Embracing Death

Amid life’s fleeting journey, death stands as an inevitable reality we all face, arriving without warning and sparing no one. It does not discriminate between young or old, rich or poor, powerful or powerless. No wealth or status can shield us from its reach. Even Alexander the Great, famed for creating one of the largest empires in ancient history, could not delay the moment of his death.

Legend has it that when Alexander the Great was returning to his homeland, he consulted astrologers about the circumstances surrounding his death. Their calculations indicated that his life was nearing its end. Caught between honesty and self-preservation, the astrologers crafted their response carefully: “O mighty king, you will not meet your end until the earth turns to iron and the sky transforms into gold.”

Pondering this cryptic message, Alexander felt reassured. Such miracles, he mused, will take aeons; perhaps I am destined to live forever. With this comforting thought, he began his journey westward toward Persia. However, as Alexander navigated the Makran Desert, he was struck by a malaria attack. “I need to stop,” he said to his chief minister.

The minister implored, “O sir, I beg you, ride just a few more miles; perhaps we may find a tree under whose shade you can rest.” So, Alexander and his army pressed on across the barren expanse, but Alexander’s condition deteriorated rapidly. Unable to ride further, Alexander dismounted and collapsed onto the scorching ground, gasping for breath.

Desperate to provide comfort, the minister removed his coat of iron chainmail and spread it on the sand as a resting place for the king, while holding his shield above Alexander’s face to shelter him from the sun. As he lay on the ground, Alexander saw the shield, richly adorned with gold stripes and realized the truth of the astrologers’ prediction: the earth beneath him was iron, and the sky above was gold.

Soon, the royal physicians arrived and assessed the king’s condition. “Your majesty,” they professed, “there is no use in deceiving you; you are lying on death’s door.”

“Is there no remedy at all?” Alexander asked, desperation tinging his voice. “I will give half my kingdom to anyone who can prolong my life just enough, so I may see my mother one last time.”

The physicians, bound by their duty to truth, responded, “Nay, sire, the fever is too severe. No medicine can save you now.” Turning to his minister, Alexander declared, “O faithful friend, announce that I will give all my conquests to anyone who can take me alive to my mother. I will live on alms if I must.”

“Your majesty,” the physicians said with grave finality, “not a single breath remains for you, and no one can prevent your passing now.”

At this, the mighty conqueror wept like a child and realized the fleeting nature of life.

Fear of death
Alexander the Great’s desire to see his mother one last time raises questions about his choices and priorities. His willingness to relinquish his kingdom and live humbly suggests that had he been conscious of his mortality before his final moments, he might have prioritized returning home over empire-building. Yet, believing he had ample time, Alexander continued expanding his territories until it was too late.

Like Alexander the Great, most of us ignore our mortality. Each passing day, week, month and year should serve as a reminder that the knock of death grows ever closer. Instead, we celebrate birthdays, conveniently forgetting that each one edges us closer to our funeral. The reason we ignore death is simple; we’re scared of it. We know nothing about what happens to our soul (and mind) when, at the time of death, they finally leave the physical body. We keep death shrouded in mystery.

Logic dictates that if we could experience dying before our actual death, we’d know what to expect and, therefore, overcome our fear. The idea of dying while living, not in metaphorical terms but the actual physical experience of what happens when we die, seems extraordinary, if not outrightly absurd. Yet true mystics have taught spiritual seekers the technique of dying while living since the beginning of time. These Shabd-realized guides, who navigate seamlessly between the physical world and spiritual realms, inform us that:

Death is not to be feared. It is only the name given to the phenomenon of the soul leaving the body and its entrance into finer regions. It is merely giving up the present garment, namely, the body. It does not mean annihilation. There is life after death, although we may not be able to see it.
_{Philosophy of the Masters, Vol. I}

While the Great Master’s words provide a modicum of reassurance, we will never wholly eradicate our fear of death unless we too perfect the art of dying by practising the meditation technique taught by our Master. This practice, handed down by the mystics, offers a path to transcend our fear and find peace in the face of mortality.

Dying while living
At the time of initiation, mystics bestow five holy names. Their repetition enables spiritual seekers to concentrate the scattered rays of their soul’s consciousness into a single focal point. By gathering its dispersed rays at the eye centre, the soul connects with the sound current and begins its ascent to higher spiritual realms. Mystics refer to this process as dying while living because it mirrors what happens during physical death. As explained in A Spiritual Primer:

When a person dies, the soul current begins to withdraw from the body, starting with the soles of the feet and ending with the top of the head. The whole body becomes numb, and when all of the soul current has collected at a point between the eyebrows, breathing stops and all bodily functions cease. At that moment, the soul leaves the body and the person dies.

While gathering one’s attention at the eye centre parallels the experience of dying, substantive differences exist between the two processes. In meditation, the bond between the soul and the body remains intact, enabling the soul to experience death without ever leaving the body. Moreover, while physical death can often be a painful experience – particularly for those unfamiliar with it – the death encountered during meditation is profoundly blissful. A seeker who has mastered the art of withdrawing their consciousness to the eye centre perceives this state as true life; conversely, they consider themselves in a state of death when their attention descends below the eye centre.

By dedicating ourselves to the practice of dying while living, we demystify death, and it ceases to be a source of fear. Rumi urges us to embrace this practice, suggesting that if we could detach our souls from the confines of the body, we would ascend to an ever-blooming garden of peace and eternal life. As cited in the book, Living Meditation, Rumi states:

What a blessing it would be
If you were one night to bring your soul out of the body,
And, leaving this tomb behind,
Ascend to the skies within.
If your soul were to vacate your body,
You would be saved from the sword of Death:
You would enter a Garden that knows no autumn.