Northern Exposure Quote of the Day: Good lord, you're only a doctor. Tell me, do you reproach yourself when Winter comes, when the grass dies and the leaves fall from the trees? Nedra died because it was her time. And she died well. She died with all her wits about her and with her loved ones by her side. She said all her good-byes. You and I should only be so fortunate, Joel. – Ruth Anne, after a disconsolate Joel loses a patient he couldn't find anything wrong with.

I've been engrossed in the so-called "Tibetan Book of the Dead" (again) lately. It was written in the 8th or 9th century by the great Indian adept, Padma Sambhava, who had come to Tibet, and who later hid the text in a period of turmoil and decline. It remained hidden until it was re-discovered in the 14th century.

The text of the book is a guide to be recited to/for the recently deceased, or to be familiarized for one's own death. Apparently there were adepts like Padma Sambhava who focused on the experience of death and reincarnation using yogic, esoteric, tantric, or whatever methods, and through countless many lifetimes were able to not only figure out what happened between death and rebirth, but were able to navigate and retain the experience.

I do believe in that continuity, that strong or recurrent elements in our current lives are resonances and remnants from previous lives. There's a reason for my fear of spiders and heights, and my attraction towards trains and . . . well, heights.

It is not only the Dalai Lama, who is discovered by a child's ability to correctly identify objects and elements relevant to the previous Dalai Lama, who can manifest retention of past knowledge. It is not because he is "holy". We all have that potential if we commit to cultivating it. Over countless many lifetimes, that is.

My thing about the book is, having been educated in white liberalist and critical thought, that the death experience is universal. So for credibility to be placed in it requires an ability for it to be applied universally. And, of course, if you read it, it's filled with Buddhistic deities and icons and Indian imagery.

The book was written in a cultural context and references a specific region's mythology, belief, and aesthetic, just as Biblical mysticism draws on ancient Greek and Egyptian mythology, belief, and aesthetic. So to bring it into the 21st century multicultural context, even just for myself, the text would need to be able to be re-envisioned to apply to various and different belief systems (mind you, it just needs the ability to be re-envisioned, it doesn't necessarily need to be).

I don't have a deep background in Buddhist deities. For me, I go by what the book itself makes a point of – that the deities encountered, or whatever is encountered after death, are a projection of our own true self.

That works for me really well, since it's an extension of my belief about physical reality, too – that it's a projection of my own imagination and self. The world around me is a reflection of my own emotional landscape. I'm my own "archetype deity", although I have to leave it open what that means or looks like. I get it intellectually, but I'm still working on the deep understanding part.

And as modernist practice, I use falling asleep to plot and map the loss of consciousness to the dream realm. It's highly fascinating and I recommend trying it, insomnia notwithstanding.

I lie flat on my back in bed, arms at my side, and try to bring my consciousness into sharp focus. My eyes can be open, half-open, or closed, it can vary. I concentrate on my body and track my breathing and think about my blood pumping.

I try to be aware of the room, the objects, the sounds, and the light and shadows. I try not to change position when it gets uncomfortable because I found that whenever I do that, I plunge into sleep and recall very little after changing positions. Go figure.

And then I track my consciousness and be aware what's happening as it slips away. The next morning, I try to remember what I remember and recall any dreams and imagine having been lucid in the dream.

What's up with all these long entries?