Lighten Up

Life happens. As part of life happening, death happens. My philosophy recognizes death as a transition, a shift from one phase of existence to the next. A shedding of the mortal coil, if you will, that frees the eternal essence of an individual from its compostable container and returns it to the great beyond—wherever that is and whatever that looks like. Death is part of life.

I have spent the last number of years learning about—and testing the principles of—universal physics, the energy of spirit, the power of intention, the strength in love and liberty in forgiveness, about the collective consciousness, our connection to each other, and to the greater source known as, well, whatever name one chooses to give it. My education may have started in Sunday school with Jesus Christ, but my adult post-secondary education was renewed by Dr. Wayne Dyer.

The late Dr. Wayne Dyer. I came home last Sunday afternoon to meet a stricken Ter in the hallway. “What is it?” I asked, instantly on edge.

“Dr. Wayne passed away last night.”

“What? What?” I followed her to the Ocean Room, repeating in disbelief. “What? What?”

She had checked into his F***book page and seen the message, posted by his family a mere forty-five minutes earlier. Once rated as the third most spiritual person in the world, he had quite simply and without warning, gone out—taking a gazillion-watt light with him.

The sense of loss was expected. The disorientation, however, was alarming. That odd sense of being cast adrift, as if he was the force that kept my world balanced and my spirit in alignment, was disconcerting. My faith in the Universe and the natural order of things, in his teachings and advice and humour, were forgotten in the immediate, terribly mortal panic of what do we do now?

I thought about it for a couple of days, between shedding tears and prepping for Saltspring Island. Dr. Wayne was religious, but not a religion. He was a light being who shared the lessons he learned, just like the other great teachers throughout history—the Buddah, Mohammed, Ghandi, and yes, the original guru himself, Jesus Christ. Whatever else these men may have been, they were teachers above all, healing broken souls through the universal message of love.

And make no mistake. Wisdom is not restricted to what’s in the vault. Great teachers live among us now. Through Dr. Wayne, Ter and I were led to others like him—Thich Nhat Hanh, Mira Kelley, Professor Ekkles, Denise Linn. We’ve learned about intention and attitude, feng shui and past lives, the interplay of mind/body/spirit, the singularity of present moment, the importance of gratitude—principles preached by the ancient masters that are more relevant today than they were back then.

When a teacher dies, it’s time for the students to quit learning and start applying. What do we do without Dr. Wayne? We remember what he taught us, we go forward, we continue to seek knowledge and change ourselves for the better, to grow strong and lend support, to Throw Our Beams in a world of jagged contrast.

Just as he did.

With love,