If I Should Die Before I Wake: A Way of Life

By Erik Knud-Hansen

If I Should Die Before I Wake leads readers on a quest to understand what it means to be a human being unbound from materialistic society.

While it touches on timeless spiritual knowledge, it does not endorse any particular supreme being, or spiritual traditions reliant upon rites, rituals, dogma, or intercession. Instead, the book seeks to equip readers with the knowledge and tools they need to fulfill their spiritual destiny.

The book considers questions such as:
• Why should we pay attention to the endgame of death and dying?
• What can we learn from various spiritual traditions?
• How can we transcend sectarianism and bigotry?

The author observes that the other side of the mountain is probably not as far away as you think it is. There is a way to look inside yourself and see what is true, without taking someone else’s word for it. This is the knowledge that enlightens the mind and liberates the heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Nov 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798765228753

Erik Knud-Hansen

Erik Knud-Hansen became devoted to spiritual practice in 1972, beginning years of intensive meditation, monastic training, and helping to establish several retreat centers. As a teacher in the Buddhist lineage since 1985, he shares ways of awakening reflecting the primary traditions in which he trained—namely Buddhism, Taoism, and Advaita Vedanta. Contact Erik at www.erikknudhansen.com

Book preview

Beginningless Beginning

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A part from some nursery rhymes, this was probably the first verse I ever learned to recite. Although speaking the prayer faded away, I still consider the effect it had on me to be one of the most significant of my life. It awakened in me deep curiosity about life and death and God.

This verse is one of several versions of a common Christian bedtime prayer. As such, it is clearly meant to be a solace and pacifier for children and others before going to sleep, and so it was. Each night my family shared these prayers and asked for God’s blessing for family and friends. As I recall, I usually slept well.

I had the good fortune to be born into a family of kind and loving people. I took for granted that this was normal. My father was a navy doctor and we relocated every few years, so I often had to make new friends and let go of the old. I made peace with a constantly changing world at an early age, and this supported a kind of fluidity that has been extremely beneficial ever since.

My parents were not inclined to direct me toward any fixed idea of what I should become, and this supported my freedom to explore life outside of the norm—beyond anything they had in mind. The natural path for me would have been to become a medical doctor, as were both my father and his father. I enjoyed the sciences and had a keen interest in anatomy. I also loved puzzles, problem-solving, and fixing things. Since my father was a surgeon, I learned that problem-solving often means opening things up to see what is wrong. When I got involved in the world of meditation and self-inquiry, I formed a similar approach to looking within the human mind to understand the conditions that incline it to suffer unhappiness, ill will, and dissatisfaction.

Raised Presbyterian and politically conservative, I learned to listen carefully and follow the flock. My parents’ attitudes were neither oppressive nor dogmatic, and their moral guidance seemed right and natural. I held religious teachings and values in the highest esteem, and there was a time when I considered becoming a minister myself. I also had a strong inclination toward sharing any knowledge I found valuable with others which led me to enjoy teaching.

However, one night when I was about ten years old, something occurred that began to change everything. I began reciting my nightly prayers as usual: Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. But that night, I suddenly realized that I had never thought about what I was reciting. For the first time, I realized the possibility that I could die before I woke and so this night could be my last.

That thought caught my attention. It was not so much about the possibility of dying, as I hadn’t had any exposure to death and the concept didn’t hold much meaning for me. I believed God knew and controlled everything that happened, so it didn’t make sense to me that God could end my life while I slept and not even tell me about it beforehand. This just didn’t fit my image of a loving God, and it marked the beginning of my willingness to question what the prayers were really about.

I remember asking my parents and minister about this. I don’t recall their exact responses, but they evidently did not satisfy my curiosity. I don’t remember giving it much more thought at the time, as I was busy just dealing with adolescence. I kept attending church with my family, and there was still much about it that I liked. But my faith in the Christian view of God now had a fracture in it.

In my senior year of high school, I was a delegate to the state’s student council convention. The year was 1966, and the big topic of the day concerned the legality of reciting prayers in public schools. It was a very controversial political topic led by some motivated atheists in my home state of Maryland, so our convention focused a lot of attention on the issue. Personally, I was quite naive about this and knew very little about religion outside of my limited Christian background. When I heard about atheism for the first time, I was keenly interested. The views and arguments I heard seemed to fit well into my own evolving view, and I became an atheist myself.

Not long after this, I came across the word agnostic, and that suited me even better, as it kept the puzzle of life alive. I didn’t get very deep into this contemplation before busying myself at university and exploring my new freedoms—particularly optional class attendance. My intellectual curiosity was not inspired by the curriculum I was in, and I did not apply myself very wisely. A lot of change and growth happened for me at school, but for the most part, it was not related to academics. I became more concerned about the political issues of the day, especially regarding my government’s involvement in a war. Although my interest was more about morality than politics, I didn’t make much effort to separate them.

War and Wariness

I n 1968, I joined the antiwar movement, which centered on the conflict in Vietnam. As part of the radical student organizations, I became more aware of how naive I was about social issues. I had lived in many different places with varying views of the world, and yet, I had missed some really basic understandings about things like working-class conditions, racism, bigotry, and sexism. I became curious, however, and found ways to learn and grow at school that had little to do with going to