Lives are ending all around me and I am drawn into a quiet space. The cold of winter beckons me to slow down, be still and deepen into my being like the Bear. Take pause; listen to the softness of each breath and feel the richness of rest. These are contemplative days, each moment arising as a bright gift to be cherished and never neglected. The things of my life are beautiful and one day I will leave them, sadly yet filled with awe at the freedom of surrender to the next movement of energy outside of this physical place.
I don't know where the dead go; I only know that they go somewhere. I have glimpsed it. I remember it as if it happened yesterday. For the dead, it is miraculous; for the living, it is mysterious.
The recent death of a friend has flung me to a new level of connection with death. I can't say what's different this time than previous times my beloveds have died. I can only say that something is. Perhaps it's me.
Suddenly, every tiny bit of my life is magnified as a magical encounter never to be repeated. How special that is. How lucky I am. How grateful is my heart to behold each bit as sacred, with love. Today I am full.
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