My dearest friend, Ani, picked me up from the train station in Eugene. She took me to sit with a friend whose father was dying. Oh my goodness. I went right in to introduce myself and let him hear my voice. Looking at him, I saw colors I didn’t expect in unusual places: lots of dark yellow around the heart with a tiny pink core of lace around the edges of the heart, blue in his gut and red-brown in his head area. “Was he an angry man?” I asked. Yes. I asked to release his worldly burden from his shoulders and as those were released, life’s experiences were drawn into his heart and his heart let go of the sorrow-full yellow and the pink glowed brighter and puffier. There was a black writhing energy showing itself coming out of the gut. I teased it out and offered it as energy to the Earth Mother. As his daughter came in the room, a light shot out of her 3rd chakra to his 3rd chakra and I understood that her energy was holding him here and pulling on him. No wonder she was exhausted. This happened every time she came in and it seemed to me that it was causing him to stay embodied longer than needed. She constantly called to him to acknowledge that she was there by squeezing her hand, which he did, and then to indicate if he was in pain by another squeeze… Which he never did. I suggested she sit with him 2 full hours and tell him everything she could think of. She let out the love when she was with him; but she was also full the anger and pain of growing up with him. She let that out with us.
The next morning, much had shifted. He was peacefully in his deathing process. There was no more squeezing. His colors were swirling. An energy came into his crown and went to his throat and swirled like a whirlpool there. From the throat, the energy moved and then made a figure eight in his 2nd chakra. When it left there, it went to his kidneys moving in circles around each one. Then everything stopped. I felt that was all for now. The daughter was so full of her own pain that she saw pain on the same face that I saw total peace. She was insistent that morphine and tranquilizers be given to him each night. So, who was it for?
That night Ani and I went to Nicky Scully’s once a month open house. Nicky leads trips to Egypt and writes books on it too. Who better to ask about the ankh? As I pick it up, I hear, “Ask her to activate it.” So she does, then rubs a beautiful oil into it. I receive it back and she suggests we have a journey on Friday.
We go back to the friend and her dying father. We find him at that place in the deathing journey where you feel that it might be forever, yet you know it can’t be. I spoke to the daughter about how death creates our birth and how allowing him to die a conscious death without drugs would offer him a birth without drugs; but she was defensive and said that she was going to do what the hospice team said, drug him. Her daddy left his body Thursday evening at 7pm. What he showed me two days before would help many others. What she showed me was the answer to a question I had long held.
I understood C-sections better now. I felt this was a C-section death. Just like so many C-section births: this was a death that did not consider the “baby,” but more the caregiver’s needs. He did not need her pulling him back to comfort herself. He could have gone quite consciously had the caregiver not been in such fear, he did not need to wait for her schedule. Nor did he need the morphine. On one hand she was exhausted from the three weeks of constant care, but she did not attend to her own inner work, that would have freed him in a more conscious death, and therefore a clear and conscious birth. Oh, that we do our own work. Help us truly see who the one before us and not our own pain.
