The door is opening.
That dream image was how I started my first substack post.
The next day, the significance of the image struck me: the door that is opening is The Door of Death. I’ve heard this term usually in relation to Rudolf Steiner’s work, or Greek mythology, or, more recently, from the Norwegian healer, veterinarian and clairvoyant, Are Thoresen. The Door of Death is a way of initiation.
We will all go through this door, and some, a very few, are able to go through, or at least get a peek, and come back and tell us something about the other side.
The Call to the Far Shore, and this substack, is an invitation to notice the door, dare to be interested in it, and just maybe get an inkling about the gifts of wisdom that come from becoming more conscious about the passage through it.
It was helpful for me to go back to ancient Greek times and be reminded of our western mythological roots. Here, the door of death is considered a portal to the underworld.
In the rich tapestry of Greek mythology, Thanatos is the embodiment of death. Interestingly, Thanatos is a son of Nyx (the goddess of night), and his twin brother is Hypnos (the god of sleep). The connection between death and sleep couldn’t be made more clearly—a theme taken up by Goethe, Shakespeare, and Steinbeck: “Death was a friend, and sleep was Death’s brother” (Grapes of Wrath). And, some sources maintain that Ares, the god of war is also a brother.
In this interwoven family, Thanatos is often described as gentle and peaceful. His touch can be tender, providing a peaceful transition for those whose time on Earth comes to an end. While his brother Hypnos brings respite from pain and sorrow through sleep, Thanatos alleviates suffering through the finality of death. Though their domains may differ, these twin deities share a similar purpose: to offer solace to mortals, to remind us of the interconnected web of life and death.
Thanatos ensures that those souls, whose time has come, reach the Underworld by personally escorting them. Then it was the god Hermes who would guide them through the Underworld and to their final resting place.
These resonant pictures, and countless others from wisdom and indigenous cultures, still live somewhere in our psyche, and we can turn to them to add a more nuanced picture to the more typically fearful associations with death.
The words the door is opening now means far more than my initial thinking that this is about a book being published and the start of a substack. It’s declaring that now is the time when there is a momentum building, in ourselves and in this culture, to approach this threshold with more clarity and assurance. Not recklessly, not without humility. For, as with all portals, a guardian—whether a Greek god or another—stands watch. Our preparations matter.
And why, might one ask, would one want to approach?
Ah, because the ways of initiation are wise. And really there’s no other choice. Either we do so consciously, or we’ll be taken there, often when least expected.
I’m going outside these starry nights. Gazing with awe and wonder, I find myself uttering a simple prayer:
Silent winter night, teach me what in me is passing away and dying.
And what is being born.
Art credit: Night Sky by Elena Hurley
Thankyou friends and acquaintances for the keen interest in the start of this substack newsletter.
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Pre-orders of The Call to the Far Shore: Carrying Our Loved Ones Through Dying, Death, and Beyond are now available through your local bookstore, Amazon, and most major booksellers.
https://www.amazon.ca/Call-Far-Shore-Carrying-through/dp/B0D9TMVNL9
From the Foreward by Robert Sardello:
…Dive into the ocean-like depth of this writing … To read this book is to invite radical change, both personal change and changes in the lives of those around you… for these stories will increase the depth of your being.