About Death…

“…By this we can understand our complaint to the Creator: ‘You must not … put the righteous to death together with the wicked,’ since the very life of the wicked is regarded as death. It is as our sages said, ‘The wicked, in their lives, are called “dead,”’ since the life they enjoy in this world prevents them from obtaining eternal life. Since the whole intention of creation, namely to do good to His creations, is unattainable while being far from the Creator, since ‘the cursed does not adhere to the blessed.’ Therefore, the wicked in their lives are called ‘dead.’ This is the meaning of the wicked being sentenced to death…”
Rabash, Letter 67

Our inherent nature — the very matter from which we are made — is an insatiable desire for existence and fulfillment.
Everything we ever do is driven by it. Every thought, every choice, every movement is aimed, consciously or unconsciously, at maintaining the existence of the self and filling it as much as possible, at all costs.

By default, when we speak about life, we mean the continuation of our biological body. We identify ourselves with this body, with its sensations, its pleasures and pains, its survival. And naturally, we associate death with the cessation of this biological existence — because when the body stops perceiving, we feel that we no longer exist.

This is how death is understood in corporeal perception.

But only when a person begins to study and practice authentic spiritual science — only when one enters a true method, within a true environment — does a shocking realization begin to dawn: our true human existence has nothing to do with the physical body.

The body is an animal mechanism. Necessary, functional, transient — but not who we are.

Through the right spiritual work, a person gradually establishes within himself something entirely new: a transparent, objective, selfless observer. This observer is not the ego. It is not the instincts. It is not the biological will to survive. It is a point above the original self — a seed of a new human being.

This observer can learn to exist independently of the ego, and even independently of the physical life of the body.

And then the most unsettling question arises:
If I am not the body, then who am I? With what do I identify myself?

The Kabbalists — empirical scientists of human nature and reality, who themselves walked this path until attaining the single benevolent governing force — answer unequivocally: the true self can only be found by associating oneself with the Creator.

Not through the body.
Not through the self-serving, self-justifying, individualistic ego.
But through the Creator’s qualities: pure, unconditional, totally selfless love and bestowal.

Instead of existing inside the body, one learns to exist inside the Creator.
Instead of living through reception, one learns to live through bestowal.

And through this profound shift — from dissociating from the selfish ego to associating with the Creator — our entire understanding of life and death is completely redefined.

Death is no longer a biological event.

Death becomes something I determine.

It may be that right now I feel good, calm, satisfied. My life may appear orderly, even pleasant. And yet, I may determine that this state is death — because it leads to separation, because it distances me from the Creator, because it has no direction toward the goal.

So what do I use to measure life?

I can measure it by sensation:
How do I feel in my organs?
Am I comfortable or uncomfortable?
Am I full or empty?
In a good mood or a bad one?

Or I can build a vessel above reason — above myself — and live in it.
A spiritual vessel.

In that case, I do not deny the animal sensations. I do not suppress them. I do not escape them. But I determine my state not by how I feel, but by how connected I am to the Creator within that feeling.

Then life and death are measured by entirely different criteria.

Is descent death?
It depends.

If descent means that I stopped thinking about the Creator, even for a moment — that I disconnected from Him — that is death.

But if descent merely means that I feel bad, tired, gray, empty — yet I remain oriented toward the Creator, examining my connection with Him — then that is not death at all. It is work.

Everything depends on where my point of sensitivity is located.

There are vessels that feel — animal vessels.
And there are vessels that are directed — spiritual vessels.

Animal vessels determine reality by sensation: good for me or bad for me, pleasant or unpleasant, strong or weak, inspired or drained.

Spiritual vessels determine reality by direction: connection or disconnection, adhesion or separation.

What is determined not from connection with the Creator is called animality.
What is determined solely from connection with Him is called spirituality.

For now, the distinction is simple:
Connection with the Creator — life.
Disconnection from Him — death.

Later, these will receive deeper forms, names, degrees. But at this stage, this single measuring tool is enough.

From the initial state to the final state, every person must pass through all states. No one is exempt. One must be wicked, and one must be righteous. One must fail before succeeding. One must taste death before knowing life.

A person must enter into all sensations of evil and death — both in corporeal awareness and in spiritual awareness. Both in vessels that feel and in vessels that determine relative to the Creator.

Only from the full experience of Malchut — its bitterness, darkness, emptiness — can one rise toward Keter. One cannot exist without the other.

Everything depends on attitude.
On pace.
On help from the group.
On whether one relates to states as destructive — or as creative.

If states are seen as creative, even death is lived as preparation for life.

Yes, a person must fall. Yes, one must feel despair, lack of strength, real death. But these states are felt only for the sake of ascent. Then they pass quickly. They do not consume the person. They do not paralyze him.

This is why it is written that one “merited to taste the taste of death.”

Because only one who truly descends can truly ascend.

And what is the day of death?

It is a shocking reversal of perception.

A state that appears as day — bright, comfortable, pleasant — suddenly reveals itself as death. Why? Because I see that I defined it as day only because it was good for me. Comfortable. Safe. Ego-friendly.

And suddenly another measuring tool appears.

I see that this “day” has no connection with the Creator. No breakthrough toward bestowal. No movement toward real life.

So precisely what I once called day becomes death.

From that moment on, I must measure differently.

Not by sensation.
Not by comfort.
Not by how I feel.

But by one thing only:

How connected am I to the Creator in this state?

This becomes the new scale.
The new ruler.
The new definition of life and death.

And through this, death itself becomes a gate to eternal life.