Death is a topic that occupies every one of us, but at the same time it is something we rarely take the time to really think about. We tend to turn away from the thought of death because it stirs a deep fear in us, basically a fear of the great unknown.

But this evening, we do not want to see death as an ending. We want to see it from the perspective of the soul, which does not see an end but a continuation, a new movement in the same stream of life we are already living in now. Throughout history, people have tried to understand the significant moments that follow the last breath of a human being’s life on earth.

People of the past were aware that what we call death is not a destruction or an end, but a transformation, a change in the form of consciousness. The Egyptians called this process “the way of the Ba”, the way of the soul. In The Egyptian Book of the Dead, it is described how, after leaving the body, the soul passes through different halls of trial where the heart is weighed against the feather of truth. Anything false, anything heavy, has to be reckoned with.

Only what is feather-light and in pure balance with the breath of the Eternal Spirit can continue.

The Tibetans spoke of the same mystery, but they used other imagery. They talked about bardo, the states in between. In The Tibetan Book of the Dead, it is explained that after our body has come to its final rest, our consciousness continues, moving through different layers of light.

The first lights are bright, and for most people they are too blinding to behold directly and fully, because what we see is our own Divine Nature, what we could call the spirit spark. According to the Tibetan tradition, if we recognise this light as our true home, we will merge with it at first glance and return immediately to the source of all light in one great embrace. Then no further journey is needed.

But in most cases, the soul is not able to stand the bright light of the spirit, as it shines like a thousand suns. Most souls therefore shy away from the divine brightness and turn toward the dimmer lights of the lower nature, toward the lights that feel familiar because they belong to the earthly realm. With this association, a new journey, a new incarnation, is brought into motion.

So far according to the Tibetan tradition.

The understanding that life continues after death is not only found in the East. We also find many expressions of similar journeys in our Western tradition. We could, for example, mention the Greek myths of Hades and Ulysses, but we also see this theme recurring closer to our own era.

Dante Alighieri, in The Divine Comedy, describes poetically that there is a journey that takes place through three realms, through hell, through purgatory, and through paradise.

The story of Dante is the story of the journey of the soul. Inferno shows the soul in a state of confusion. In the furnaces of inferno, the soul is trapped in its cycles of desire and the toll of their consequences.

Purgatorio is the realm where purification takes place. It shows the soul gradually letting go of what binds it. Purgatory is not a punishment, but a place of healing where the soul steps closer and closer toward clear air, while deep love gains strength as the soul rises.

In Paradiso, the soul no longer experiences the light as something far away. Paradise itself is the love-substance of all existence, with which the soul fully merges.

Dante writes poetically, “My will and my desire became one with the Love that moves the sun and the other stars.”

With these words, he shows us that the highest destiny of the soul is to be united with the divine stream from which all life comes, the eternal Love.

Goethe’s Faust echoes the same theme in a later time. Faust is a typical seeker. He looks deeply into all aspects of knowledge, power, and experience. He tries to understand the mystery of life through the brilliance of his own mind and will.

But in his seeking, he comes to meet his Mephistopheles, his darkness, the human part that emerges when it desires to control and to possess. This part channels divine light into selfish and often destructive objectives.

The experiences that arise from this attitude always result in pain and failure, so Faust finally learns that true freedom does not come from knowledge, but from surrender. Eventually, he is lifted up not by what he has come to know, but by love itself. He finds in love a grace that is even stronger than death.

So whether we look to the East or to the West, we find the same truth that the wise have always expressed, that death is not an end, but a veil. Their universal agreement has always been that the soul must pass through a cleansing process before it can carry its original light in complete fullness again.

From ancient times to this day, the same story is told in many different words, with a knowledge that lies beyond vocabulary. Our souls have never truly forgotten it, and hearing about this journey tends to make deep sense to us.

So what is this story really?

In short, the real journey does not happen outside of us, but inside of us, as we move from darkness to light, from confusion to clarity, from knowing to loving. Step by step, we return to the source we came from.

In our own inner experiences, we can relate to the same truth, which implies that the path after death is not different from the path of life. What we meet there, beyond the separating veil, is a precise mirror of what we have created here. What we harvest there is exactly what we have sown here.

When the last breath leaves the body, the passage that follows is as natural as the changing of the seasons. Our body returns to the elements, following the cycle of nature, but our consciousness continues.

What happens before and at death is that the life-body loosens and the life-force that gave life and form since gestation separates from the physical form. Soon after this separation, memories rise to the surface. They flow like a vivid film through the spaces of the soul. Our whole life unfolds once more, now moving backwards from the end to the beginning, until it arrives again at birth.

For a while, life is streamed before us. When this streaming is complete, the last bit of life-force that still sustained us is reabsorbed by the sea of nature. After this final impression of life, the mental body, which contains the magnetic world of our thoughts, begins to dissolve.

The thoughts we believed were ours, the patterns we repeated day after day, fade like fog in the morning sun. In this phase, there is great clarity. The noise of thought grows still, and the soul stands in an endless space. It witnesses life as a whole, not as a film, but as a living imprint that needs no analysis or judgment.

In this state, knowledge is no longer carried by the mind, but by the heart. When this field of thought has left its imprint, it slowly dissolves, and consciousness lets go of thinking itself. Its magnetic radiations fade, and the soul now stands clothed in feelings alone.

After the world of thought has dissipated, the astral body, filled with feelings and emotions, comes into focus. In this space, the soul meets everything it has ever sent into life. Every act of love, every anger, every joy, and every fear returns. These waves are not there to punish, but to reflect the effects of our actions.

The pain we once caused to others is experienced as our own. But the soul also experiences the full effect of every expression of love it offered. For some, this phase is short and gentle. For others, it can be long and difficult. Slowly, all feelings fall silent.

When the astral body dissolves, only a quiet presence remains. When thought and feeling have grown still, what remains cannot be spoken. There is no form, no thought, no emotion. There is only a point of living light, the Divine Spark, radiant within the microcosm.

At this point, the great choice appears. Will we return to the circle of life, or are we drawn into the field of light, into God’s stillness, where all is One in radiant Love?

This is not judged from outside, but from within. It is determined by the vibration of the soul itself. If it has become one with stillness, it will follow where stillness calls. If it still carries unrest, it will return to where that unrest can be healed.

This is why all true teachings say, die before you die.

Angelus Silesius wrote, “You must die before you die, so that when you die, you do not die.”

To die before we die means to go through this process while we are still alive. It means letting our thoughts grow still before death silences them, and letting selfishness dissolve in the balance of Love before we are forced to face its consequences later.

When we have the courage to do this, our inner death begins. This death is not a loss, but a liberation. Already while we live, we can die daily in small ways that together form a great transformation.

We die when we forgive, when we overcome jealousy and anger, when we acknowledge our wrongdoings, when we choose silence over defence, when we heal our own wounds and the wounds of others through an open heart.

In this way, we rise into the Light that never fades. When our great transition comes, we will recognise the path, because we have walked it many times while alive.

From all this, we can see that death is not an end, but a change in which the soul becomes fully naked in the Light. When we live in truth, we already live in this Light. We can already become partakers of eternity here and now.

Let us not wait for death to begin living fully. Let us turn our lives into preparation, into a living temple built on the foundation of the Light of Love.

Every thought that grows still, every feeling we release, every act done in love, is a small dying of the ego and at the same time a rebirth of the soul.

The Divine Light exists in all stillness. It teaches us to die while we are alive, so that we may truly live in the Light when our final day comes.