On Sorrowful Death: Masters’ Level-1 Instructions on Tashī's Passed-On Soul-Screen—Pt.2 Ch. 1.7

"Death is not a sorrowful thing, but rather complete liberation in an instant."

The words echoed in the dreamstate chamber. My breath hitched as the screen flickered again, pulsing with an eerie glow. The air grew heavier, thick with an unseen presence. A low hum filled the

chamber, resonating with something deep within my chest.

A still moment. Another soldier lay on the ground, his body motionless, his fingers slightly curled as if in a final grasp for something unseen. His breath had long faded, yet his presence lingered.

"Wait," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "He’s dead. But why is he still… lingering?"

The screen zoomed in, revealing a faint shimmer—something fragile, something hesitant. A soul-thread, trembling in uncertainty.

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🐉 Instructions Level-1 #(4) 🐉

Death is not a sorrowful thing, but rather complete liberation in an instant.

A voice spoke from the screen, its tone resonant and soothing.

Tenzin, the younger boy at the Practice House, furrowed his brow. "I don’t understand. How can death not be sad? Doesn’t everyone grieve when someone dies?"

Tenzin appeared on our screen, his image flickering slightly. The Q&A session had taken place before we left for Tashī Dalāi, only days ago. Now, the words carried an eerie weight.

Drakos exhaled, his eyes locked onto the screen. "Grief is for the living, Tenzin, and Śri’-verā."

He gestured toward the wavering soul-thread. "The dead experience something else entirely."

Tenzin’s expression remained skeptical. "Then why does he look so lost? Shouldn’t he feel… free?"

I, still watching the flickering image, spoke softly. "Because he doesn’t know he is free yet."

A hush fell over the chamber.

The screen shifted. The soldier's body remained still, but his soul-thread pulsed erratically, caught between two forces. One was the weight of his past—the struggle, the pain, the unfinished thoughts. The other was something light, something pulling him gently forward.

Yet he didn’t move.

Fear of the unknown held him back.

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The horror of losing grip on what he had known to possess and obsess over made him vulnerable.

A figure materialized on the screen—a luminous presence, neither male nor female, neither young nor old. It radiated a sense of calm, pulsating in sync with the Celestial Energy Bar hovering above the battlefield image.

A: "Because sorrow belongs to attachment. When the living grieve, they mourn what they have lost. But the dead… they are stepping beyond loss. If they understand."

The screen wavered. It was as if the entity spoke not only to us but to the hesitant soul on the battlefield.

I frowned. "But don’t the dead feel sadness too?"

The luminous figure tilted its head slightly. "Some do. At first. But not because they are dead—only because they resist what has already happened."

The screen changed again, showing another image—a woman clutching at her own chest, her soul-thread tangled, dim. She wept, unaware that her physical body lay meters away, lifeless.

Drakos' voice was quiet. "The sorrow is not in dying. The sorrow is in refusing to let go."

I shivered. The words rang true in a way I hadn’t expected.

Tenzin still looked unconvinced. "But isn’t that normal? If you suddenly die, wouldn’t you be confused? Maybe even scared?"

Drakos nodded. "Of course. That’s exactly why this instruction exists. To turn around that fear."

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The battlefield scene returned. The soldier’s soul-thread flickered, pulsing. He could feel it—the pull, the possibility of something beyond the pain of his final moments.

But he hesitated.

Something held him back.

The screen zoomed in. His memories flashed before him—faces of comrades, unfinished conversations, regrets unspoken. The weight of what he left behind anchored him.

I inhaled sharply. "That’s why. That’s why some souls linger."

Drakos nodded. "They don’t believe in liberation. Not yet."

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Q: "How will this instruction help turn fear and chaos into clarity?"

The luminous figure’s voice was gentle.

A: "Fear comes from uncertainty. Chaos comes from resisting change. When one understands that death itself is a transition—not an end, not a punishment, but a natural unfolding—fear begins to dissolve."

Tenzin bit his lip. "But how does someone actually feel liberated in an instant? That seems… too easy."

The screen changed again.

A second soldier appeared—his body fallen beside the first, yet his soul-thread did not waver. It lifted instantly, effortlessly, disappearing into the unseen.

Drakos pointed. "See that? No hesitation. No grasping. He understood."

I blinked. "Understood what?"

The luminous figure’s voice came again.

"That in an instant, nothing holds you anymore—unless you let it."

My heart pounded.

Q: "What and how is 'complete liberation in an instant'?"

The luminous figure answered:

A: "Liberation happens when the mind lets go. When the soul ceases to grasp at what was, and surrenders fully to what is. In that moment, there is no suffering. No weight. Only lightness."

Tenzin’s eyes widened. "But… how does one just let go?"

Drakos’ gaze softened. "By realizing there is nothing to hold on to."

The Energy Wand in my hand flickered, its resonance aligning with the pulsing Energy Bar on the screen. The soldier’s soul-thread was still flickering, still unsure. The unseen weight of his past kept him bound.

A breath.

A choice.

Slowly, he turned his attention away from the battlefield, away from what he had lost.

And in that instant—

His soul-thread brightened, untangled.

And lifted.

The Cosmic Sender pulsed, sending energy across the dreamstate chamber, weaving golden filaments into the air. The sound of chanting from the Practice House resonated in the background, a harmony that guided the passing soul.

It all went silent.

I exhaled.

Tenzin blinked. "So… that’s it? That’s what it takes to be free?"

Drakos nodded. "Yes. But understanding is one thing. Accepting it, living it—well, that’s why we train."

The luminous figure on the screen gave a final nod before dissolving into light.

And the battlefield faded into darkness.