A long walk.
A cold wind raced off the choppy ocean and sucked all the heat out of me.
Later on, Earl grey condensed on my glasses, I look at the treasure I found. A beautiful piece of driftwood. a perfect skimming stone, and a broken shell.
It's hard to place the things one has irretrievably lost in memory. Where to keep those memories, how do they live on if not in reality, in our minds? I am aware what a privilege it is to hold someone precious, and to have been held by them intimately. Death is difficult to handle when it is someone who has played a part in changing your life, as one does not know where the life goes, or where their love goes. It's just gone. Sometimes it makes me frustrated and sda. Sometimes I imagine what that person would say if they knew I was feeling so. Sometimes I quietly, calmly contemplate what death means.
Death is life. It can be as simple as that. Thoughts on death can be positive, and time changes the way we handle the emotions that death causes in us. When someone close to you passes, it is an experience of space-like dimensions, where infinity, purpose, spirit, and the soul are composed into a mix of complex dimensions and somewhat unattainable answers.
I think about the universe when I think about death. I think about how I come from a long line of ancestors, whom themselves have died but never knew me. I will never know my great, great, great, great grandfather or grandchild.
Its almost like I can feel the history that exists within me. My ancestors existing within me, on spirals of time. Souls cycling the epic of existence... calling to me, to reconsider all I thought spiritual.. to redefine the forces that rule me. To resurrect the codes of consciousness within my being. To leave behind a legacy to people who do not necessarily share my immediate reality but who will inevitably be influenced by it. To restore beauty through value of life, help others to restore theirs, to find out who I am, and discover what I am.
Later on, Earl grey condensed on my glasses, I look at the treasure I found. A beautiful piece of driftwood. a perfect skimming stone, and a broken shell.
It's hard to place the things one has irretrievably lost in memory. Where to keep those memories, how do they live on if not in reality, in our minds? I am aware what a privilege it is to hold someone precious, and to have been held by them intimately. Death is difficult to handle when it is someone who has played a part in changing your life, as one does not know where the life goes, or where their love goes. It's just gone. Sometimes it makes me frustrated and sda. Sometimes I imagine what that person would say if they knew I was feeling so. Sometimes I quietly, calmly contemplate what death means.
Death is life. It can be as simple as that. Thoughts on death can be positive, and time changes the way we handle the emotions that death causes in us. When someone close to you passes, it is an experience of space-like dimensions, where infinity, purpose, spirit, and the soul are composed into a mix of complex dimensions and somewhat unattainable answers.
I think about the universe when I think about death. I think about how I come from a long line of ancestors, whom themselves have died but never knew me. I will never know my great, great, great, great grandfather or grandchild.
Its almost like I can feel the history that exists within me. My ancestors existing within me, on spirals of time. Souls cycling the epic of existence... calling to me, to reconsider all I thought spiritual.. to redefine the forces that rule me. To resurrect the codes of consciousness within my being. To leave behind a legacy to people who do not necessarily share my immediate reality but who will inevitably be influenced by it. To restore beauty through value of life, help others to restore theirs, to find out who I am, and discover what I am.
