Category Archives: Life Coaching

Precious Death


My name is Ahyoka. In Cherokee, that means “she brought happiness,” but I have known no happiness. We tried to accommodate, to live like the white man. We dressed in the clothes of the white man, learned his language. We built houses in villages with stores and shops; we tended farms and sold our crops in the market. We had art, music, and culture, religion, and language for centuries before the white man came. The white men called themselves “Christians.” We lived peacefully in what the white man calls “Georgia.”

Then they said an order came from Chief Andrew Jackson. Our homes, shops, and lands were stolen. My mother was one of the women raped. They stole all our belongings. We children hid in the woods, eating roots and berries until they found us. In rags we walked the trail of tears. Our grandparents died on the way. We were “given” land where crops would not grow, and left in squander to starve.

I love the Lord, because he has heard
    my voice and my supplications.
Because he inclined his ear to me,
    therefore I will call on him as long as I live.
The snares of death encompassed me;
    the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me;
    I suffered distress and anguish.
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
    “O Lord, I pray, save my life!”

15 Precious in the sight of the Lord
    is the death of his faithful ones.


In my native Ghana, my name, Nyamékyε means “gift from God.” I was given that name because my mother was long childless. I was the answer to her prayers. I grew strong in our village. My father was a mighty hunter. I was given in marriage to a handsome man who was also a hunter. The entire tribe rejoiced when I gave birth to Quaashie. Quaashie means Sunday. We often name our children after the day of the week they were born. Quaashie was a strong, healthy boy. 

I was sitting on a log by the river outside our village nursing Quaashie one warm afternoon when they threw a net over us and we were trapped. They beat us and packed us into a large boat. We lay chained on shelves with others inches below and above us. From above, the excrement fell down on us. We were covered in dung and sweat. The white men took us out of chains every few days, brought us up on deck, dumped salty water over us, then raped us. My vagina bled and my belly hurt. We ate horrible tasting swill. When we finally reached shore, they stood me, holding Quaashie, naked on a block wearing chains. White men stuck their hands in my vagina and squeezed my breasts. They spoke strange languages.

I wailed when they ripped Quaashie from my arms. I never saw him again. I never saw my husband again. I never saw my mother, or father, or villagers again. Chained, I was thrown in a wagon and taken to what they called a “plantation” that was land stolen from native people like me. The white people are Christians, but not like what our preachers tell us. The one they call “master” rapes me every week. I have born three babies by him. They have all been sold away. And here I must pick cotton under the overseer’s whip until I die.

I love the Lord, because he has heard
    my voice and my supplications.
Because he inclined his ear to me,
    therefore I will call on him as long as I live.
The snares of death encompassed me;
    the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me;
    I suffered distress and anguish.
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
    “O Lord, I pray, save my life!”

15 Precious in the sight of the Lord
    is the death of his faithful ones.


I am Adinah, which means “gentle delicate one” in my native Poland. We are Jewish. My daddy was a professor of literature at the university. My mother was a concert violinist in the symphony. I had a little brother named Aleksander. Our home was filled with fine art, books, and music. Daddy’s library had tomes from floor to ceiling. His big mahogany desk always covered with papers. A large globe sat on a stand in the corner. A baby-grand Steinway sat in our drawing room. We all played it. My mother practiced her violin for hours every day. The sunlight streamed through curtains and danced off the crystal chandelier. 

There were screams in the streets the day the Nazis came and kicked open our door, seized each of us, then looted our house, stealing all of value. They threw us into trucks, then packed us like cattle onto trains. I never saw my mother, father, or little brother ever again.

The camp had barbed wire and men with guns who called us names and said we were not human. They were Christian and called us “Christ-killers.” They said we drank blood at our feasts. Women in tan uniforms yelled at us, beat us, kicked us. We were packed into drafty wooden buildings. We slept on shelves like slaves on a ship. We dressed in rags. Most of the girls and women in my bunkhouse died of cold or starvation. Others were taken for “medical research. We never saw them again. 

A foul-smelling smoke wafted continuously from chimneys and ash fell on us all. I remember the nauseating feeling I got when I learned it was the ash of humans like me.

I love the Lord, because he has heard
    my voice and my supplications.
Because he inclined his ear to me,
    therefore I will call on him as long as I live.
The snares of death encompassed me;
    the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me;
    I suffered distress and anguish.
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
    “O Lord, I pray, save my life!”

15 Precious in the sight of the Lord
    is the death of his faithful ones.


The brutal Russians and the helpless Ukrainians are Christians. My name is Yuriy. I am Ukrainian. I am 14-years old. Invading Russian soldiers stopped my father Ruslan, and me when we went out for humanitarian aid. We raised our hands. We were unarmed. They shot my father dead. He was shot twice in the chest, right where the heart is. Then he fell. They shot me in the arm. As I lay on the ground, they shot at my head, but the bullet went through my hood.

Gracious is the Lord, and righteous;
    our God is merciful.
The Lord protects the simple;
    when I was brought low, he saved me.
Return, O my soul, to your rest,
    for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.

For you have delivered my soul from death,
    my eyes from tears,
    my feet from stumbling.
I walk before the Lord
    in the land of the living.

15 Precious in the sight of the Lord
    is the death of his faithful ones.

LRT 9 April 2022. Scripture is from Psalm 116, NRSV. The story in section IV comes from the BBC:

Running into Resting: A Study in Hebrews

Joining with God in God’s Work. A study in Hebrews

What is a person?

An elephant named Horton said, “A person is a person, no matter how small.”

But what is a person? What is personhood?

At the urgent request of the mother, I (the hospital chaplain) was called to into the operating room to be present during a cesarian section. The fetus was severely brain damaged. Doctors knew it could not survive outside the womb. In fact, though it was moving, it had no brain activity even inside the womb. The mother was overwhelmed and distraught and wanted the baby to be baptized as soon as it was born. 

I could have gotten into all sorts of theological arguments about who should be baptized and how, what this or that theological tradition permits or doesn’t, or what baptism is from a biblical perspective. I chose to ignore all that. This mom needed assurance that her baby was safe. I administered the ancient ritual and prayed for and with the mom.

That baby had no ability to think, act, reason, or (according to the pediatric neurologist) experience pain. Her brain was so malformed, it could not even direct the little lungs to breath or the tiny heart to beat. 

Was that baby a person? Is she in heaven with God? Will her mother see her someday? If so, what age will the baby be? Do children who die grow up in heaven, or wait for their parents to raise them? Do all who die before whatever is the age of accountability go to heaven? Is baptism a ticket to heaven? Is it salvific? Are those who were forced to be baptized against their wills Christians? 

Does personhood start at conception? How do we know? Scripture doesn’t say. “Natural law” all depends on your definition of “natural.”  The majority of fertilized ova never implant in the womb and are washed naturally out of a woman’s body. Are all of those fertilized eggs persons? Are they in heaven? Is heaven filled with persons who never even lived? Is heaven only for persons?

The baby in the operating room looked like a baby. Had you seen it, you’d have said, “That’s a baby girl. Sadly, a dead baby girl.” You might hesitate to say the same thing about a cell the size of a pencil dot.

Plato defined persons as beings with souls temporarily housed in bodies. True freedom lies in escaping the body, liberating the soul. Care of the soul is paramount. That view (sadly, in my opinion) became blended with Christian theology from the time of Augustine. Is the physical body, which God at creation declared “very good,” unimportant? Is this life merely a rehearsal? Is escape our goal?

John Locke and other Enlightenment philosophers tended to define persons as beings with rationality – the ability to think, make choices, and reason. But, what about a human being who has lost the capacity of moral choice, or the ability to reason and communicate because of birth defect, brain damage, or disease? Are they, as some have suggested, humans but not persons?

I was there at her side, whispering encouragement in her ear, telling her she was loved. Fully gowned, I stood next to her in the operating room holding her hand and thinking about my own children, including the one who died in his teens. 

The young woman had been in a car accident and subsequently declared brain dead. Her grieving parents donated her organs for transplant. She was breathing on her own; her heart was beating without the aid of medications. Her brainstem was working but the rest of her brain was not. A set of physicians and nurses attended her waiting for her heart to stop. Once it did, the organ procurement person started the official clock. 

Seven minutes later, all those present rushed out and a team of transplant surgeons who had flown in from another city rushed in to harvest her liver, lungs, pancreas, heart, and kidneys. They would then pack them in ice chests, rush out to a waiting ambulance that would emergently hurry them to the airfield where the private jet was waiting. Back in the city they came from, patients waited in operating rooms for those organs. 

This young woman was clearly a person before the accident. Did she cease to be a person when her upper brain function stopped? When her brain stem could no longer keep her heart beating? When the waiting physician pronounced her dead? Seven minutes later when the state said she was dead enough for her organs to be removed? Is a person still a person without a body? 

I was visiting patients in a small hospital that specializes in the care of humans who are so damaged they cannot do anything for themselves. Some are entirely comatose, unconscious, but breathing, hearts beating. Others could thrash about and moan. The attending nurses assumed all of them could hear and understand them. They spoke to them, joked with them, put up pictures for them to “look” at, and had running one-way conversations with them. That’s all as it should be. I was proud of those nurses. I admire them deeply. And who knows, maybe some of their patients did hear and understand a bit. Something intuitive tells me those are persons lying in that hospital – persons loved by God and worthy of being treated with dignity.

The psychology of warfare involves dehumanizing the enemy. They are no longer men, women, parents, spouses, or children, but “Japs,” “Krauts,” “Gooks,” or “Rag-heads.” Xenophobes dehumanize immigrants. They become “bad hombres,” or “illegals,” rather than refugees. Homophobes call homosexuals “fags” instead of men. The person who commits a crime is a “perp,” not a woman. Pseudoscientific Nazis decided Jews were not persons. The majority of whites in the antebellum south believed Africans were subhuman. It is far easier to kill, enslave, rape, abuse, deport, or dismiss a subhuman. It’s (hopefully) obvious that that is profoundly wrong. There are no “others.” There’s just us. 

We tend, I think, to associate personhood with bodies. The baby in the OR had a body. The severely damaged people in the specialty hospital had bodies. The comatose patient has a body. We assume, therefore, that they are persons, created in the image of God, loved by God, worthy of dignity and care, and destined for eternal life.

We rightly value the body. It isn’t just a shell or a tent to be cast off some fine day. That’s Platonism, not Christianity. Scripture clearly teaches the value of the human body. It bears the imago Dei. It is the temple of the Holy Spirit. It will be physically resurrected to eternal life. Healthcare workers, those attending to the needs of refugees, visiting prisoners, and feeding the homeless are doing godly work.

Even if the body doesn’t work, even if the brain can’t reason or feel, there is still a valuable human being there. Whether or not there is a person depends on our definition of person. If “human” and “person” are synonyms, then the answer is clear – a being with a body is a person regardless of ability to reason or communicate. 

What about beings without bodies? The spermatozoa cell, the ovum? What about the dead person? The disembodied soul? 

And what about animals? Animals can clearly think. At some level, they can reason and make choices. Octopuses are mollusks with no skeletons, no spinal columns, gills, three hearts, and blue blood that can walk on land, solve puzzles and have both short and long-term memories. Dolphins talk to each other. Orangutans use tools. We treat our dogs like children. Even trees communicate with one another. Every strand of DNA carries messages. Many people are convinced that a fertilized ova is a person. Women have even been convicted of murder after a miscarriage. If multiplying cells are persons, why not all living cells? Are orangutans, dogs, and dolphins persons? The octopus reasons and displays high intelligence. Is it a person? Do we need to expand the definition of personhood to include all living things? Is personhood to be equated with life-force?

It seems reasonably clear that human beings are part of nature, connected with all of creation, part of a marvelous web of interdependent reality. It seems clear that the physical universe, including our bodies, is important. All that is physical owes its existence to God, is treasured by God, is being rescued and renewed by God. Our bodies are good. We will live forever in resurrected bodies in a resurrected cosmos.

I do not believe that God is simply another name for reality, or that God is an impersonal life-force (although God created reality and the life-force that runs through every living thing). I don’t pray to the universe. The universe is impersonal. Every mountaineer knows the mountain doesn’t care if an avalanche snuffs you out. Every sailor knows the sea feels no regret when it swallows a ship. The rapidly mutating SARS-CoV-2 virus that is causing the global COVID-19 pandemic doesn’t care who is President or what Q-Anon thinks.

I believe that God is a person. I believe God interacts with, cares for, expresses love towards, speaks to, listens to, and is profoundly interested in each of us. That does not imply that God is confined to a body. I don’t picture an old man in the sky. None of our pronouns really work for God. I believe God has personhood that is beyond the physical. And, I believe that God is perfectly reflected in Jesus, the Messiah. 

As I read the Bible, it also seems clear to me that humans are in some capacity special. We have the capacity to love and be loved. We have the capacity to know we exist and to study our own existence. Humans have self-awareness. We have the capacity to interact with our creator, to know and love God. I cannot say for certain that no animals have any of those capacities, or that there are not intelligent beings elsewhere in the universe with similar capacities, but we do. 

Humans bear the image of God. That has nothing to do with physicality or appearance, and even less to do with the made-up construct of “race” (which has no biological validity). Whatever else the imago Deiincludes, it involves the capacity to know, love, and follow God. Obeying God means reflecting God’s nature to the world around us. The teenage girl giving up her free time to sit next to a nursing home resident holding her hand and listening to stories is beautifully reflecting the imago Dei. But so is the silent Alzheimer’s patient, the derelict drug addict, the incarcerated killer, the child I tutored whose outer ears had been gnawed off by rats, and the comatose woman.

All humans are loved by God. Jesus died for all. The eschaton, the telos, the final consummation of history includes people from every nation, language, culture, and ethnicity. It includes the incarcerated as well as the one on the outside. It includes the poor as well as the middle class, the gay person as well as the straight. It includes people of every skin tone and background. Perhaps the glorious Kingdom will include all sorts of creatures as well.

I don’t know if it’s proper to think of octopuses and birch trees as having personhood. I do not know when a mass of dividing cells becomes a person. Lawyers and philosophers notwithstanding, I doubt anyone does. I cannot settle on a definition of “personhood.” 

Nevertheless, I know God interacts with me personally, talks to me, comforts and guides me, holds me and cares for me in a way that no mere force of nature could do. I know that I am, like all of us, unique, beloved, and bearing (albeit imperfectly) the divine image. 

Why is Philemon in the Bible?

Living Out Your Calling in this Stage of your Life — a look at 2 Timothy

It Has Always Been So: sin & guilt in light of cosmic conflict

Some people seem incapable of guilt; others of us are saturated with it. I stumble, fall, and repent pretty regularly. Sometimes it’s relatively minor. Decades ago, it was major. My pillow has often been wet with tears of regret. 

But perhaps this whole thing is less about me than I thought. Perhaps I’ve been a pawn in a cosmic conflict. Perhaps we all have.

Pawns are sacrificed. The nobles – knights, bishops, queens, and especially kings – must be protected no matter the cost. Kings are worth more than pawns. Generals are worth more than foot soldiers. It has always been so.

Granted, some generals may feel consternation as they gather safely in faraway war-rooms. Meanwhile, infantry soldiers, grunts, and common seamen of all genders storm beaches, burn villages, and die young. Whole battalions shed their life blood to take or lose a hill, a fort, a foot of land. They imagine themselves heroic. Empires see them as martyrs. It has always been so. 

Lee sends Pickett with 12,000 poor southern boys charging across a field of slaughter. Eisenhower and his allied counterparts send 160,000 poor boys charging onto bloody beaches. 1.3 million poor Vietnamese and Americans died in Vietnam for what? – sacrificed by Johnson and Nixon et al for the sake of politics, saving face, ideology, and imperialism. With his captain’s bars, patent leather shoes, and dress blues, a thirty-year-old operates drones from a bunker near Las Vegas and kills sixteen poor Afghani civilians before lunchtime. Pawns, one and all. 

Mars demands human sacrifice. It has always been so.

Ah, but the politicians, billionaires, tycoons, barons, generals, presidents, prime ministers, and princes who are responsible for the slaughter of the poor and ordinary are themselves pawns. The high and mighty are pawns, played and used, just like the “nobodies” dying in the streets.

Behind all the wars and deaths, behind all the slaughter, behind all the betrayals, lies, greed and malignant narcissism, are unseen principalities, powers, spiritual wickedness, satanic forces of evil. Rich and poor alike, we allow them to use us as pawns. We are being played by the devil. It has always been so.

The red dragon does not operate alone. Monsters from both land and sea are willing assistants. Empowered by the slanderer who seeks only to destroy and kill, Empires and Religions join forces to pollute the earth, stir up the wars, stoke the fires of prejudice and hatred, spread the lies, and deny facts. 

I too have been a pawn. Duped into transgression and sin, I felt guilty for decades. Ignored, condemned and rejected by the religious, I lay bloodied and bruised by the roadside. I would be dead if not for several Samaritans. I blame myself. I am guilty. I take responsibility.  But I failed to see the demonic forces that played me. 

The Mỹ Lai massacre was the mass murder of unarmed South Vietnamese civilians by U.S. Army soldiers on March 16, 1968. Victims included men, women, children, and infants. Some of the women were gang-raped and their bodies mutilated, as were children as young as 12.  The military personnel who carried out the atrocity were responsible and culpable even if all but one was never brought to justice. But they were not acting in a vacuum. 

A nation trained them to kill. A nation taught them to fear and hate. A nation sent them to war – the same nation that denuded forests with agent orange, burnt humans with napalm, and previously obliterated Hiroshima. 

William Calley, Jr. was responsible for his actions. So were presidents, members of congress, drill sergeants, the military industrial complex, and the nationalism and xenophobia championed by “Christian” evangelists. Assisted by empire and religion, the satan was behind the monsters that were behind the persons of power who were behind the killers. There is blame all down the line. It has always been so.

As Denzel Washington’s character in the film Glory says, “Yeah, it stinks bad. And we all covered up in it too. Ain’t nobody clean.”

So perhaps, rather than condemning one another or condemning ourselves and wallowing in guilt and shame, aghast over our human capacity for betrayal, violence, and sin, we should – after individually repenting and making amends as best we can – recognize and fight the real enemy. Perhaps we should prayerfully come against the spiritual wickedness in high places. 

Perhaps we should take stands against the systemic evils embedded in nationalism, populism, white supremacy, growing fascism, militarism, historical revisionism, manifest destiny, and capitalism. 

Perhaps we need to pray for the insight and strength to resist being duped by empires and religious sounding propaganda. Perhaps we should stop waving flags.

Instead, let us love – 

love God, 

love others, 

love ourselves, 

love creation.

May it henceforth always be so.

Dogma: the Nemeses of Faith

Being Teachable

God is never coercive. God always leads gently.

Dogma, certainty, ideas set in cement, are the nemeses of faith. The spiritually astute always feel free to ask questions, ponder answers, politely push back, and challenge preconceptions. An essential element of humility is teachableness – the realization that we have a lot to learn, and that some of what we believe may be incomplete or even inaccurate. Humility means being open to changing one’s mind.

William Sloane Coffin[1] preached:

“[There] are those who prefer certainty to truth, those in church who put the purity of dogma ahead of the integrity of love. And what a distortion of the gospel it is to have limited sympathies and unlimited certainties; when the very reverse, to have limited certainties but unlimited sympathies, is not only more tolerant but far more Christian. For ‘who has known the mind of God?’[2] And didn’t Paul also insist[3] that if we fail in love we fail in all other things?”[4]

May God expand my sympathies. May I seek to understand rather than condemn; to empathize, not judge. May I approach other cultures with willingness to learn. May God give me the compassion that leads to sacrificial service. 

When I was in my 20s, newly endowed with fundamentalism, I had all the answers. I scoffed at my professors and the unenlightened that had not yet abandoned their traditions. I preached with certainty. I look back aghast.

 Bob Dylan sang:

Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now

I’m so much younger than I was 50 years ago.

And, yet, something in most of us seems to crave certainty, to prefer simplistic dogma to complex reality. Perhaps that is because it takes energy to wrestle with ideas, to stretch and learn. It is much easier to sit and absorb. Consistency and certainty make us feel safe. The world is understandable, controllable. 

Emerson wrote:

“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — ‘Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.’ — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.”[6]

It is a foolish consistency that becomes anti-intellectual, anti-educational, and dogmatic. When religion becomes dogmatic, harsh judgmentalism results.

And that is contrary to the will and nature of God.

[1] William Sloane Coffin (1924-2006) grew up in a wealthy family. His uncle was a famous preacher; his family owned a great deal of real estate in which they allowed people to live rent free during the Great Depression. Coffin was a veteran of World War II and later worked for the CIA. He was an ordained Presbyterian minister and senior pastor of the interdenominational Riverside Church in New York City. (Built by John D. Rockefeller to provide a preaching pulpit for Harry Emerson Fosdick, Riverside Church has roots with the American Baptists USA and the United Church of Christ, but is nondenominational. Martin Luther King, Jr., preached his famous “Beyond Vietnam” sermon there. Other guest preachers have included Nelson Mandela and Desmon Tutu.) A combination of his faith and his political and intelligence agency experience convinced Coffin of the illegality and immorality of the Vietnam War, which lead him to be a peace activist.

[2] Romans 11:34

[3] 1 Corinthians 13

[4] William Sloane Coffin, “Liberty to the Captives and Good Tidings to the Afflicted,” in Homosexuality & Christian Faith: Questions of Conscience for the Churches, ed. Walter Wink (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1999), 106–107

[5] Bob Dylan, Verse 6, My Back Pages, Copyright © 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1992 by Special Rider Music

[6] Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Self-Reliance”

Change the World God’s Way

The Epiphany of Emmanuel 

  • We pray for an end to injustice.
  • We pray for a welcoming of the displaced.
  • We pray for an end to a culture of death.
  • We pray for truth to prevail.
  • We pray for the hungry to be fed, the homeless to be housed, and the naked to be clothed.
  • We pray for health, wholeness and healing.
  • We pray for an end to poverty and want.
  • We pray for clean hearts and servant attitudes.
  • We pray for a world of shalom.
  • We pray for the expansion of the radically inclusive, subversive, multicultural body of Christ.

As we do, we are praying according to God’s will. We know we are because those are all biblical petitions. We know God desires to respond, enable, empower, and create.

But, how will God answer those prayers?

Not through magic, nor through violence, or political maneuvering.

God answers those prayers through us, using us as God’s hands, feet, and voice.

God within us emanates light, warmth, love, acceptance, and grace in all directions, indiscriminately and without judging. 

And, so, we must go deep within, learn the difference between the true and shadow self, find the motives behind our defenses, and allow the Great Physician to heal our deepest memories. We need to be reparented by Abba. We need to connect deeply with the Divine Spirit, learn to abide under the shadow of the Almighty, resting in the Secret Place of the Most High. 

Only there do we gain the wisdom, courage, and strength to change the world God’s way rather than the way of the world.

The way of the world involves violence, coercion, and dominance. The way of the world seeks to take over school boards and dominate a political party so its way can be forced on everyone. The way of the world is armed and ready; it invades capitols, stacks courts, and crushes opposition. It is the way many Jews chose in Jesus’ day. They wanted a messiah, but not one like Jesus. They wanted a violent messiah, one who would use his power to obliterate the Roman military machine, banish the pagan gentiles, and rule over a peaceful Israel.

Instead, Jesus washed feet, healed, forgave, welcomed sinners, and died on a Roman gibbet. This Messiah conquers hatred with love, overcomes sin with forgiveness, destroys death by dying, and overpowers chaos and evil by absorbing them into himself. This is deep magic. It cracks stone tables of sacrifice. The dead live. The living are being transformed. 

I pray for us to have the courage to stand against war, poverty, racism, injustice, sickness, environmental destruction, and inhumanity. I pray for us to have the courage to stand against evil God’s way, the way of Jesus, the way of love, the way of nonviolence, the way of the cross.

There is Love at the Center of the Universe

Dive into the ocean hidden in your chest, and discover a new world in yourself. — Attar of Nishapur

Strange and wonderful music reverberates throughout the cosmos.

How is it that millions of fragments can think and act as one? How do starlings form massive murmurations that fire the imagination? Who choreographs hundreds of lightening bugs? How can the physical cells that were once a man mowing lawns split into a billion points of light yet communicate and dance as one? 

And yet, that is exactly where he found himself a millisecond after his heart seized to a stop. Fully awake. Fully alive. Fully aware. Intact. Flying, swirling, weaving, cellular particles turning in on themselves, now a pirouette, revolving, twirling, dancing to the hymn of the universe, flashing through galaxies where time bends and light stands still.

All the molecules he had always called “me” split apart, dissipated, separated, drifting off in varied directions among quasars and nova, swirling about the fiery rings of black holes where space-time curves and braids into strands of aqua light, and where seraphim chant haunting symphonies of harmonious ethereal sounds.

He was quite calm, observing with interest that he was cognizant yet simultaneously in millions of molecules spread over galaxies, swimming in oceans, climbing mountains, strolling through gardens, visiting his widow in her dreams, and flying through space. 

His multiplicity-singularity dove like roosting chimney swifts into a massive black hole where his fragments coalesced into a new body – immortal, no longer susceptible to disease or pain, no longer limited by time or space, able to surf the stars and ride the dolphins across seas of warm grace.

Through wormholes and ripples of space-time, whole, solid, embodied. Here people become musical notes and the colors of the morning. Here, people merge with electromagnetic energy. Eons of oceans surge within Denisovan descendants. 

Here, bighorn sheep speak quietly.

Aborigines explain their intricate petroglyphs to medieval scholars who stroke their beards and consult dusty tomes. 

Here, there are no warriors, no bullies, no officers with guns, no judges with gavels, no cells, no chains. Bombastic politicians lie hog-tied and gagged, merchants weep, and dictators wring their hands while children laugh and play, tossing dreams into the air. Amber stardust floats back to earth and takes the form of talking frogs wearing waistcoats and geese sporting bonnets.

Here Alpha becomes Omega. He swirls with the hymns of the cosmos and communes with the atoms from which he was formed and the seawater that courses through his veins. He can simultaneously be fully present in dozens of places.

Space-time turns out to not be empty, nor cold. There is a substance, an ether, like air to a bird, like water to a fish, in which all dwells. It feels warm, comforting, pleasant, relaxing, and peaceful. Tranquility reigns. 

Deep within, we intuitively sense that we are cradled by something both wonderful and incomprehensible. 

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