One practice that I’ve developed to help me become a better Thanatist is what I call the “death trip”–a simple, short meditations that helps bring a particular aspect of our own mortality’s healing power to our minds. These can be generic meditations on our own mortality, or they can be designed to elicit certain powers of our mortality–destroying the ego, being present, or resetting.
I’ll share a few death trips below, but I want to use this as an opportunity to make something clear about Thanatism–Thanatism isn’t mine; it’s ours. I’m using these posts as a way to get things started, but there is much work to be done and it will take all of us to do it. We can do much better than the death trips I’ll share. In fact, given the multimedia tools at our disposal, I can only imagine what we might come up with. As your own practices develop, I hope you’ll consider contributing them.
Only Now
Think back. Think back to your first memory and bring it forward in your mind. Likely you aren’t sure if it’s your first, but that sort of forgetting is part of what you are. Can you visualize yourself clearly? For me they are just wisps of reconstructed thought–crouching on the stairs with a friend looking through the banister at the babysitter below and feeling devious, an image of my friend’s rubber mouse and a longing to possess what wasn’t mine.
When’s the last time you brought these thoughts to mind? Where is that child? What did it feel like to be that person who knew nothing outside of the small world she was born into? What was he looking forward to? Did she have regrets? Was he happy? Is she you? If you can’t answer these questions, who can? If you don’t think about them, who does? Is that child alive today or is he already gone?
Now imagine your resurrection into an eternal life. Spend some time adjusting. Now what? Perhaps you’re omnipotent and can summon forth whatever your mind can conceive. Perhaps you start by meeting with every other human who has ever lived. How long did you spend with them? Do you know them completely? Are you really still human when you’re done?
Now venture forth to every planet. Every star. Every feature of the night sky visible and beyond. Time is not a concern. What happens when you have done everything? What are you? Perhaps it’s time to stop. But there is no stopping. You are eternal. Stopping does not exist. Ends do not exist. You have eternally just begun.
Do everything you’ve just done again–and again–and again. You’re no closer to the end than you were before. You’re just at the beginning. Again and again. No closer to the end. Again and again. What have you become? It doesn’t matter, you’re still at the beginning again. Keep going and going and going. And when you’ve reached the end, start again and repeat, and repeat, and repeat. It’s just the beginning. It doesn’t stop there. It doesn’t stop ever. You never stop. You can never stop. You are eternal.
Now come back to you. Feel your breaths. Remember your first love. Your life is a precious few seconds in the eternal. Think of everything you’ve accomplished. Think of everything you want to become. The whole sum of who you have been and will ever be is just an instant in the eternal. And when those breaths stop, in an instant of the instant that is the totality of you, you will never be again. And when everything you have known on this planet is gone, when our earth, our sun, and everything humanity has ever known exists no more, it will just be the beginning of an eternal nevervoid of not you.
The eternal will remain–the eternal not you. It will never end. It will continue and continue and continue. It does not stop. It is always a beginning–even should the universe come to an end. You do not exist there in the Nevervoid. It does not stop. It continues. It is the eternal. It is the eternal not you and it will soon begin. You will not see the end. You will not be, but for the instant you are. You are now, friend. Nothing more. You are now, friend. Nothing more.
Automaton
Forget. Forget it all. The thoughts of what you have to do today. Those are gone. That person exists no more. Your past, your memories, they are no longer yours. That being is dead. All that it was, has been washed away with it.
Forget. Forget more than just you. Forget it all. You don’t know what it means to be a human. You’ve never fallen asleep, eaten a meal, or opened your eyes. You’ve never held a phone, ridden in a car, or used a microwave. You don’t know anyone. You don’t even know what it means to know another. You’ve never had a conversation, smiled at another person, or held a hand. You’ve never seen another human. You don’t even know what you look like. If you looked in a mirror, what sort of miracle would you see?
You are a new human. This is your first moment, your first day. You have no past. You have no future. You have no connection with any other. You’ve just been created and dropped into this world, at this time, and all you have to do is begin to be.
Focus on your body. Feel gravity pulling down on your arms. What does it feel like? Slowly, just barely move your arm up. Do you feel the resistance? Are you holding something in your hand? Focus on your finger tips. Do you feel them or what they are touching? Why haven’t you felt them before?
Now take a deep breath. Do you feel the pressure in the center of your body? Visualize your diaphragm pulling down. Visualize the vacuum it’s creating below your chest that pulls air into your lungs through your mouth and nose. Feel the blood vessels absorbing your oxygen rich blood. Feel the blood being pulled from your lungs into your heart. Feel it forcefully ejected again and again to the rest of your body.
Now think of the you that’s doing this thinking, the voice that’s talking to you inside. As you read these words where are they going? Physically? Try to feel the center of this you in your big toe. Were you able to do it? How about at the point of your right elbow? Can you imagine it there? Now try something different. Try to feel the you that is thinking this slightly above and behind your eyes. Is that easier to feel? Can you feel the words and the voice, there in your head?
It’s possible because that’s where you are. You’re feeling your brain at work. You’re feeling you for what you are. A body. A body that takes in air to function. A body that pumps each breath through the blood within. A body that takes in light through the transparent membranes of its eyes and can sense the rhythm of the air through tiny bones in its ears.
Go ahead and smile. Feel the muscles tightening around your mouth as they lift its corners. It’s okay to be a body. You’re a miracle in action and this journey has just begun.
Care
Feel your mind reaching out. Feel it sorting through impressions, memories, hopes, fears. When it latches onto something, you have found care. Don’t try to control your mind right now. Let your care run free. Where does it land? How does it make you feel? Is it an object of your choosing or does the object of your care choose you?
If you feel unsettled or unhappy, where did your care go? If it’s found a destination, name it. Say it out loud. That word is the source of worry. When care lands on fear, we worry. If you feel the cloud of concern, but your care won’t reveal its source, you are anxious. Let your mind speak to you. Let it speak until it reveals the source of your fear. Hold that object in your mind, and let your mortality wash over it. What does death have to say? The object of your fear is temporary, just as are you. You have no ability to maintain that fear in the face of death, for death comes for all. Death is the end of fear.
Letting go. This is the first step to true freedom. Freedom comes from caring, and the first step to caring is letting go. Let go of that which you hold so tight. Let go of that which you fear to lose. Let go of that which you strive for so hard that it makes you sick. Choose to let go. Choose to set your care free. Hold up the sick object of its affection to death and let death take its toll.
What if you don’t care? What if your care is broken? What if you let it go and it returns empty? Care that is too often denied will retreat. It hides. It turns within. It feels disgust. Sick care cannot choose, until it has been reawakened.
Death teaches us that we have but one life to live. To live is to care, but how can a creature who no longer cares be redeemed? Your care needs to discover its true nature again. It needs to be drawn out of you. To begin its redemption, just reach out. Not metaphorically, but with your hand, reach out. The object doesn’t even matter. Just reach out and touch.
Feel the contact of the other against your skin. Let your fingertips brush against it. Feel the rough. Feel the soft. Feel the wet. Feel the warmth or the cold. Name what you feel. Round, sharp, delicate, squishy, grainy, prickly, hard. Describe that which you touch until words begin to fail you, and then describe it more.
Move now. Find another object. Touch it. Feel it. Describe it. Find another. And another. And another until you’re forced to leave your place where your care has been trapped to find another object to touch. Walk, ride, run until you can’t touch anymore and then find yet another object to touch.
Finding. This is the second step to true freedom. Freedom comes from caring, and the second step to caring is finding. Touch the world until it touches you back. If you touch the world enough, you shall find your care.
Finding your care is not the end though. You’ve gone out. You’ve touched until you couldn’t touch anymore. You found the object of your care and you named it. You spoke it out loud, but did anyone hear?
Death teaches us that no one will ever know us except those with whom we share this world. A care, once found, is an isolated thing until it is shared. Your care isn’t truly free if it’s trapped inside of you. Ah, but the other. The other can cause pain with a single glance. The other must be feared. So we let this go as well. We let go of the glance of the other. We hold it up to death and let it wither in the dark. And just as we found our care by touching indiscriminately, we find our other by sharing without expectation. We share, not for the other, but rather to nurture our care.
Sharing. This is the third step to true freedom. Freedom comes from caring, and the third step to caring is sharing your care with others. Let it run free amongst the others until the sideways glances turn to interest. If you share your care freely, you won’t need to find your people. They will find you.
Letting go. Finding. Sharing. What more is there to life? Such a life of caring and sharing is indeed grand, but care is not for you alone. Not everyone has been able to let go. Not everyone has found their care. There are others, just like you, who keep their care to themselves out of fear.
Seek these people out. If they cannot touch, touch them. If they cannot find, show them what you have. If they are afraid to share, listen. Draw forth their care into the vacuum of your being.
Caring for. This is the fourth step to true freedom. Freedom comes from caring, and the fourth step to caring is caring for others. A world of one caring being isn’t a world. If your care burns bright for the world to see, but others fail to shine, it is still a world of darkness, but if you care for others, this world shall glow with a white hot heat.
Surely this must be the end. What more can there be than a world full of care. What more can there be than a world full of sharing. What more can there be than a world where we all show our care for one another? There is nothing more. And although that’s all that care can offer, it is not the end.
Ending. This is the final step to true freedom. Freedom comes from caring, and the final step to caring, is letting it go. Find your care and set it free. Show your care to others. Care for others until their own care is set free. Revel in the caring world you have chosen to create, but also know that your care shall one day end. Only then, when you accept the end of your care, shall you finally be free.