Don’t say why, say how.
Why presupposes an
of reason, as in truth.
in graduate school, with
wonder and growing edges
always in process,
Connecting in the same
tongue searching for the
how, puzzled by all the
All the learning not
yet used! The flying bishop,
prophetic dreams, who,
what when where how
The tip of the plow
still unearthing that
which might be now
or in the future.
Could quantum mechanics,
going with the flow, free us
to occupy a niche in
our haunted cave?
I’m still curious and
not willing to leave my
lust for understanding
back with my bones.
Should that occur, I shall
go out hollering and hope
to transition into someone
Will I go seeking absolution,
dragged down by the shackles
of sin in my swollen belly, or
ship out soundlessly from my berth
into the eternal matrix
where sins are but a fleet of
“We are here today to share in the memories of those who have passed on before us.” But what happens after we die?”
Some people believe that when they die they go to heaven and spend eternity basking in the light of God’s love.
Some people believe that when they die the fate of their soul is determined by karma’s balance sheet.
Some people believe that when they die, they will take an honored place among the ancestors where they will dispense advice to the living.
Some people believe that when they die they will reach Nirvana–a place of oneness and nothingness.
Some people believe that after they die they are reincarnated from one life to the next, learning the lessons that they need–in a state of continuous evolution.
Some people believe that when they die they will not be conscious but their atoms will join the growth of new life on Earth.
Some people believe that when they die they will be reborn into a world that cannot even be imagined.
Some people don’t know what they believe.
Which one would you vote for?
Balmorhea – The Winter
“After all, it is no more surprising to be born twice than it is to be born once.”
–Voltaire, quoted by Philip Kapleau, p. 39, The Wheel of Death.
I JUST DIED
What’s it like? Like nothing else.
I’m liquid, and by the way I am we, not me.
Not gotten used to it yet
It’s kinda like I’m my own blood stream
–or, I mean we are. Life is everywhere,
and alive. We were like bumps, sticking
out of the stew. Now we are
interchangeable, if that makes any sense.
Shut your eyes and feel the force field?
We are it.
What further heaven could people want than to become part of a tree?
(Samantha Hunt, Lapham’s Quarterly: Discovery Spring 2017, p 216)
Nan’s family photo.