Category: Immortality

“On Death” by Michele Plumb Stowell (1966-2021) Compiled by Nyasha Stowell from her Mom’s Notes

Yet as the mind experiences a sense of loss, the only thing I want for you is the resonance of great love . . . true love . . . evolved, altruistic, blissful and ecstatic love! I love you!

Now I have died- first know, it was just my body! I will always be near, loving you with even greater completeness. I will always be there to help with your sad moments, to assist with strength, when all seems lost. Right next to you. Not even a molecule of distance.

I will also be around when all is wonderful, happy, and filled with laughter, because I love the laughter!

If you want to honor me, I would suggest:

Watching a sunset.

Sunset behind the mountain

Cooking for someone.

Visiting a beach.

Giving food to the food bank.

Sorting out what you no longer need.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Reading the Tiffany series (Terry Pratchett).

Creating a dream catcher with an open center.

A woman holding a dreamcatcher

Moments of communion

Visiting the earth sanctuary.

Eating incredible Creme Brulee.

Walking, noticing the breeze.

Photo by Dmitriy Ganin on Pexels.com

Seeking your inner Truth.

Each person in my world deserves dedicated pages of gratitude. I don’t want that left unsaid. I am soooooo grateful for the experiences we have shared!

I am so in love with the moments of hell and the moments of heaven. If I had a magic wand, I would wave it over you so that the realization of that love could always be with you. Each person and each experience. So valuable. Although I’ve really enjoyed all of the crazy gatherings, the moments that pop out are ones of communion. I’m not talking about moments in church, but the greater experiences of connection: the tears when speaking about transitions in our lives, the quiet contemplation in a shared space, the lightning storm on the hillside.

Thank you. Thank you for being amazing. Thank you for showing and sharing your true self here and there. Thank you for being in my life!

I know that we cannot be separated by something as paltry as death. Yet as the mind experiences a sense of loss, the only thing I want for you is the resonance of great love . . . true love . . . evolved, altruistic, blissful and ecstatic love! I love you! The end (or is it just the beginning?)

43. There Is No Death

There is no death. We came from the Source, landed here as babies so tied to God that we knew we are elements of God. We forget. But remerge, by choice or by chance in life. And certainly in death.

I feel like I may be retelling stories.  I am going to accept that and do it, because there is some reason that stories come up again.

In the Elisabeth Kubler-Ross books, she sites endless experiences of the perceptions of those who have died and returned.  People, on the whole, see light and beauty and loved ones.  Many get depressed when they return to this mundane world.  

At Elizabeth Ann Seton Parish, a lady bishop was speaking the sermon.  She had a new baby at home, and her eldest was three.  The older daughter kept begging and begging to be alone with the infant.  Curious.  Fear provoking.  Why?  The family set up the baby camera and monitors for safety.

The three year old was given her opportunity.  She went in and was talking sweetly to the newborn.  She asked/begged the baby, “Remind me what it is like, I am beginning to forget.”

I have tears in typing that, because children can bring heaven to earth.  They remind us to trust, love and enjoy the small things.  They are so close to God.  Many remember.  And they realize that we have separated and often have no skills for reconnecting.  

Actually everyone has skills.  Everyone reconnects. We feel a crazy bliss state run through the body and mind.  A breath during sunset.  A kiss.  Chasing a laughing toddler.  But we forget.  We can remember.  

There is no death.  We came from the Source, landed here as babies so tied to God that we knew we are elements of God.  We forget.  But remerge, by choice or by chance in life.  And certainly in death.