January 7th, 2024

I dreamed of a woman being beaten to death by a man with a crowbar last night. The dream took place in a strange home that I had never seen before. She was hidden behind a couch from my omniscient point of view, but I knew that she was unable to move or defend herself. As the man wound up to strike her with the long metal bar, she kept saying, “Here I go. Here I go. Here I go,” preparing herself to die. The man struck her over and over, each time angling his body to hit her with maximum impact. My invisible presence in the room felt as though I was made to watch, yet powerless to intervene. Her repetitions of “Here I go” stopped and were replaced by moans only uttered when we are faced with the fragility of our flesh. I awoke disturbed. 

The statement “Here I go” is as unsettling as it is enlightening. If one were to die a good death in a bed, surrounded by family and well taken care of, “Here I go” at the moment the spirit leaves the body becomes something beautiful and offers a sense of comfort to those around you. It communicates a departure from the physical vessel and an entrance into the afterlife. The statement is also a paradox. It indicates that you are here and will remain here, yet you are also going somewhere else. When one dies a violent death in which there is an element of anticipation or loss of control to an aggressor, “Here I go” becomes the ultimate self-soothing statement in a moment of unprecedented suffering. For the person saying it—before being beaten to death, hanged, or beheaded—it forces a confrontation with any skepticism they may have about what happens when we leave our bodies. All that is left is to prepare for something that we hope or know exists. Our faith is at its strongest at the moment of death. 

I couldn’t understand the man’s lack of humanity as this woman lay helpless on the floor. She did not beg, scream, or cry for her life. She accepted what was to come and that is almost more heartbreaking. Perhaps it was the quietness of a death so violent that was unsettling. 

It’s difficult to reconcile my beliefs about karma with violent deaths. I believe it to be true that each living being is on a specific path that mandates several incarnations that end when the soul achieves a level of perfect omniscience. Each individual incarnation, whether we like it or not, comes to an end when the soul has fulfilled that incarnation’s prophecy. When I say prophecy, I do not exclusively mean becoming king, leading a religious movement, or any other cliché achievement. The soul has programmed subtle energies that are worked through using our thoughts, feelings, and actions in physical existence. Our lives end exactly as they are supposed to, regardless of their possible violent nature. This belief is easy to conceptualize from a removed perspective, but it feels like a fundamental design flaw that we ail so much in the face of our suffering and that of others. I talked to a Tibetan Buddhist monk about the dream, and he expressed that violence and my disturbed reaction are not design flaws at all. They are opportunities to transform our relationship with suffering into action, or good karma. While suffering is not something we often seek, how we respond to its presence shapes our spiritual growth. If you have been through the caverns of Hell, those emotions are a gift and an opportunity for change. It’s a matter of twisting them to your benefit. 

Witnessing a death so brutal in dream form and the comfort of a removed point of view allow me to think freely and philosophically about these things. Though this may be a privileged perspective, my hope is that you will look through a compassionate lens at your own suffering and take concrete action to alleviate the suffering of others. Being incessantly inundated with violence through media that distances us from very real torment has dampened our emotional response and made us apathetic, complacent, and feeling undeserving of looking at our own suffering as a valid experience. I call on you to reconnect with the immense pain and grief that lives inside your body and reframe it from helpless victimhood into the unrelenting need to be in service to others experiencing the same anguish. 

Each of us will one day feel the essence of “Here I go” as we leave our bodies. We do not have to wait until death to embrace its meaning. It is the ultimate statement of surrender, and it is only when we submit that we find the opportunity to transform our relationship with our suffering into one of wisdom and service. Have the courage to lift yourself out of your “unique” pain and grief, proclaim “Here I go,” and use the visceral feelings of your own agony to help someone feel less alone in theirs. 

January 22nd, 2025

Grief has been one of the hardest and most beautiful things I have experienced in this earthly life. No one could have prepared me for the ways in which losing my dad would radically change me for the better. The sorrow I felt in his physical absence has become the meeting point of sadness and joy. I experience both simultaneously—mourning our lost time together while celebrating the miracle his life was and his consciousness continues to be.