This is a true story. I don’t like to write long diaries so this will be in two parts.
• Only the learned (together with the angels) are able to testify to God’s existence
and unity (H.Q 3:18)
• "Allah, His angels, the occupant of the heaven and earth, even the ant in its hole,
and even the fish, pray for the teachers who teaches goodness." (Tirmidhi and others,
authenticated by Al-Albani)
My husband was the most learned, kindest, happiest, wisest man I ever knew. He had read every holy book ever written. He could quote easily from the Bible, the Koran, the Tao, the I Ching and the Bhagavad Gita, but he rarely did. He did not show off. He was a good listener and people always came to him because he listened. He had read the Upanishads and the Talmud, and also Huxley and Timothy Leary. He had studied under many wise Buddhist teachers, including Baba Ramdas, for several years, and after trying to go to the Himalayas (failed trip, another story), spent two years in the wilderness seeking answers. He had done, in a few years in his life, thousands of acid trips, tons of peyote and mescaline by the spoonful. When he was done, he rarely did them again, but enjoyed them when he did. He often said they were useful for “blowing out the cobwebs.”
The Bhagavad Gita:
http://en.wikipedia.org/...
Its philosophies and insights are intended to reach beyond the scope of religion and to humanity as a whole. It is at times referred to as the "manual for mankind" and has been highly praised by not only prominent Indians such as Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi but also Aldous Huxley, Albert Einstein, J. Robert Oppenheimer, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Carl Jung and Herman Hesse.[1][2] It is considered among the most important texts in the history of literature and philosophy.[3] The Bhagavad Gita comprises exactly 700 verses, and is a part of the Mahabharata. The teacher of the Bhagavad Gita is Lord Krishna, who is revered by Hindus as a manifestation of God (Parabrahman) itself,[3] and is referred to within as Bhagavan, the Divine One.[4]
I will tell you three wise things my husband said. He was a man of few words. I asked him one time why we were here. His answer,”To appreciate.”
I asked him what he thought happened when we died. He said, “It is like a drop of water returning to the ocean.”
The chaplain at the hospital asked him what religion he was. He said, “I don’t believe in closing any doors.”
I have only come here seeking knowledge
things they would not teach me of in college
Police (Sting)
The Prophet (sallallahu alaihi wa sallam) said: "For him who adopts a path of seeking knowledge, Allah eases the way in Paradise, and Angels spread their wings for the seekers of knowledge, being pleased with his occupation, and all that is in the heavens and the Earth including the fish in the water, ask for his forgiveness. (Abu Dawood and Tirmidhi)
I should have died the minute Skip did. I thought I would. He died the day before my birthday. We had been together almost 26 years. At first I was just in shock for a long time. It happened so fast and I think it is a natural physical instinct. To protect you. I would wake up every morning crying, after sleeping maybe a couple hours, before full consciousness even set in. I did not want to wake up. My days were filled with unimaginable pain and incredible hurt. It hurts, it hurts, I wrote over and over in my journals.
What the family went through when Skip died convinced me that I had to take care of everything first so my family wouldn’t have to. Then I could die. I set out on one of the longest suicide plans in history. It didn’t start out that way. I just thought when I was done I would die. People talk about how someone dies when the person they loved for so much of their life died, and this is what I thought would happen. I could not imagine living long with such pain and sadness.
It took me almost a year and to sell my house and give away everything I owned and loved. My family should have known but they’d already written me off. When I was done I bought a small, tiny, trailer and moved two doors away to some friend’s property and waited to die. I still had my dog Mauley, and she was the last living thing I had even a remote connection to. I thought my dog was dying at the time, and I had taken her to the vet many times but he could not find what was wrong with her.
One day in May, about a year and four months after Skip died, I decided Mauley and I were at the end. I had physically devastated myself doing everything I did, going on sure will power to get it all done. Mauley was in bad health. I loaded up a bunch of pills and took her to the river with me. We hiked at least a mile down river where usually no one goes. It was very hard on Mauley, she could barely walk at that point. When I got there, there were lots of people. I waited and waited for them to leave, but they didn’t. I decided to cross the river and go further. When I crossed the river I slipped and fell, dropping my pills and they were soaked and ruined, crumbling into mush. I dragged myself and Mauley back to my car, we finally made it, and I returned to my little trailer in the deepest darkest despair, upset that I could not die. Everything was dark.
I sat in my lonely trailer for a couple hours. It was dark. I felt nothing but darkness. I started taking pills, one by one and giving them to my dog in some cheese. We would go together. Believe me I took enough and the right combination that I would die that night and it would all be over. The pain, the sadness, the loneliness, the heartache. I fell asleep soon after. A deep, deep sleep.