaviors.
Our experiences and beliefs.

Most do this and resist the pain.
Resist the uncomfort.
But when we resist,
we suffer more
We become victims
We contract
We numb ourselves so it hurts less.

The pain remains in the body
And slowly slowly decays us
From inside.

But some
The lucky ones
Who discover sacred wisdoms of life
Learn that nothing can be born if the old hasn’t died

I allow myself to feel raw pain without distracting myself,
even of background music.
I see my fears and walk directly to them.
I meet those dark places inside of me.
The shadows sides I hide from the world.
Sometimes even from myself.
I move towards them bravely.
In terror and courage.
In self devotion.
Until my identity is cracked.
Until the layers of illusion are burned.
Until all that is left
Is the truth
Of who I really am.
And even that
I know
Is temporary
As I am keep on changing.

So I keep on dying
Unattached to who I am
Or who I am becoming.

The truth is, a part of me dies almost every day.

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