Friday, November 12, 2010
the fatal fantasy failed.
Two days ago there was the usual daily running.
This time not on the long beach but on the land.
Due to a strong northwestern wind.
The track on the land that makes a circle through the desert among bushes and cactuses and rocks and dust for about 50 minutes.
It is an exhausting and challenging run because the road goes up and down, is uneven and full of rocks.
And occasionally a big snake may be resting on the track.
But two days ago there was an additional experience running on that road.
Out of nothing a very, very strong feeling was experienced that somebody ahead was standing there.
Waiting to meet the runner.
And this person waiting was wearing a long black cloth with a cape.
With in his hand a scythe.
Immediately it was realized this was Mr. Death himself.
Of course many times in books this phenomenon of Death as a man in a long black dress and wide cape with a scythe in one hand was read being described.
And it has been seen as an image often.
But it was always believed that this image of Death was the result of human fantasy.
How man imagines how Death manifests itself when the moment has come.
A childish and naive representation of something or someone we can’t know anything about.
But then we don’t really know.
When the moment has come to die, why not could it be that a creature with a scythe in the hand comes to guide us to forever?
And while running and experiencing and feeling so incredibly strongly that in front Mr. Death was waiting, the thought grounded that maybe this is actually as it is.
When we die a creature in a wide black coat with a cape hiding the face and a scythe in the hand comes to meet us.
This is a frightening thought, fervent and loyal blog readers.
Becoming convinced that Mr. Death actually exists and is the one to meet as the last experience before to die.
And that in less than a minute he will be met because he is waiting there.
This conviction, how ridiculous and preposterous as it was, nevertheless was extra firm and royally reigning.
It was deeply believed the last steps in life were being made.
That in the days to come some Mexican visiting the area to dive for oysters would find the corpse of the athlete already partly consumed by coyotes.
A European man died of a heart attack while running.
And actually this is not an unlikely scenario.
In the family two generations ago heart attacks were common.
This because of genetic high levels of cholesterol.
Nowadays several members of the family have also this issue but live longer by taking medication, artificially lowering the too high level of cholesterol.
The pioneering photographer has been diagnosed having this family characteristic as well and doctors insisted to take daily cholesterol lowering medication.
This has been refused.
Never in the life the body was bothered with medication having the philosophy that when it is time to go, it is time to go.
But that meanwhile it is wise to have a very well balanced diet and regime of physical exercise plus being mentally balanced and in harmony as a strategy to stay alive.
This works well until now and the body is thankfull for not having to digest chemical substances with severe side effects.
But more and more it is becoming likely that Mr. Death might be met.
It can’t take more time than life has been enrolling itself already.
And there on this rough road running it was strongly felt he was there.
Total conviction the moment had come.
But then the book of Carlos Castaneda “A separate reality” was remembered in which a Mexican Indian Shaman called Don Juan explains that life must be lived as a warrior.
That one has to fight for independence, balance, harmony and enlightenment.
Not fighting as we humans do each other with weapons and napalm and waterboarding.
But in this context it is fighting in a spiritual way.
To remain in the own tracks and grounded in the own karma and to not being fished out of the stream of the own life.
By making choices out of total conviction.
From the heart and the soul synchronistic with life and the universe.
And remembering Don Juan and his wise lessons it was realized that Mr. Death was indeed there in front waiting to take the runner out of life.
But that still being alive a choice could be made.
The choice to deliver oneself to Mr. Death and go with him as a lamb to the altar.
Or to chose to stay alive and be stronger than Mr. Death.
To not allow even Mr. Death permission to terminate a process of growing.
Because it is far from finished.
The choice was instantly made without hesitation.
And the fatal fantasy failed.