Remembering that we will all die might be the only certainty we all share, at least. We have another one; we don’t know when it will come, and it can come tomorrow or in an hour.
This is a positive thought because it reminds me of compassion.
It reminds me of anyone who triggers something in me, anyone I might be judging as imperfect, like that Instagram influencer who was more focused on recording herself for her followers this morning than on practicing yoga.
My yoga mat was right next to hers in a beautiful synchronicity for me to practice compassion. I did something similar to her when I started sharing on the Internet twenty years ago. I was “building and entertaining an audience,” and frankly it served me well as I then created the “LeWeb” conference with my audience. It also served others well as entrepreneurs got inspired by the excellent speakers we had; Uber was born there, alongside thousands of other startups, over more than ten years.
Writing here is somewhat similar too; I could keep this thought to myself instead of sharing it with those subscribed here, like a bottle dropped in the ocean.
My “random” yoga neighbor (I don’t believe in randomness anymore) also had the biggest fake butt and fake lips I have ever seen in my life, pushing my compassion training even further. I am guessing her followers love it and encourage her to modify her body even more.
I could not help but think: how can I stop judging and love her as she is, as my yoga neighbor this morning? Death on both of our shoulders cuts through any judging; we are both alive and figuring out how to go through this life. We are both practicing yoga. She seemed to practice it to please her followers, and it makes me wonder if I am writing right now to do the same.
Everyone I meet shares the same suffering through life and the same path towards death; we are all doing what we can to go through this incarnation.
Ramana Maharshi and his one-hour-read pamphlet “Who am I” came immediately to mind. There is no “I”. She is me, and I am her.
Her suffering is mine. Her tendency to please others, amplified by technology, is also mine. She is a gift for me to practice compassion towards her, myself, and everyone because she is me and I am her.
Reminding myself that Death is around the corner cuts through any doubt that I must be nice, loving, and positive at all times; I must enjoy the moment.
The universe is blinking at us, seating both of us together.
There is no need to go to any Church or practice any religion (I respect those who do since they are me too); the universe, also called God by some, is right here inside of us, showing us the way every breath we take.
Like most of us, Death came close many times in my life as I lost my sister, my father, and all my grandparents, or as I went through tens of “near-death experiences” in my spiritual practices. Some “near-death” experiences were long enough for me to see the other side or give me that impression that I was actually dead, as I saw myself dead literally from above, then came back.
Four days with no food, no water, and dancing under the Sun got me there every single year for the last six years. The ritual is called the “Sundance” and it’s not the film festival.
When I experimented near physical death, my perception of the world and the illusion of “MY-SELF” became clearer every day.
So why am I writing this to you, subscribed to this electronic and public journal?
It might seem like I'm writing to get attention or promote myself, but I'm not, or at least it isn’t my intention this time.
My intention is to remind myself constantly, so I am doing it today and could write reminders like this daily.
Like a bottle dropped in the ocean, if this thought helps me, I hope it helps anyone else too; I feel like I've made a small contribution toward a better world.
But really, I am writing mainly to remind myself here.
Merci Loïc, it’s exactly what I needed to read today.
"writing mainly to remind myself" - absolutely - and sing as you go :)