Dying Can Change Your Life — If You Stop Sleepwalking

Is it life changing when you almost die? For me it was an important starting point of a much longer process of transformation — NOT “improvement”. I am not a better person now. I’d like to believe I am better equipped to deal with life. That does not mean, I am the finished product. 

Dying Can Change Your Life — If You Stop Sleepwalking

So, is it life changing when you almost die? You’d think so but it entirely depends on how you react. I know because I (almost) died — five times to be exact. Four of these times would have been quick affairs: two near misses involving a car and I really mean “near” and instant death. Twice I almost drowned. That was different because you have the time to get scared and fight back — especially when you are on your own in the ocean.
Note to self: don’t go ocean swimming in stormy weather when the red flags are out and the lifeguards aren’t. Unfortunately, the subsequent thrill and gratitude of having survived didn’t last very long and the day-to-day quickly took over. The threat of a sudden death apparently did not cut it for me. It was different when I received my leukemia diagnosis followed by nine months of treatment which could have gone either way. Eleven years on I remain in remission. 

When Your Horizon Shrinks

Back then, it was sobering that my own shelf life (about six months without a bone-marrow transplant) could be shorter than some of the products I grabbed in the supermarket. As my horizon shrank, I started looking for at the past and even more so at the presence. 
That is what has changed: trying to be truly present. I am not talking about an esoteric experience but intentionally taking in what is happening around me. It starts with awareness, trying to let go of assumptions/judgment and subsequently to explore with curiosity how events or people impact me instead of just sleepwalking onwards.
My leukemia treatment was an important starting point of a much longer process of transformation. Please note, I am not saying “improvement”. I am not a better person now. I’d like to believe I am better equipped to deal with life. That does not mean, I am the finished product. And to be honest, I don’t want to have to go through that level of deconstruction again. It was raw, scary, painful and humiliating.

Transformation Is No Fun

I was utterly naked and felt emotionally flayed. Death was not even the scary bit. Sure, I wanted to live but I wasn’t scared as much. In my case, it was my faith in Christ. It may be something else for others. What was scary was the loss of control and a crippling fear of invasive procedures in hospital. But there was also my own biography and things creeping up on me. Cumulatively it brought me to a point where my existence was reduced to just me, no job, title, possessions, no energy for delusions of grandeur. But also no energy for self-doubt, self-judgment or even regrets. Perhaps that’s how I can best describe what I mean by “presence”.
The closest analogy I can come up with is Moses’s encounter with God. In order to survive God walking by, Moses had to cover his faith because no man would see God and live. That’s how it felt to me: nothing left between me and my God and that was terrifying. 
Over the next years, I have thought more about the following: Can there be purpose and deeper meaning in our lives when we remove everything that can be taken from us? This is not a rhetorical question. Every day people lose their possessions and loved ones, their jobs and other things which gave meaning to their lives. How do we go on when it’s all gone? I continue to explore that.
If you are curious, feel free to follow this space. I’ll post more.