Rest in ecstasy

Rest in Ecstasy

Rest in Ecstasy

From so many accounts that I have heard or read, the moment of dying is a piece of cake. It is a release of being cooped up inside the body and sprung into a state of extraordinary freedom. It’s like waking up from a dream. One moment you’re here, the next moment youre there.

Unless you’re steeped in spiritual literature, the idea probably sounds strange that dying can be considered so much fun. In most media it’s usually portrayed with much agony and sadness. In the minds of many it also ends consciousness. Those who cling to life often cling to the idea that flat-lining means oblivion.

Social media has of course given us more opportunities to hear the classic “Rest in Peace” or RIP. Whenever a celebrity dies I’ll often see the phrase copiously repeated in the feeds. When I see the phrase now, my brain overrides it with “Rest in Ecstasy.”

My own mom died 14 months ago and one of the visions I had of her shortly after she passed was of her as a younger woman dancing in the streets of heaven, ecstatic that she was done with her arthritis and her walker. That’s what I mean by Rest in Ecstasy.


I like to live my life and express myself in more simple terms. Sometimes they are so simple that I make up words to express myself. I think this is a great leftover skill from childhood.

Some people often perceive me as this mighty intellect, but I say nope to that. I do like to mull through complex thought puzzles at times, but I am not one to hang out too high on the abstraction ladder. Writer though I may be, I am not great at pontificating because I like to steer my ideas to simplicity.

Whoosh is a great example.

It’s a word I coined the other day to represent the sometimes intense blast of energy that I have felt while hugging people under special situations — and what they have felt when hugging me. It’s much more fun to call it whooshing then to strap it down for intellectual analysis of kundalini energy states and chakra alignment.

A couple of days ago I wrote this:

Sometimes words just won’t do.

Words are wonderful, full of zip, full of zap, but sometimes they just won’t do. Sometimes they don’t express what is going on deep inside.

Not like a whooshing hug does.

I am awakening from my year-long slumber like a bear from an extended hibernation holiday.

I want to hug someone and feel the force of it whooshing my heart out. (OMG, my whoosh feels like Yosemite Falls whooshing sideways!)

Then to feel the whoosh answered.

I want to feel her quiver in my arms, a whoosh generator like me.

We crave whooshing.

(What do you truly yearn for?)

When whoosh flows, all we feel is whoosh.

The outer world melts away — only whoosh is left.

Be here now.

Whoosh here now.