The Elusive “Animating Principle”

For all the years that human beings have identified themselves as being…beyond plants and animals, people have wondered what makes a person’s face and eyes look empty after death. No friend would argue that they look as they always did. Something seems to be missing. In spite of the machinations of morticians who do their best to recreate the coloring of the person just passed, most would say the body still looks not asleep but dead. The explanations of the processes at work stretch between the organic and scientific to spirit or independent consciousness that’s no longer present. Some have claimed to see an indefinable something arise from the body and some have even weighed it by subtracting the subtle difference between the weight of the body still alive and then deceased. We’ll do neither here.

While some would label me mystical or fanciful, I have my skeptical side. However, my curiosity won’t permit me to dismiss invisible aspects of life out of hand. I want to know where the huge energy that was the living person goes. One source I especially appreciated is the nonfiction book THE AWAKENED WAY: MAKING THE SHIFT TO A DIVINELY GUIDED LIFE by Suzanne Giesemann. At one point in her career, Giesemann was a no-nonsense commanding naval officer of a shore unit, a special assistant to the chief of naval operations, and—finally—the aide de campe to the head of the U.S. military, the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff. In other words, she wasn’t given to woo-woo.

Like everyone else, she was shaken by the emotional and physical destruction of 9/11, but she didn’t falter. She continued handling her job and when she was eligible to retire, she left to focus on healing as she sailed with her husband on their sloop. In fact, they were still exploring the world when they received news that her beloved daughter-in-law—who was joyfully pregnant—had been struck and killed by lightning as she walked a flight line, on her way to report for duty as a U.S. Marine sergeant. Death ceases to be an abstract concept when it eliminates someone dear. Suddenly the seemingly random cruelty feels unbearable. The emptiness seems contagious.

Being the kind of person who earns a position as a naval commander, Giesemann couldn’t merely hide away to grieve. She felt she had to find a way to contact her beloved daughter-in-law. Her book (she’s written several) details not only what she did but what she suggests others can do to remain in contact with deceased loved ones—as well as others who can help us understand ourselves and our real world. The challenge took her three years, but she accomplished what she set out to do, connecting her experience with validation she insisted on finding. Today, she’s an international messenger of hope who guides those who are ready to the realization that love never dies in our multidimensional universe.

The essence of what she realized is the nature of all human beings—that we are partially flesh-and-blood and partially timeless spirit. We are all connected in ways we rarely understand. The non-physical portion of us fits neatly in a multidimensional universe as suggested by quantum physics, but we aren’t prepared by education or family training to embrace or easily benefit from that side of reality. Her books contain real life examples that confound those who reject the idea that there’s anything about our universe or ourselves that we don’t already know. If you’re curious, largely non-woo woo, and skeptical, I recommend her works to provide directions for your explorations.