Would you come to my funeral if I died?

funeral-test-2I am a little under the weather.

It’s not a cold… it’s more like… let me tell you what happened.

As you know I put myself into this daily wakeup call, daily “knock you conscious” program, the 67 steps.

This past week, I don’t remember which day, the question was: how many people will be at your funeral when you die? Or that is what I heard.

I think it was more like: Have you passed the funeral test… anyway, I have been dealing with that question. Not well.

I am a hermit. The few people I actually know, would not come to my funeral… probably would not even know about.

So if I needed to measure the value of my life in passing the funeral test, I have all the reason to get depressed.

And I have.

funeral-testIt became the context of my life for a few days… I looked at every email, the lack of emails, someone getting sick… everything as a proof that I am not loved, I am not valued, that no matter what I do… blah blah blah.

I even cried for a few minutes today. It felt that it was long overdue: that cry came from very deep, buried, suppressed, kept in check for long.

It was good that I cried. I got to the other side of it.

I could see that “no matter what I do” is a lie. I don’t do much of anything to be liked, I don’t do much anything to have people in my life.

I have what I have earned. It is a good launch floor… I can now decide what it is that I value, what it is that I want.

In all areas of my life, not just “social.”

I can ask relevant questions, like would having friends support me or hinder me in the work I have to do, the work that only I can do…

Given that a True Empath that recognizes that they are a true empath, and take on the cross to bear… happens every 500 years or so, and because you are so clueless, you need someone to diagnose you, to be aware of what’s going on in you, so you can move from dead center, from the stuck state you are in.

Of course the reaction to my feedback is a mixed bag:

some people thank me, and say “I love you.”
some people withdraw and send me an email “I want to try this on my own”
and some people disappear without a trace.

1731Loving me is like loving to give birth: I hear it is very painful… lol.

The result is, in the end, a lot of joy… but creating a new life, nurturing it to a point where it can run on his own (I am using a baby as an analogy to your life) is, I hear, worth it.

I am not a mother. I can’t even fathom what it’s like.

So, I failed the funeral test…

The question is really this, I repeat: would having friends support or hinder my work?

Because that is the only important thing to me.

I ask the same question about food: does eating me support or hinder my work?

And exercise… hm, what could I do to combine the two? Anyone has a treadmill desk for sale?

Author: Sophie Benshitta Maven

True empath, award winning architect, magazine publisher, transformational and spiritual coach and teacher, self declared Avatar

4 thoughts on “Would you come to my funeral if I died?”

  1. This is an old post, I know. I’ve never seen you in the flesh. We’ve never gone to lunch or bullshitted on the phone. I mean this- when you die if I somehow hear about it in time and there’s a service, I’ll be there. For no other reason than the cliche to “pay my respects.” Not for you. For me. It isn’t about the death, that’s an absolute. It’s about the life you lived that I took from. That may or may not mean something to you, but I lose nothing by saying it in time.

Comments are closed.