It was an amazing feeling. Never before in my life had I felt so utterly calm and relaxed. All I had to do now was to let go of the stick, and life’s struggle would be over. Forever. Within seconds, my little floatplane would crash into the mountain ridge next to me and go up in a great ball of fire…
“God is in the rain.”
I believe this lovely quote is credited to British comic writer Alan Moore. Most certainly, many other people, less famous, have expressed this view too.
Personally, I love this sentiment. It is common sense.
But then, of course, God is in the Sun as well.
And in the Air. And in the Wind. And in the Clouds, And in the Trees, the Rivers, and the Oceans. He inhabits the great savannahs and grassy plains of Africa and South America. He is part of the Rocky Mountains and the Himalayas. He lives in the soul of every creature on every continent - perhaps even in Australia - on this magnificent planet.
He is in the Stars and in the Moon.
He is in the Universe because he is the Universe.
God is IN all these things because He IS all these things.
I assume He doesn’t spend much time in the big cities any longer because there would be no point for Him to reside in an iPhone, a Black Berry, a TV set, or a Computer. He has no need to compete for your undivided attention against endless streams of daft and foolish entertainment.
You cannot see Him with your eyes, but you can feel His eternal existence with your heart.
He is the mightiest being, but He speaks with the softest whisper.
God talks to you constantly. He continuously communicates with you through your dreams and your desires.
It is your own choice to acknowledge Him or not. It is of no consequence to Him whether you believe in Him—just as the existence of the sky remains unaffected by your belief or disbelief.
Nevertheless, God believes in you, and He lets you know what is right and what is wrong. If you care to listen, that is.
This is called a moral compass—and apart from sociopaths and psychopaths—I believe everyone inherently possesses one.
There is more—and this is where it can get disquieting.
The point is, God is everywhere inside His creation. This contrasts with religion, where God sits outside His creation on a throne, assigned impeccable traits like a perfect superhuman being, judging us all and punishing anyone who contravenes His rules.
All three main competing religions essentially preach guilt and fear. People find themselves in a constant loop of mental struggle, trying to discern right from wrong, hoping to avoid God’s condemnation and the prospect of being sent to hell. But these rules are not God's rules. These rules are created by men, designed to serve the interests of those who made them.
So, when in doubt, the old rule of “cui bono?”—who benefits?—should be applied to reveal the powers behind the curtain: those who covertly attempt to impose their will on the people, claiming to rule in “God’s” name as the self-appointed intermediaries between humanity and the divine.
Of course, I realize the notion of a deity—a governing ruler guiding our lives from the outside—provides a certain comfort. If we submit to an authority that tells us what to do, how to do it, and when to do it, we can also assign it responsibility for our current situation and the resulting state.
After all, most people perpetually live in a state of self created trouble. They are either in a crisis, coming out of one or headed into one. Believe me, I know what I am talking about. I hold the patent on crises—especially those I’ve masterfully inflicted upon myself.
So being fatalistic and blaming someone else is probably the easiest choice to deal with lives challenges.
However, as soon as we reject all authority and fully take responsibility — this is called freedom, by the way — we can, as a result, become very lonely. We exclude ourselves from the community of conditioned people for whom submission and subordination are synonymous with security.
In reality, humans don't actually want to be free. Freedom places the burden of responsibility on us for our actions and decisions.
God, in my view, has little to do with religion. Religion is man-made. Religion competes. Religion rivals. Religion, unfortunately, is often a means to control men, subjugate society, and establish dominion over nature.
Especially in the Middle East a supposedly benevolent religion is perverted to justify inhuman behaviour. Fanatical, eternal fury and rage are fuelled by envy and loathing. Poor, uneducated people, mentally stuck in medieval times, are gaslit by hate preachers.
Countless abhorrent acts have been committed in the name of faith.
Religion has given us the Inquisition, the Crusades, the Knights Templar, the Intifadas, the Mujahideen, the Taliban, suicide bombers, zealous fanatics, and extremists.
At the root of this dilemma are three fiercely competing teachings and their many derivatives, which originated in a relatively small piece of dirt in the Middle East. Among a host of other common characteristics—some noble and benign—one particular feature stands out like the Pharos of Alexandria:
Each claims to be the bearer of the only true faith and, therefore, feels entitled to rule the world. This, in itself, is an utterly laughable notion.
Please, enlighten me:
Why would God want men to battle over who is right or wrong about Him and chop each other’s heads off in the process?
Why would the Lord possibly want the very beings He created to inflict pain and suffering on one another?
Why would a congenial, loving, all knowing entity that is part of everything and anything encourage senseless slaughter of innocent people and animals?
That doesn’t make any sense.
And for God’s sake, why would He promise some goat herder from Barbaristan that strapping on an explosive vest and blowing himself up—killing as many non-believers from a competing branch as possible—would be a path to divine reward?
And why would a murderous sociopath, as a reward for the heinous act of massacring innocent people, be granted entry to heaven with the promise of 70 compliant virgins awaiting him?
Why would God suggest your life is incomplete unless you wage war on those with differing beliefs?
But then again, though harmless in comparison, why would He hand the Ten Commandments 2.0 to Joseph Smith Jr.—a man with a seemingly profound taste for polygamy—while he casually strolled through Central Park in the 19th century, and instruct him to establish yet another derivative of Christianity?
Why would He, while He was at it, also inform him that Jesus was actually Lucifer's brother...?
To sweeten the deal for "Messiah" Smith, God even threw in an extra feature to outdo the Muslims in particular:
Mormons would be permitted to have an unlimited number of wives, unlike Islam's paltry four.
I could go on forever.
In essence, I don’t oppose religion at all, as long as it serves to unite, provides solace, and gives desperate people a place to meet, seek help, pray, and congregate peacefully with like-minded souls, whether it's in churches, synagogues, or mosques.
For all I care, the head religious fanatics can embark on a never-ending flying carpet ride around the world, eternally screaming at each other, as long as they promise to leave peaceful folks like us alone.
Personally, I find Taoism and Buddhism far more sound. These beliefs recognize God as an all-encompassing universal existence.
As an appealing bonus, these teachings do not expect followers to break out their machetes and wander off to chop their unsuspecting neighbors to pieces, just because they happen to believe in a different deity.
I kinda like that.
The fertile ground, however, for any kind of beliefs, sentiments, and worships has always been mankind’s unbearable fear of death.
We are the only species we know of for which its sole existence poses a problem. Because we are self aware — some more, some less - we try to analyse, reason, contemplate and to figure out how to live forever, or at least understand what happens after this life.
The fact that we can’t take any of our possessions with us when we die troubles us tremendously.
Look no further than the Pharao’s tombs and you will see that they were terrified of dying, despite their throngs of Gods to pray to.
All our work and excessive accumulation of goods is, in the end, for naught. This is why wealthy people are generally far more concerned about their demise than the poor.
Hence, suicide bombers are always recruited from the impoverished.
You won’t see a rich, sanctimonious Saudi Prinz shuffle off and turn himself into a human bomb now, would you?
Again, this is why I find an Eastern perspective on existence far more inviting.
It teaches you to live in the present moment, be grateful for what you are, for the little that you have, avoid comparisons, abstain from judgment, and not cling excessively to material things.
If you take the requisite time to study the Bible, you’ll find numerous references to living simply with few earthly possessions. None of the Ten Commandments demand centring your life around money, nor do they say anything absurd like “get rich or die trying!”
This is a point as good as any to shuffle back to my little floatplane in dire straits…
I had gotten caught in severe weather conditions up in the Yukon. I shouldn’t have been out flying in this storm to begin with, but my lack of flying experience in the mountains and an unhealthy dose of misplaced pride led me to ignore my instincts and sleepwalk into disaster.
So here I was, in the middle of blasting 48 knots (80km/h) winds and turbulence, dangerously close to the mountain walls. My plane was being thrown from left to right, up and down, while the contents of my luggage compartment bombarded me from behind. I hit my head on the ceiling so hard I almost passed out— twice.
It takes a lot to scare me, but never before had I been so utterly powerless to get out of a tight spot. I was truly terrified.
Then, suddenly, something changed. The screaming engine, howling winds, creaking wings and fuselage fell silent. All the terrifying noise hushed. It was as if the furious world outside, along with my fear, vanished behind a soft, velvet curtain.
I didn’t hear anything anymore. It felt like being submerged in a soft, comfortable cloud of coziness. The temptation to let go was indescribable, almost impossible to resist. It was magnificent.
The fear of dying was gone and unbeknownst to me at that moment, it would never return.
There was no worry, no pain, no anxiety, no terror—no feeling of loneliness or separation anymore. Only the promise of peace of mind and the sense of being part of the universe once more, something we humans are estranged from when we painfully enter this world screaming.
Words fail me in describing this experience, but it is a bit like being in love, I guess. No one can tell you that you are, and you cannot prove that you are. You simply know in every bone of your body.
From that day on in the fall of 2018 my entire view of existence and my place within this odd but funny circle of life began to evolve.
I realized whatever resides on the “other side” must be truly great.
The other day, I came across an interesting description of what life and death are all about, from someone who had been dead after an accident but was brought back to life by emergency personnel. It happens to coincide perfectly with what I believe.
Our physical bodies separate us from the oneness that we are. We are like water poured from a pitcher into individual cups, where we remain until we die and return to the whole.
Often, when my life is in peril or when I face overwhelming challenges, I recall that storm. I remember what it felt like to just let go, to thrust myself into heavenly welcoming arms.
Immediately, it puts everything into perspective, and I think to myself:
“Bring it on, life! Is this all you’ve got? I’ve lived through far worse, and a better place is already waiting for me…”
A few years later, in January 2023, I tested this realization the hard way—is there any other way?
While flying in Wyoming, crossing a mountain ridge, I got caught in heavy turbulences again. My plane violently nosed over, rushing at an ever increasing speed toward the ground. The engine’s roar was deafening as the speed went far beyond the red line. The little flying machine shuddered violently, on the verge of falling apart.
The snow covered earth came closer and closer but amidst this mayhem I remained utterly calm. This time, I actually did let go of the controls.
Whatever was to come, I welcomed it with open arms.
I couldn’t have cared less. I had, once again, maneuvered myself into a spot of bother. The life I had been enjoying so much here in Cowboy country was falling apart, mainly because I had blindly trusted the wrong people, yet again.
For the first time since leaving the beloved Maasai Mara, I had felt truly at home.
If this simple but happy life was about to unexpectedly come to an end, what was there to fear?
Nothing, really...
Still, 600 feet before I smashed into the ground and go up in a ball of flames I got hold of myself, reluctantly remerged out of this comforting cloud.
I thought about my lovely wife, who I was about to leave behind. This thought brought me out of my protective haze and back to reality. Reluctantly, I took control of the plane again, taking a rain check on my rendezvous with eternity.
So, how do you get rid of your fear of dying, other than by exposing yourself to life threatening situations?
I don’t know. All I do know is that living becomes so much easier once the perpetually looming monster of demise looses its fangs.
That being said, I don’t believe you can—or should—eradicate the anxiety of dying entirely.
The will to survive often mobilizes a power source usually inaccessible to us. It’s what drives us to swim a little longer, run a little faster, and fight more fiercely.
Once you forfeit the will to survive, what you once considered your purpose in life—and the desire to stay alive—may dissolve, leaving your existence to become a senseless, meaningless drag.
At times, as you wake up in the morning, you might find yourself wondering, 'Shouldn't I have just let go of the controls...?
However, it might be possible to reduce anxiety to a healthier level... I guess.
Marcel Romdane
All fun and games in the Wyoming Sky in the winter before I took a violent dive.... A storm is coming.....in the Yukon
