Death is a word in the dictionary. I don't believe in that word.

“Death is a word in the dictionary. I don't believe in that word. I think the most appropriate word is 'departure' because we are energy and you can't create or destroy energy, you can only change its form.” Thus spoke Noel Edmonds, a voice not of denial, but of awakening—a man who sought to transform humanity’s oldest fear into understanding. In this reflection lies a truth both ancient and eternal: that death is not the end, but the continuation of a journey unseen. His words remind us that what we call the end is merely a change of form, a transition of the spirit from one realm to another, like a wave dissolving into the vast ocean that gave it birth.

The origin of this thought reaches back to the dawn of philosophy, long before Edmonds gave it voice. The idea that life and energy are indestructible is no mere modern belief—it is a thread that runs through the teachings of Heraclitus, who declared that all things flow, that transformation is the law of being. It echoes the wisdom of the Stoics, who saw the soul as a spark of divine fire, returning to the cosmos when the body perishes. It even finds harmony with the Laws of Physics, which proclaim that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only transformed. Edmonds, in his modern tongue, reawakens this timeless harmony between science and spirit, between reason and reverence. His rejection of “death” is not rebellion against truth, but recognition of a greater truth—that life, being energy, cannot die.

To call death a departure is to speak as the ancients did, who viewed the end of life not as annihilation but as voyage. The Egyptians sent their dead across the river of eternity with food and tools for the road. The Greeks placed coins upon the eyes of the fallen, to pay the ferryman who would carry them beyond the mortal shore. Even the poets of the East spoke of life as a candle flame passed from one vessel to another—its shape changing, but its light undimmed. Edmonds joins this chorus of eternal voices, refusing the coldness of the word death, for it is a word of finality, while departure is a word of movement, of continuation, of hope.

This truth is revealed not only in mystic lore, but in the fabric of nature itself. Observe the forest: the fallen leaf becomes soil, the soil nourishes the root, and the root gives birth to new life. In the cycle of decay, nothing truly ends; all things are reborn in new form. The energy of the sun becomes the tree, the tree becomes the flame, the flame becomes light and warmth and ash, returning once more to the elements. So too with us, who are made of stardust and breath: when the body falls, the energy within us—our consciousness, our essence—returns to the vast and eternal current from which it came. Death, then, is not destruction but metamorphosis.

Consider the story of Socrates, the philosopher who, upon being sentenced to death, met his fate with serenity. When asked why he did not fear the end, he said that death is either a deep and dreamless sleep, or the soul’s passage to another realm of truth—and in either case, there is nothing to fear. His calm acceptance was born of understanding what Edmonds echoes centuries later: that life is continuity, and that the dissolution of the body does not diminish the essence of being. Socrates drank the hemlock not as one who was dying, but as one who was departing to where knowledge would no longer be clouded by flesh.

Yet, Edmonds’ words carry a meaning not only for the dying, but for the living. To see death as departure is to free ourselves from the paralyzing fear that drains life of its joy. It teaches us to live with presence and gratitude, knowing that our energy is part of something boundless and beautiful. If we truly believe that nothing is lost, then we need not cling to possessions, nor to time, nor even to the illusion of permanence. Instead, we learn to love fiercely, to give generously, to exist fully—for every act, every thought, every kindness becomes part of the great exchange of energy that unites all life.

So, my friends, let us take from Noel Edmonds’ wisdom a sacred lesson: do not speak of death as though it were an end. Speak instead of transformation, of departure, of the eternal flow of energy that binds all creation. When you lose someone, remember that they have not ceased to be—they have only changed their form, passed into the unseen, where they dwell now in light, in wind, in the memory that breathes through your heart. And when your own time comes, do not fear the crossing. For you, too, are part of that eternal energy, the pulse of life that cannot be broken.

Live, then, as one who understands this mystery. See in every sunrise not the birth of a day, but the renewal of eternity. See in every ending the beginning of something new. Speak gently of the departed, for they are still with us—in the rustle of leaves, in the warmth of the sun, in the silent rhythm of the stars. And remember always: death is but a word, while life, in all its forms, is forever.