A morning thought…


Ashes to ashes to butterfly or hummingbird or human again

I experience neither discomfort nor fear in contemplation of what is next.

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patti dawn swansson

If, that is, there is a next.

I surely subscribe to the notion that there exists life on the other side, that this human experience is but a brief way stop the soul undertakes on a journey that has no beginning and no end. It is, as the Hindus teach, like the garments that adorn us here on earth: “Just as man discards worn out clothes and puts on new clothes, the soul discards worn out bodies and wears new ones.”

Similarly, the spirit does not die. It is as the petals of the rose which have withered and fallen. We are left with a stem full of thorns. Yet, we can still see and feel the beauty of the rose. So it is with our dear ones who have moved on. We often will hear someone at a gathering say that a deceased friend or family member is “still with us in spirit” or “she is still here in spirit.” We recall them fondly. We think about them. We talk about them. We laugh about them. Their spirit lingers in our hearts and minds, many years after their physical realm has disappeared.

In that sense, the spirit is not a link to a godsome belief, but, rather, a continuum of non-physical connectedness.

So, if the soul survives to wear another body and the spirit lingers, both here on the mortal coil and in the great beyond, what is to fear in our own passing?

Only if one is bound by a religious belief system that trumpets the glory of passage through a pearly portal into an awaiting heaven and, at the same time, delivers dire caution of eternal hell fires, can there be dread.

Even if, by chance, I’m mistaken and there is one Almighty who sits in judgment and she or he asks of me, “What did you do with your life on earth?” I shall be obliged to reply, “You mean to tell me you don’t know? You mean to tell me that you really aren’t all-seeing, all-hearing and all-knowing? If that’s the case, I didn’t do anything that you wouldn’t have done yourself. So, step aside, I’m a-coming through your pearly gates and I’ll take a pair of angel wings, size small/medium.”

I shall simply hope that the Almighty has an appetite for a bit of earthy cheekiness.

Whatever the case, I am not predisposed to the despair others experience as the inevitability of transference from one life to the next moves closer to the front burner of consciousness. More to the point, I have begun to assume the posture of preparedness, whereby I shall leave little or naught to chance or misinterpretation.

It’s not that I’m anxious to move on. I’m rather enjoying this human experience. But the brevity of life is not lost on the long-in-tooth, thus readiness is requisite and I am unafraid to discuss, and deal with, matters of mortality.

Since I am without monetary wealth and my material possessions, although providing homey comfort, are minimal and pauperish and not at all squabble-worthy, the writing of a legal will strikes me as an unnecessary exercise. I recently completed one nonetheless. I have also investigated the procedure and costs of cremation.

My departure shall be simple: Burn, baby, burn, then have someone distribute the ashes among a select circle of dear ones, whereupon they can spread them in suitable locales of their choosing.

That will be rather fitting, I like to think, since I’ve been all over the map (figuratively, if not literally) in this lifetime.

So, I’m almost good to go. I just hope there’s a body out there that’s looking for a kind and gentle soul in need of a good home when my time arrives. Another human experience would be nice, although I shant be picky. A butterfly or a humming bird would be nice, too. As long as it’s female, I’m happy.