To a very small degree, Yinepu has been a presence in my life for close to a year, now. My youngest brother brought back a statue of him from Spain last year, during his trip to Europe, and it is sitting next to my computer monitor as I type. Up until recently, however, he stayed quiet. There was the occasional sense of him looking in on me, but nothing more. As those who work with him more regularly probably know better than I, he is not much of a talker.
A friend of mine, who knows who they are, recently channelled him for me; and from what she said, his arrival was not easy for either of us. She apparently had to prepare over a period of around three days, during which time I was simultaneously put through a severe emotional wringer as well.
As again, is probably common knowledge for most, Yinepu is a God of death; or a psychopomp. In his particular case, he does not actually cause death as such, but it is to document his apparent purpose, which motivated me to write this article.
Yinepu seems to primarily be an astral surgeon. His role is to apparently remove those extraneous elements of energy (assocated with attachments, unfulfilled desires, and regrets from life) which become attached to the aetheric body, and which would otherwise hinder or prevent death.
As such, his message to me was not a re-assuring one, but rather a stern warning. In hindsight, Ebenezer Scrooge's visitation from Jacob Marley, in Dickens' A Christmas Carol came to mind as an appropriate analogy.
I have spent roughly the last two decades on a Disability Support Pension; and for most of that time, have done virtually nothing other than sit in front of a computer within my bedroom. Yinepu's initial words to me were that I had much potential, which had so far gone almost entirely unrealised, and unutilised. I'm 37 years old now; and for the next 12 days or so, live with my mother. I have no partner, no children, perhaps one or two long term friends, most of whom I never see, and my net economic worth, not counting this computer, is around $2,500 AUD.
What was particular interesting, however, was the degree to which Yinepu appeared to be almost entirely morally neutral. His interest is almost exclusively focused on removing extraneous elements from the aura. Given what little I had read about the weighing of the heart against the feather of Truth, I had assumed that some sort of arbitrary moral code would be involved. I was actually told that that was not the case; but that Ma'at in this context at least, rather referred to the degree of authenticity with which a person had lived. If living authentically meant being authentically evil, then apparently that was irrelevant. I found that extremely surprising.
The point was not to leave anything undone. No regrets, no guilt, no unfulfilled desires or dreams; as these were what would get attached to the aetheric body, weigh it down, and prevent or hinder a person's transition after death.
The title of this blog post, is a reference to the above video. It's an excerpt from the film The Crow, in which the character Eric Draven, who had come back from the dead in order to avenge his murder, plays one last guitar solo before smashing his amplifier, and throwing his guitar off the roof.
I've spent probably the last four hours (which was longer than it should have been) putting together this web page. It's a diagram and explanation for a one chunk branch mine, which was my default mining technique, during the nearly three years that I played Minecraft, which I uploaded to my Web host. Then, with the above video playing in the background, I deleted every trace of Minecraft that I could find on my computer; more than 4 gigabytes, all told; including my local copies of the Web page, the stuff on my laptop, and backups of a map that I had . I will leave the page up on my Web host for a while, since the point was to benefit other people who are still playing it. While I was doing it, I came across the folder of my single player server of World of Warcraft, as well. I admit; deleting that is going to be a lot harder.
We've all got guitars. In some cases, of course, they're even literal ones. We can hold onto them for as long as they are useful; but it's good to know when the time has come, with each one, to give yourself one last solo, and then throw them off the roof.
There's another point here for me, as well. I'm currently three years away from what I at least, have always considered to be the incontrovertible gateway to old age. At 40, by any reckoning, you can no longer be honestly referred to as young. This means that, although I'm not terminally ill, I need to start to give serious consideration to the fact that, sooner or later, I am unavoidably going to die; and when I do, 99% of who and what I am, is going to cease to exist.
I don't like death; I never have. Like almost everyone in this society, I've spent my life attempting to deny the fact that it exists. Yet I think what Yinepu has been trying to tell me is, that when we deny death, we inevitably also end up denying life.
To quote Bicentennial Man; "Welcome to the human condition."
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