
In Loving Memory of Sharon Eckstein
Dear Friends,
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Today, we inform you of the passing of the artist and dear friend Sharon Eckstein. You may know Sharon from her illustrations in our book “Parts Work” or through her “Inner Active Cards.” (Below is one of the last card images she created.) Those who have worked with the cards have experienced the deep intuitive wisdom they contain. It was a joy for her to know she touched tens of thousands of people worldwide through our book and her cards.
A Last Gift
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What many people have not experienced is the courageous and insightful way she moved through the last years of her life, which were filled with pain and severe limitations. Three years ago she had an episode which caused her to think that she was dying. She had been traveling on that edge for many years. During that experience, she received a gift that helped her through the following three years. She wrote a description of what arose from that experience and I want to share it as a way of giving you a glimpse of the depth of her soul. I think you will find this piece of her writing a special gift to us all.
Love, Tom & Lauri


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On Wednesday, January 12th, at 2:00 AM, I’m awakened by a roaring in my head, a rapid heartbeat, and a heaviness in my chest. I dismiss it, attributing it to indigestion, and decide to wheel into the kitchen where a bottle of TUMS is stored in a cabinet. I also use the bathroom, and note how dizzy and weak I am when I transfer from wheelchair to commode. Still I dismiss the symptoms of “whatever” believing they will pass.
But the symptoms don’t pass, and roaring in my head increases. “I’m having a heart attack,” I say. Because of Covid, I cannot dial 911 like I did when I had a heart attack five years ago; the hospitals are full and short staffed. And why would I choose to die in a hospital hallway while waiting for a bed, and catch Covid in the process. I consider my options.
I wheel into our living room where Gus and Fiona, our dog and cat, are sleeping by the warmth of the fireplace. The roaring in my head and the pressure in my chest is growing worse. “This is it,” I say. “I’m going to die.” And as soon as I said that, I felt a sublime peace, a total absence of any fear. I knew I would suffer physically until death took me, but I was resigned to this as well. Death promised to liberate me and I was willing to go. I was not afraid, even though my body felt like it was going to explode.
​Then I realized that I was not having a heart attack; I was having a panic attack. And as I sat in the living room by the fire, it gradually subsided – the roar quieted and my body calmed – and I became acutely aware of a benevolent presence. I have experienced this presence before, especially the day I fell off the elementary school playground crossbars when I was eighteen (long story). I had fallen six or seven feet, landed on my face, and was knocked unconscious for several hours, during which time I found myself in a peaceful glowing mist that was so beautiful and loving, I wanted to stay there forever. But this presence told me it was not my time, and I had to go back. And I was sent back to “normal reality.” The departure was excruciating. But I didn’t fear Death after that.
So, why a panic attack? One explanation is that I have been stressing myself under my self-imposed deadline to finish my book before 2022 – a fictional novel I began over ten years ago. I was in better physical shape then, and now, not only do I have severe coronary artery disease, I have a disabled body that’s wracked in chronic pain from a collapsed spine that’s left me unable to sit or walk. I write reclined on our couch, with my laptop on a tray over my lap, using my knuckle to type, because my hands are so crippled. I’m very slow. Believing my body won’t make it through another winter, I’ve put myself in constant duress; my obdurate ego in competition with Death. “I must finish this book before I die!”
Yet when faced with Death, I was neither defensive, nor fearful; I readily let go of my book. I let go of everything. I clearly saw that none of my personal goals mattered, and I saw Death as the portal to eternal peace and my true home.
Life on earth requires a physical body, either in excellent form, one riddled in disease or injury, or in one on the spectrum somewhere in between. Whatever life puts before us is our opportunity to delve deeply into this ephemeral earthly experience and grow spiritually in the way in which we are called. So I will continue to write my book, because I’m compelled to do so, and I enjoy writing and how it mines the unconscious for our innate wisdom. And if I finish it, so be it. And if I don’t, so be it.
I will continue to enjoy the beauty of our woods, and marvel at the love I share with my husband, who has become my devoted caretaker. I will continue to cherish my friends and be awed by the human capacity for ingenuity, courage, and compassion, as well as acknowledge my frustration by its ignorance, greed, and cowardice. Moonbeams streaming through my bedroom window remind me of the wonders of our universe and the vastness of its mystery. And when Death comes to call me home, I will welcome It, fearlessly.
Post Script: Sharon did finish the first book of her novel and it is available on a link below her picture above.
My Beautiful Death
By Sharon Eckstein: Written January, 2022