Comforting thoughts, and some Proof...

My friend Linda recently recommended a book to me. It's a book by a neurosurgeon named Eben Alexander. The book is called "Proof of Heaven." If you haven't heard of him or his book, do yourself a favor and look him up.  I did, and found this website and short video from a recent interview he did on a talk show.  
  
Watch the video, and listen - especially at the 3 minute mark. Keep that in mind when you wake up, when you decide how your are going spend your day; how you are going to spend your life.  


I can't remember the last time I flew through a book as quickly as I did this book.  It was around 170 pages, and I read it in one day.  I simply didn't want to put it down. I know the loss of my Dad just a year ago had a lot to do with my interest in the subject matter, but I'm telling you, the book was good, really good. 

Both the book, and the poem below give the same message...and they are comforting thoughts to me. I find comfort in thinking of my Dad, moving from this world to the next, and being greeted by so many others that loved him and made the journey before him. 

This book has helped my heart find some peace. Peace that I've been looking for. 

Thank you Linda.

What is dying?

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white clouds just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, "There! She's gone!"
"Gone where?"
"Gone from my sight, that's all".

She is just as large in mast and spar and hull as ever she was when she left my side; just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of her destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at that moment when someone at my side says, "There! She's gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying.

This poem has been credited to Bishop Charles Brent, but is also noted as a work of William Blake.