Many of us try to get as much as we can out of life, and many people keep traveling and going here and there, off to the jungles or South America to get more out of it. And secretly they still feel empty; they cannot feel their experience, cannot really experience it, because feeling is meaning and that lies out of reach of so many of us. Without feeling centers what do sharks get out of life? No a lot. Not much meaning. We are feeling mammals; we need to be in contact with that in ourselves. My pal got as much as he could but he spent most of his life going to Europe to doctors. He was never told he was dying but he sensed it; and one day after a doctor visit, he asked his mother, “Do they speak English where I’m going?” Whereupon I crashed, thinking of his agony and his dread. That tiny body riddled with foreboding that no one could take away. That is what many of us have all of the time; foreboding of a crime foretold and a crime already passed. And that crime is the pain that settles in so early in so many of us that leaves us with the same foreboding that my pal had; why? because death was in the offing so soon in our lives, at birth and before. It happened even sooner than what happened to my little pal. And it was imprinted and remained a force that dogged us. So we travel and go and go, and still that appointment in Summara catches up to us and rings our bell so loudly that we cannot even sleep. It says “death is hurrying toward us,” and there is no escape. That memory is hurtling to our conscious/awareness at warp speed and no matter what we do and where we go, it is unrelenting. This is a reality in our young innocent lives; death was approaching, strangled on the cord, too much anesthesia, etc. There was no exit and still isn’t. It never lets us rest.
We keep on going very much like my pal, traveling all over Europe to find surcease: a cure. Alas. No. For us the cure is to feel; to retrieve what we lost early on when death was coming toward us. We can do it now. My pal can’t.