Seven Keys to Overcoming the Crisis and Not Dying in the Attempt IV - Key 3

 

Key 3: The Capacity for Resurrection

In the previous two keys, we explored, first, the importance of discovering our inner being—transforming the way we perceive ourselves and the world around us. This shift in perspective allows us to see life differently. Second, we examined the necessity of discerning what depends on us and what does not, and facing life’s challenges as warriors—knowing that we always have been, are, and will be such. Through this awareness, we learn to “enjoy” the constant struggle that defines human existence—an inner battle not to become twisted, selfish, deceitful, cowardly, or ultimately, corrupt.

Yet, we are inevitably bound to cycles: day and night, sleep and wakefulness, youth, maturity, old age—and finally, death. Everything in nature points to the endless rhythm of transformation: decay and renewal, the exchange of mass and energy, planetary orbits, the Krebs cycle in physiology, inhalation and exhalation, atomic orbitals, the blooming and falling of leaves, spring and winter. Again and again, cycles repeat themselves, mirroring death and resurrection.

Try, if you can, to find something that remains unchanged—something that moves in only one direction, untouched by time. You will see that nothing fits this description. Even human folly, which sometimes seems eternal, eventually fades or transforms. Everything ends or becomes something new. Within us, too, these cycles manifest—not only in aging, hormonal shifts, or circadian rhythms, but in the ebb and flow of our moods and states of mind.

Why, then, must life and death be seen as opposites? Plato said that “the living come from the dead.” Though we may not grasp his exact meaning, we can understand that everything transforms. Just as life is not eternal, neither is death.

In Ancient Egypt, the god Osiris embodied this truth. He symbolized the power of renewal—the capacity to rise again after death and decay. His myth represented the eternal return of life, like the waters of the Nile, which cyclically revived the barren desert, bringing fertility and abundance once more. But no one can be resurrected without first dying.

To be reborn, one must know how to die: to leave the past behind, to break old patterns, to renew oneself, to stop repeating the same mistakes and words.

“This is what I learned last night. For millennia, Osiris has been the symbol of resurrection and regeneration for our people. We must do as our ancestors did—prepare for our death and our tomb, so that we may be resurrected. We must rescue the best of our past and preserve all that is worthy as we fight against tyranny.

Let us gather the sacred texts and the enduring wisdom of humanity. Let us build a fortress in the desert—safe from the erosion of time—where a new world may be born. Meanwhile, we must live fully, joyfully, and with confidence, even as we prepare for death beneath the radiant sun.

Let us follow Osiris’s example: as we labor joyfully, let us collect the finest fruits of civilization—the texts of Ptahhotep, the tales of the Thousand and One Nights, the wisdom of Plotinus, the legacy of Ramses and Imhotep, the Vedas, and perhaps even a replica of the Library of Alexandria. Let us enshrine the Quran, the Bible, and The Book of Coming Forth by Day. Yet remember—space is limited. Only what has proven timeless should remain.

We must also preserve our gods—our virtues—placing within our souls the symbols of Maat: truth, justice, generosity, and decency, all cultivated in the shell of respect and honesty.”

And this is the essence of resurrection: to abandon all that is useless and preserve only the treasures of the soul. For if we cannot renounce our past life, we cannot enter the Life of the Eternal Present—Here and Now.