Where death is a friend

Sometimes, when I am all alone, I think of death. My death. I feel sad, and sometimes, a little scared.

If I take life for granted, why does death not yet feel like a true friend? For surely, He is all that is waiting, at the door. There is no other way out of here.

Although I am a confirmed Ramesh (read Advaita) fan, I admit I have gone out shopping for death. In other words, I did not buy Ramesh's take on the end of life being end of book, not just chapter.

Among the stuff I read, what appealed to me most were the near death experiences, NDE, where the patients come back unexpectedly from nearly dying, to tell us how beautiful it is in heaven, and how they just did not want to come back. How they met Jesus, how they flew with the angels with a body so light, how they met their old dog (ok, this one I have added, but why not? ), how they were told that they have some work left to do, so they had to come back, etc, etc.

So a couple of years ago, when I was transcribing a book for Ramesh, when I was alone with him, (it wont look good for an old timer to ask questions during satsang, right?), I asked him about death.

In fact, I specifically asked about the near death numbers.

'Do you think all of them are mind woven?' I asked him.

'The point to reflect upon is,' he said, 'that most of them, did not want to come back!. Which can only mean one thing. That the process of dying might be painful, but the moment of death has to be a moment of utmost freedom.'

There, I got it straight from the horse's mouth.

His eyes twinkled in his old face and he said, again, ' Old age, ill health, the process of dying might be a drag, but the moment of death, Grasshopper, has to be a moment of utmost freedom!'