The winter day is crispy outside my window. A little bird is dancing in the air between the feeding spots, and the sunlight floods the naked trees in nuances of orange and peach.
The sound of one of the cats eating. Except that, silence is all I hear this morning.
«Life goes on without me».
There is a lyrics from a silly, old song. This line has been coming up in me now, and also when I first got cancer, more than two years ago.
Maybe it sounds like a sad thought, but it is not.
There is a relief in me, with this sentence; «life goes on without me».
This body will die, but life lives on – the planets will float in their paths, stars will get born and fall, my friends and family will still dance in the leela of life; laughing, crying, experiencing, sharing… My children will live on, children of universe itself. Life doesn’t stop with me.
I was born into this body, and I will leave it again.
Like a star that is born, will die – or like a flower, a butterfly or a whale… what come, will also go. It is all part of life, of the big Unknown.
Today, the very thought of clinging seems funny. How can I believe that life is something I can hold on to, or life and death is something I can fight?
Of all the billions of human beings who have lived on this planet through the ages; none have been immortal. None have lived without the loss of someone they love, and their own beloved body. Death is a basic fact of life.
Why should I be different? Why should I be more special, or more important – than anyone or anything else?
We are all so beautiful, shining and fragile beings – when we are real, when we shine through our protections, when our shells break – and our being reveals.
It is so precious, this human life. The whole universe lives in us.
But nothing is in my hands and nothing belongs to me.
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