Dear Sofia,
Yesterday you walked into my office, or as you call it, "the writing room." You walked right past the sign that you made that hangs on the door, "keep out, may get distracted."
Then, you sat at my desk, while I was reading on the couch, and you scribbled something and then push-pinned it onto my bulletin board.
The bulletin board, that sits to the right of my desk, leans up against the window that looks out onto the park. On it lives pictures and quotes that inspire me.
So I barely looked up when I heard you attach a new message. "What did you write?" I asked.
"I am the deadest in the world."
"What?" I sat up quickly, threw the book aside, and tried not to freak out. "What did you say?"
"I am the deadest in the world."
Focus, I thought to myself. Stay calm. I walked over to the board and, sure enough, on a long strip of white paper, pinned next to a picture of a waterfall in Costa Rica, you had written, "I am the dedist in the world."
"Are you saying that I am the deadest in the world or that you are?"
"I'm saying that you are. It's your board."
"Sofia, what do you mean by this?"
"Well," you explained, "you live in heaven. You know, how everything for you is wisdom and love and praying, so that means that you're dead. Not dead, dead, because you're here. But dead."
"I'm not following, Sofs."
"Is my Godfather dead?"
"Yes."
"Is he in heaven?"
"Yes."
"So, when a person is in heaven, they are dead. And you are always in heaven."
I had no idea what to say. I tried and failed miserably to disentangle this idea for you. I said things like, you can be in heaven here on earth. I'm not dead, I'm alive. Very much so.
I said all sorts of things but you kind of shrugged me off.
"Ma, everyone knows that when you die, that's when you get to heaven. So, if you're always in heaven, which you are, then you must be dead."
And then you left the writing room and you left me thinking.
Do we have to be dead to be in heaven?
There are so many people I see walking around and they are physically/technically alive but their souls/spirits/the light in their eyes is dead.
Especially these days, with people losing material things so quickly and getting lost in it. Could all these people think that if, inside, they die a little more each day, that then they will reach heaven sooner?
Do we really think we need to wait around in a sort of purgatory, waiting to die and then we will reach heaven?
This does not appeal to me.
So, for the record, Sofs, I believe that heaven and hell are here on earth.
And that every single day, we wake up and we get a very important choice: Will we live this day in joy, peace, and love? Or will we choose to live this day in fear, clinging and suffering?
My child, choose the former.
This is the Maya of heaven. Maya means illusion. And this is our illusion of heaven--- some far off dream land with virgins (I'll explain later) and harps and such, that can only be attained after we are physically dead.
Forget the harps and the virgins for a minute. Forget the angels and the fluffy white clouds; just think about happiness, and freedom and peace.
To find heaven here and now---we must be here and now. Not hoping for a future that is better.
We must be grateful for every single living thing around us even if it is not gilded or fluffy or flying around with white wings.
We must surrender to the river that is life.
Then, when the waters get rough or we find boulders in our path, we will allow ourselves to tumble past them, around them, no matter how disconcerting the topsy-turvy adventure is.
I remember the couple of times that I've gone whitewater rafting. This is the first safety lesson that they teach: if you fall out of the raft, just let yourself tumble, eventually you will be able to get your head above water. But if you hold onto a rock or a branch, you will get stuck and then the power of the rushing water will cover you, and you will not be able to catch air and you can drown.
This is the same as in life. If you surrender to the river, and tumble your way through the rough waters of difficult situations, eventually you will be able to lift your head and get air. But if you cling to the branches and boulders of the past, or of the loss, or of the disappointment, it is quite possible that you will not be able to catch air, and you will drown.
This is no way to reach heaven.
You brought up your Godfather.
Your Godfather, my love, reached heaven long before he was physically gone from us. He reached heaven by laughing often and making others laugh, by listening to music and by strumming his guitar and making music, by protecting the earth's water (he was ahead of his time) as a hydro-geologist and by loving everyone around him deeply and truly and passionately.
He taught me, and many of us, that to love this way means to bring heaven, here and now.
I am reminded of a quote that says, "Those who live passionately, teach us how to love. Those who love passionately teach us how to live." (Paramahansa Yogananda)
By loving passionately, we learn how to live. And your Godfather was a living example of that.
So don't get caught up in our cultural and religious myths and stories, about a heaven after death. It is simply how we console ourselves through loss.
Remember these stories, they can point us in the right direction, or they can make us get very lost.
Always, work hard to try and see through the stories and myths, to a greater truth.
There may well be a heaven in death, but I don't want to wait that long to find out.
Let us live in heaven, now, IN LIFE, as your Godfather did.
Ma
p.s. Yes, I will get distracted, but please do not keep out. I seem to learn the most when I am lucky enough to notice the distraction for what it is.
Really beautiful, My.
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'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
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