Me:(Kyra): Let’s talk about death, Andrea.
Andrea: Do we have to? It’s such a morbid subject and done to death really, sorry for the pun.
Me: I’ll try not to sound all “doom and gloom”, sorry about the cliché.
Andrea: Okay, but I really like the part in your Concept of the Whole and Threadism Theory (Part One), which says there will be greater awareness when our bodies die and we become more integral with the consciousness of the Whole. The ‘Whole’ being entirely everything....
8. In parting with the shell we become more aware, as we are awake to the greater Whole.
Andrea: Mm…interesting concept. Do you think it will catch on?
Me: Well, if I’m right, others of Light Matter know this already.
Andrea: And the Light Energy has always known.
Me: Precisely.
NB - I think we (95%) are as connected to the 5% as a musician is connected to a trumpet/ trombone etc. We blow breath (life) through it and the music we play is an extension and expression of ourselves.
Thanks for your spacing. It makes it so much easier to read.
Speaking of death, I like the old Woody Allen quote: A self-admitted hypochondriac it reported that he once said,
"I am not afraid of death, I just don't want to be there when it happens ... Dying is one of the few things that can be done as easily lying down." Obviously it can be done in many other ways. Just last week, my wife and I--as part of the ministry of THE FAMILY LIFE FOUNDATION
www.flfcanada.com --ministered to an older friend of ours the day before he died. He was 86 and had been a founding-member of the FLF Board IN 1973.
At his funeral--and it was a CELEBRATION OF A LIFE LIVED, not just about gloom and doom--which I conducted, his son told us that his father died while sitting in his chair the day after our visit. "Dad" he said, "ate a very good breakfast. When he finished, I asked him if he wanted anything else. He said yes, he wanted some yogurt. When I came back with it, it looked like he had fallen asleep in his chair. But, when he failed to respond to my voice, I soon discovered that he had died, peacefully. Your visit was a great help, thanks."
BTW, while looking for the Woody Allen quote I came across this:
On Hypochondria: The Thrill of Fear
by Joyce Millman
NOVEMBER 14, 2008
Woody Allen once said, “I’m not a hypochondriac, I’m an alarmist.”
Boy, I know the feeling. As a lifelong hypochondriac, I go through periods where I turn myself into a human car alarm, my anxiety screeching on high alert, hypersensitive to the tiniest aches and pains, real or imagined. Sure, hypochondriacs are easy to laugh at.
And in my more lucid phases, I am acutely aware of how comical my intermittent health frenzies must look from the outside: the stomachache that must surely be colon cancer, the vertigo that whispers, “Brain tumor!” But I assure you it’s not funny living inside my head during those times when I am in the throes of a full-on hypochondria freak-out.
Hypochondria is the snowball that starts the avalanche. The genuine but not life-threatening health issue triggers the “What If?” worries, which gather momentum as they roll downhill, triggering more symptoms, real and imagined, finally exploding into panic, anxiety, depression or all three combined. When I’m fixated on my body, nothing and no one can convince me that I’m perfectly fine. Doctors respond with varying degrees of concern and patience.
I have been referred to specialists for all kinds of colorful (and, as it turns out, often unnecessary) tests; I have been sent off to shrinks; I have been gifted with lovely antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds, which I always understood as the doctors’ way of saying, “Get the hell out of my office and quit wasting my time.”
People with small imaginations don’t become hypochondriacs. It’s the mountain-out-of-molehill-makers among us who are ripe for the picking. I’ve always thought of it as an illness rooted in narcissism. We can imagine our own deaths only too vividly, but what really terrifies us is the knowledge that the party will go on without us. How dare it. ...
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