I used to be afraid of losing my eyesight, but there is so much more I see even more clearly when I close my eyes. I used to be afraid of losing my hearing , but there is so much to hear in the peace of silence.  I used to be afraid of losing my speech, but I have said enough already, I sing favorite songs in my head, and I say “I love you” to others with my eyes.

I used to be afraid of losing my creativity and imagination, but every morning brings a new canvas and a fresh palette to create my day. I used to be afraid of losing my health, but I have learned it was that fear of losing it that was ruining it. I used to be afraid of dying with the thought of blackness and nothingness as horrific as being buried alive; I now only fear the pain of leaving my grandchildren and not seeing them explore their world, so I help them explore it now before my mortal coil is spent.

I look at my everyday now as time to plant seeds as Johnny Appleseed did to allow others to nurture and care for. When I lay down my head at night and say my St. Frances prayer : “ Lord make me an instrument of your Peace” I mean it. I give thanks for another day with much gratitude for yesterday. I truly now anticipate the great adventure called death as I do my dreamworld. I am prepared for either one and have no fear of nightmares, hellfire, or infinite blackness, only the warmth of pure love. 

 So let the dreams come… be they fancy or be they death, I have no regrets, the dance continues.

We are the stream that joins the river a confluence not measured in human days. We merge, emerge, and reemerge, charged particles in a dance of romance. Life is never a certain path, only chaos that needs a chance. Life is what you make it with the ingredients you are given, the recipe is not written in stone, it’s made by how you are living.

We will have guides who lead the way as we embrace each new tomorrow with it pain and with its joy. Each new day a steppingstone to joy that can neutralize impending sorrow. For joy demands her day in court; we cannot let sorrow win. To do so is antithetical, death is not a sin.

A final rest is a generated myth perpetuated by the ignorance of basics physics. There is nothing new under the sun and nothing is ever lost. We create our own story continually; we are starlight in manifest; We do not rest in peace. When we shuffle off this mortal coil we again merge with the grandfathers/grandmothers before us and with them together we soar in peace. 

“ To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
…Must give us pause. ”

– William Shakespeare