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Excerpt from Terry's new book - coming early 2014

What About Death?

Surely this is a real problem that we should all fear?
There is no death as such. There is just a transformation from one form to another. In fact; death is something to look forward to, as it represents a graduation from this heavy, illusionary, three-dimensional world into the lighter, multi-dimensional, more Real world.

Death is just like going to sleep at night. There is not a single human being on this planet that does not cherish the deep sleep state. Therefore, although life is to be enjoyed, death should be longingly awaited. The only real difference between death and sleep is that you don’t return to the body in the morning.

In the Eastern traditions, sleep is called the ‘little death.’ Most people who have had near death experiences say that it was so wonderful that they didn’t want to come back. There is a much more enlightened approach to death in the East; their firm belief in reincarnation affords them the peace of mind that life is eternal, enabling them to enjoy this transition without the threat of oblivion. In fact, in Hinduism, they celebrate the passing of a loved one by chanting and dancing as the body is carried to the burning gatts.


Burning Body on My Beach

I witnessed this one morning from the ledge outside my cave. I was awoken by a strange smell and the sound of singing. I peered out onto my private beach and saw a whole bunch of people dancing and celebrating as if it was someone’s birthday.

I was about to chase them away, when the reality of the scene sobered me up. The sickly smell was, in fact burning flesh. A party of about twenty mourners had set up a funeral pyre on the banks of the Ganges, a few meters from my cave. The fire was raging and the mourners were dancing around the burning body. It was difficult to tell if their chants were cries of joy or sorrow. I just sat and watched, totally transfixed. After a few hours, the relatives and friends dispersed, leaving one man to tend the fire.

He sat quietly on a rock, occasionally stoking the diminishing flames. Every now and then, you could hear a pop and some body part would fall out. He would nonchalantly push the charred appendage back into the flames with the stick he had been drawing in the sand with. When the flames had eventually burnt out, the body was indistinguishable from the wood ash. I saw the man scoop the ashes into his hands and throw them into the Ganges. He then brushed the remains of his relative off his clothing and walked off into the silent night. Just another day in India.



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