The fear of dying is quite common, and most people state that the thought of dying is scary, at least to some degree. Some reports indicate women fear death more than men, and others argue younger people fear death over the elderly. It’s not something we talk about at a cocktail party or having coffee with friends. “Oh, hello, nice to see you. Are you afraid of dying?” I doubt very many people have this conversation unless, of course, they have to. Most people tend to fear pain, and since death destroys the body, they assume it must be painful. The fact that we have no control over it can also be frightening. The fear of leaving our loved ones behind, the loss, and separation are often too unpleasant to think about.
However, near-death experiences seem to contradict the notion that dying might be a terrible experience. A near-death experience (NDE) can be described as a deep and overpowering occurrence associated with death or near-death, which has been reported widely across time and cultures. One study suggests that about 10% of the population have had these experiences, most describing them as pleasant, glorious, and even transformational. Feelings of tranquility and serenity are often used to describe NDE. Vivid imagery, visions from the past, and ‘out-of-body experiences’ are also characterized in an NDE.
I believe I had an NDE when I was a young woman living in India. It was late August. The humid southwest summer monsoon was in full swing. It had rained for weeks. The land around the small hut I had rented was saturated, creating pools of water everywhere—an excellent breeding ground for mosquitoes. It was also hot, even at night. Sometimes, when I first went to bed, I’d leave an opening in the mosquito netting over my bed to let in a bit of fresh air (if you could call it that).
One morning, I didn’t get out of bed. I ached all over. I felt tired and sick to my stomach. I thought I had some kind of bug, so I drank some water and took it easy. The next day, I got chills and ran a fever. Oh boy, I thought. It’s probably the flu. I drank more water and slept. The next day, I felt hot all over. My head throbbed and pounded. After that, each day progressively worsened. I forgot where I was. I couldn’t talk. I didn’t know when it was morning or night. I didn’t eat. I lost my sense of time and space.
Days passed. I went in and out of consciousness. At one point, I think it was late afternoon or maybe early evening, I felt myself leave my body, hovering above and looking down. I saw that my eyes were closed. There were a few people around me. One placed a wet cloth over my forehead. They were talking. I couldn’t hear them. Then, a luminous light and an incredible feeling of well-being flooded my mind, senses, and everything I knew to be me. I’ve tried to find the best words over the years, but even now, I fall short.
That night, my fever broke. When I was well enough to sit up, drink some tea, and talk again, I was told I had malaria and had spent almost two weeks in a feverish state. The days following my recovery were remarkable. The world around me seemed brighter and sunnier. It was like everything was on steroids. The wild, red roses emanating a fruity and slightly spicy scent were unusually red. The fireflies looked like little lanterns lighting up the evening sky. The spices in my chai seemed tastier than I’d ever remembered.
If you read my blog from 9/10/24, My Last Year, you know I decided to spend this year living it as if it were my last. It’s not really about dying, per se, but an opportunity to truly put an end to my denial of death and, in so doing, renew my resolve to live each moment as fully as I can. So, as I contemplate death in my year-to-live experiment, I am reminded to let go of the confusion reflected in my concepts about death, and if, in my final moments, death is anything like NDE, I have nothing to worry about.
“The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one begins and where the other ends?” Edgar Allen Poe
Enjoy the Passage of Time.
Sharon
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