Not dead again!
Sharon Heller
4/1/20242 min read
Bill (is that his real name anymore?... What’s in a name?),
asks at the end of his March 15 blog post,
“How about you?”
It was 2021 in Austin, Texas.
Sitting quietly, I simply knew I was done.
Completely, totally, fully done.
There was nothing left of “me” and nothing left to “do”.
I’d done everything I needed or intended to do. I wasn’t unhappy. I wasn’t ill.
Just didn’t need to be in human form anymore.
Surprise! I’m still here. Hmmm?
Maybe I fixed a cup of coffee then. Perhaps looked out the windows.
Probably went for a walk and enjoyed the shore birds on Town Lake.
Clearly this body and those aspects identifiable as “Sharon” were not done
even though I was.
Months later—but for all intents and purposes, it was next—
I moved to Evanston (Chicagoland) by Lake Michigan.
You could say transported, but it did involve boxes and a moving truck and driving.
Not where I ever thought I’d be. Nice place.
Only four local people knew the good-old Sharon identity.
I didn’t need to be her. I could live, play, be free.
Months after that, I was visiting in Texas, in Liberty (yes! Liberty)
in the home of a friend of a friend.
Four of us would cruise to Mahahual, Mexico the next morning.
Upon entering alone to my assigned bedroom, about 10 pm,
my body suddenly filled with an all-consuming fire.
Did someone die of fire in this room? my old psychic self asked.
The house wouldn’t be here anymore, my good old logical brain replied.
The burning intensified, especially in the middle of my chest.
I’m having a heart attack. I’m going to miss the cruise.
Well, that’s not my problem. It’s my friends’ problem. They’ll have to deal with the body.
Then the material plane corrupted, moving in waves, permeable,
not navigable, following no known laws of gravity or form.
Did someone slip me a drug, or am I having a stroke?
Same not my problem response. But still here.
Mind broke the rules next. "I’m going crazy. Not my problem.
I won’t know and someone else will deal with it.”
But out from the depths comes my decades old mantra,
Thank you. Thank you.
I’d repeated it maybe ten to fifteen times before I thought of Bill
and all the other great spirits, human and otherwise, I have known in this lifetime.
I slipped into oneness, translucent, one cell of consciousness
in an endless cellular fabric of allness.
Laughing. Thank you, me.
And then, I must have been altogether gone. To the void and beyond!
About 6:30 am that familiar form, Sharon, popped back into existence.
After the briefest moment of physical relief, the realization,
not dead. Again.
Now, a year later, my human form feels like a dwelling I’m responsible for,
a shimmering opal in a material matrix,
embedded in some vast field of not me otherness,
in everything and nothing.
Not me pretending to be me.
Though how it happened for me evolved differently,
the answer, Bill, is,
Isn’t it fun to be in disguise?