“In the religious and mythic imagination, death and metaphorical death are essential to spiritual life and to the soul. Mythologies from monotheistic— Jonah and the Whale, Joseph in the Well, Jesus in the Tomb— to polytheistic Greek— The Odyssey— are filled with deaths, near deaths, descents, visits to the Land of Dead and to death’s door as well as with reincarnations, reappearances, rebirths, and resurrections of gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines. These spectacles are not to be taken literally but as metaphors for the soul’s fantastical adventure through this wonder of a life. These metaphorical deaths are of the ego—my limited understanding; my self-centeredness; my encrusted views; my tight heart; my and mine; mine, all mine— and rebirths are of true life, authentic life, new insight. For the soul and spirt to flourish, the ego must be tamed, demoted, bypassed, even honored as well as seen and seen through, symbolically slayed like the dragons and ogres of old.”
A portion of the painting Portrait of a man, with a labyrinth design on his chest, by Bartolomeo Veneto, Italy, early 16th century.
My Method
Most of us, at some point in life, desire to take especially dramatic and drastic action—to be more of who we are and follow our life’s vision.
In my workshops and mentoring, I use a distinctive method that combines ideas and techniques inspired by mythology, rites of passage, the world’s religions —creating an individualized modern rite of passage.
I crafted this approach from extensive study of myths, rites, psychology, spirituality, and religion, as well as from life experience— including executing a rite of passage on myself that led to my own transformative experience.
The most prominent and radical ideas in this method are death and rebirth.
Dancing Sufi dervishes, by Kamāl ud-Dīn Behzād (c. 1480/1490)
Death and rebirth are fundamental metaphors, emotions, and motivators of the life of the soul. Unfortunately, Death comes first. And Death is deep.
In the religious, spiritual, mythological, and depth psychological traditions of the world, in most basic terms, death is metaphorical of the death of the ego: not the ego being forever ended but repeatedly tamed. Sacrifice of the ego is essential, even sacred. A mystery of sacrificing the ego is that deeper insight and compassion may be born in us and then through us circulated into our culture for a truer view of the way things are and how to care for each other.
The most basic result and goal of ego taming is compassion towards neighbors, friends, and family. A tougher level of ego training might be phrased, care for the stranger. Finally, the deepest surrender of the ego and therefore, widest opening of the heart and mind leads to love your enemies, the most difficult feat of all.
Even with an enemy, as we look across the battle or political or marital scene and believe our cause just, we can see that she sees her cause as just as well, however deluded we believe she be. Is she deceiving herself? Are we fooling ourselves, instead? Are we often all mistaken: locked inside our limiting, little minds?
Can we see the humanity of an adversary? Looking deeper, can we even recognize the sacredness of an antagonist? Can we slay our partisan, partial views and/or long-held opinions, at least for a time, to experience events through our opponents’ eyes? Can we discipline our ego to be as objective as possible as we analyze any perspective from friend, foe, or nonpartisan alike?
Facing the facts about an enemy or our entrenched beliefs on any subject at all may cause us to shudder before truths we would rather not admit: the wrenching regret of self-deception and faint-heartedness as well as the death throes and birth pangs of letting go of an old view to gain a fresh insight.
These reflections happen deep within our own mind and heart. Then, there is bringing them to the surface and speaking up and out while knowing this could kill our career and/or social standing. We could have our character assassinated or get crucified on X. Even imagining the risk rachets up the anxiety: a word that comes from a root meaning strangle, choke, suffocate.
Facing truth is daunting enough. Sharing a truth might be the death of us. However, we might be sacrificing for our marriage, our community, our country to express a reality or do a deed that needs to be known or done. “You can’t handle the truth.” The truth will kill you. The truth won’t kill you. The truth will set you free.
And death is deep: both the mystery of literal death and of the metaphorical death of the ego. Repetitively smothering the ego so we can think freely develops an ability to perceive and live the Unity of Opposites, a main aim of the mystical traditions of the world- Tantric Hinduism and Buddhism, Zen, Sufism, and Taoism among others. The Unity of Opposites is a pattern in the indigenous mythologies of the world as well. The Unity of Opposites is most famously represented by the iconic Taoist Yin-yang symbol where the opposite colors, black and white, curl around each other and a circle of each color is in the heart of the other color: unifying the opposites.
One of the most vital pair of opposites to unify is life and death. Life and death dynamically interpenetrate each other: no life without death, no death without life. Creatures are constantly killed so that others, including humans, may live. When we witness the spectacle of a predator stalk and kill prey most of us see death, but this is life—for without the sacrifice prey offer, predators perish. This is life—every being feeding on the body of another.
Cultures know that all must sacrifice (same root as sacred), some with their lives, so the community thrives. In battle, soldiers hazard death to protect life and to seize land to live off. In childbirth, women risk death–regularly before modern medicine–to deliver life. This is why Norse mythology held that women who die in childbirth, like warriors who die in battle, journey to the highest paradise. These ultimate sacrifices are held in utmost esteem. People must be willing to die so that The People may live
Many cultures have sacrificed animals, plants, and even humans in rituals (and in aboriginal cultures the hunt and the harvest are rituals) with the assurance that through these deaths life is continually sustained, revitalized, reincarnated. And it certainly is— through the physical nourishment of eating which allows creatures to resurrect each day, through birth that incarnates new life, and through the spiritual food these offerings provide.
Christians should recognize these rites, believing the Father sacrificed his Son on the Cross to give mankind eternal life and through the faithful participating in Holy Communion–eating the Flesh and drinking the Blood of the Savior–the spirit is born anew each time in Christ. And in Christian doctrine, Christ’s death and resurrection generate eternal life. The crucial symbol of Christian life, of eternal life is the Cross—the means of Jesus’ death. And the Cross is a symbol of the pairs of opposites; the vertical and horizontal timbers, heaven and earth, joined at Jesus’ heart.
In addition, in the religious and mythic imagination, death is essential to spiritual life and to the soul. Mythologies from monotheistic–Jonah and the Whale, Joseph in the Well, Jesus in the Tomb–to polytheistic Greek, The Odyssey, are filled with deaths, near deaths, descents, visits to the Land of the Dead and to death’s door as well as with reincarnations, reappearances, and resurrections of gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines. These metaphorical deaths are of the ego—my limited understanding; my self-centeredness; my encrusted views; my tight heart; my and mine; mine, all mine—and rebirths are of true life, authentic life, new insight. For the soul and spirit to flourish, the ego must be tamed, demoted, bypassed: symbolically slayed like the dragons and ogres of old.
Ego, fears, and death run together, a notorious pack, yet needing our love and understanding even admiration, for they play important roles in our life. The ego fears, which protects us from literal death and metaphorical deaths like a firing from making a living. But fear keeps us from life, like not saying what needs to be said in a decisive family situation or not sacrificing to fight the Man for the good of all: the fear of social rejection or attack. Ego keeps us alive and he kills us. Death is the great fear. Panic feels like dying. Anxiety and fear are interchangeable feelings, words. Anxiety saves us from literal and metaphorical deaths but also from fully living. Anxieties asphyxiate and preserve us.
Life is filled with death—of parents, of pets, of friends, of children—and metaphorical deaths—of marriages, of dreams, of innocence, of physical powers—which the soul grieves and from which we may learn about life, if we are open. This insight reveals we die daily and still live and through death are initiated into mysteries of life. As well, all lives need pruning of dead wood for their own good, to bloom.
We have all heard tales of the power of near-death experiences. With the trivialities of life now pale in comparison, the old superficiality sloughs off like a snake’s skin. A new awareness arrives; a woman transformed. A man’s midlife crisis starts when he feels his powers fading, burdened with the corpse of a life. And on the far side of the “full catastrophe” with effort, insight, and luck, he is delivered a new life.
Metaphorically, forgiveness could be the burying of a grudge on which grow green shoots. Death is metaphorical for leaving the old you behind. If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him–for every one of us a Buddha laboring to be born. Meditation on death is a not uncommon religious exercise; for instance, the Buddhist emphasis on contemplating impermanence for insight and to ease the fear and pain of loss and death.
And nothing really dies. An Indian chief said, “There is no death, only a change of worlds.” The Talking Snake in the Garden would agree prophesying “the soul does not die; it is eternal.”
From another view, there is no death only a change in forms. For here, Fox outwits Rabbit and eats to hunt another day. Yet, there is no outfoxing Death for ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Fox’s carcass fertilizes a red rose bush. And the red rose is preyed upon by a caterpillar that transforms into a butterfly, eaten by a red winged blackbird, and on and on and on till the end of time, which never ends. The curtain never comes down on life’s rich spectacle; the show goes on.
As well, rites of passage, vitally important in indigenous cultures, contain rituals symbolizing the death and rebirth of life stages and/or the birth of a fresh or refined life vision. In initiation into adulthood, often harrowing rituals simulate the death of the child and resurrection as an adult. The child is sacrificed so that an adult is born who then sacrifices her ego for the good of her people. In a vision quest, the Powers of life provide a vision for the life of the quester who then circulates spiritual energy into his tribe, renewing the soul of the people. Nothing is born without first dying.
The “vision quest” rite of passage I created for myself and you can create for yourself, at least to the extent possible and practical for a modern American man inelegantly executing it on himself, and share about in the first part of this book was designed to put the ego to death and let the soul, conscience, and freer thinking step out from the ego’s shadow, blossoming the life vision that had been budding for years.