I. The End is Only the Beginning

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I collapse onto the grass, feigning my heroic demise with exaggerated cinematic flair. I act out my tragic death by slowly falling to my bare knees, which show through the tattered holes of my Levi’s. Then, with both hands still over the imaginary abdominal wound inflicted upon me by one of my neighbors, I topple onto my side, complete with sound effects: 

 

Kushhhhh! Oooooooooooooh! 

 

My body violently convulses in a few final, desperate spasms before becoming totally still, gloriously moribund. 

 

All this unfolded on the freshly mowed battlefield in front of my family’s suburban home. The rules of the game were simple: once shot, you had to remain silent and still, lying on the ground until someone on your team released you—that is, gave you life again by ceremoniously kneeling next to you, holding their palms face-down above your head, and reciting the words: You are free! Rise, oh great warrior!

 

We boys had played this game hundreds of times using various projectiles to keep it interesting—sometimes darts; sometimes just the acorns that had fallen from the tall oaks that lined our street. Other times, when it was hot outside, the weapon of choice was water balloons or “water weenies”—surgical rubber tubing tied at one end with a detachable ballpoint pen top at the other for precisely squirting your opponent from a safe distance. Those with water weenies were ruthless against their enemies, but were also vulnerable when refilling them at whichever neighbor’s garden faucet wasn’t currently being occupied. 

 

In spite of the varying modes of weaponry, the rules never changed. The name of the game was to take out as many of the other team’s members as possible so that there would be no one to release them from their deep, dark sleep. This required that each team develop a strategy. We would work together to distract the other team so that any of our dead could be quickly revived and rejoined.

 

After simulating my awful, ghoulish end, I lie on the ground with my eyes shut. Normally, I would have one open and one closed, carefully avoiding the wrath of my capturers while pleading for a team mate nearby to release me. However, this time is different. Perhaps it was something I ate or had seen on TV the night before that shifted my consciousness at that moment and triggered an experience so profound that it would forever change the direction of my life.

 

Back then, I had a knack for joking around, often drawing inspiration from popular movies, TV shows, cartoons and magazines. I was a bit of a clown, you could say, always pretending to be some super hero or well-known protagonist, much to my friends’ amusement. When I was in character (which was often), I was totally focused, almost as if possessed. I could spend hours acting out the role of The Incredible Hulk, The Six Million Dollar Man, or Caine from the Kung Fu series, always looking for supporting actors who would play along in my parody. So, it was natural for me to play out my last standing moments, amongst the flowering jasmine and bougainvillea, with style, right up to my “death.” 

 

Lying on the cool grass, I begin to wonder, “How far can I fake my own death?” I imagine that I really have been shot in the gut and that my life-force is quickly running out. But what happens next isn’t in the script. 

 

All of a sudden, everything just goes dark, time seems to stop, and I immediately fall into a kind of strange “hypnosis” (for lack of a better term). I am thinking, Death has really come. I’ve taken it too far this time. This is it. I’m a goner. But at the same time, I am curious to know, what exactly is it that’s dying? 

 

Consciousness slips away from my body and I am now looking down from above. I can see that the body, in reality, is just an empty vessel and that I’m not—nor ever have been—it. I briefly ponder why I ever became so attached to it in the first place. I now realize that the body perishes, but the spirit, or “I,” transcends it and remains untouchable. 

 

Consequently, I now know with all certainty: I am the immortal spirit. Thoughts may come and go, but the actual “I” remains like the ocean, in spite of the waves. The whole experience is impersonal and yet, it’s as if something is trying to show me something. 

 

Next, there is a stillness I have never felt before. There are no thoughts except the one thought of being a witness to this amazing experience. It is an indescribable peace undisturbed by the usual inner chatter. It’s like that moment when your neighbor’s loud, pounding music suddenly stops, and for a fraction of a second—before anything else can fill the void—a certain clarity shines through. I am now that clarity and in a state of total bliss. A holy silence encapsulates me.

 

“Get up!” yells my best friend Nick, nudging me with his bare foot. Suddenly, my buddy remembers the protocol and kneels next to me with palms over my head, reciting: “You are free! Rise, oh great warrior!” But I am oblivious to Nick and his help. 

 

“Come on, Vic, we need to get the hell out of here before those dickheads come back!”

 

Still no movement. 

 

“Get up, doofus!” Nick starts kicking me in the butt when I suddenly snap out of my meditative state and emerge back to life. 

 

I feel as if I had just awakened from a very deep slumber. The experience leaves me strangely rested and with an incredible sense of calm and fresh re-entry into the world. 

 

“Let’s go, Vic. They’re coming…Run!!!” 

 

But instead, I just slowly sit up and look around, a bit dumbfounded. Nick runs away as the other team begins to close in. 

 

“Dude, I shot you again! Die sucker! Stay down you pussy!” disparages the other side. 

 

But I just sit there half-way seated as if I had just had a pleasant nap, indifferent to all the chaos. Not getting a reaction from me, the enemy moves on, leaving me by myself once again. 

 

I remain seated there for some time, perhaps an hour, long after the rest of the kids decide to go inside to grab popsicles and play a few rounds of Pong. 

 

As I sit, recovering from what just happened, the world around has a clarity I’ve never noticed before. Every sense is heightened, every detail impossibly vivid. The sharp, sweet scent of the freshly cut lawn fills the air with each emerald blade catching the sunlight like tiny shards of glass. The warmth of the sun hugs me, not just touching my skin, but sinking deep into my bones—as if I am part of it, as if it is part of me. Above, the sky stretches into a blue so deep, so endless, that I suddenly understand it’s infinity itself. 

 

I have just died to the body, yet I have never felt more alive. There is no fear. Nothing to hold onto, and nothing to resist. Only this—this perfect moment, in a world more vibrant than I ever knew it could be.

 

As a result, I become aware of how the body breathes, the blood flows, and thoughts arise, all without any of my doing. These processes, which I had always taken for granted, simply happen, guided by some unseen, mysterious force. It is as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a truth I had always known but never recognized. 

 

The boundaries dissolve, and for a fleeting, boundless moment, I am the perceiver, the perceiving, and the perceived—one and the same.

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Continue to Part II: Adjusting

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