Monday, January 11, 2016
Where we go who knows
Martyn saw this bird fly into the living room window and he brought it to me, knowing my habit of recording the creature as my homage to it.
It seemed almost appropriate to be looking at the wing span of this animal, still as can be, once able to lift this feathered body off the ground and high into the sky. Appropriate because there was much talk this morning on the air and cyber waves about the death of David Bowie. I heard it last night just before going to bed and was as shocked as anyone. One person made a comment that I had also made to Martyn,
"This is going to be the beginning of a long list of goodbyes for the people whose music we've grown up with."
Another woman stated she hoped Bowie had found God before his death even though he had once stated years ago he was almost an atheist. I found that so...annoying, really. Why should she be concerned if David Bowie 'found God'? What would happen if someone really discovered without a doubt there was no God, no after life that some believe is there-the kind of afterlife where we all see our favorite family members and pets-what if it is just...the end. And you are dust, without any emotion, memory, soul, energy. What if this is all there is, this life here. I have come to the decision that it is worth it. This life is worth it even if when I take my last breath that's it. In fact, it almost makes life even more meaningful and precious.
The farm has given me the opportunity to see death, and experience it, in a much different way than when I lived in the city with a couple of pets. While I've always been spiritual, I never was religious, but I do believe there is more after we die. I have no proof of it other than the feelings, sensations, visits, and sixth senses I have had over my fifty seven years. But, living on the farm, holding death so many times in my hands, burying an animal and hearing the dirt hit its body, I now see what will happen after I die. My body will be gone. But some people will remember me, and miss me even, but their lives will go on-just as mine has always gone on after losing my parents, and so many Misfits. It shouldn't really matter what happens to me after I die, as far as those living, because they are here no to live.
But if I die and that's it, I won't know anyway, will I? So I strive to do my work every day and do my best. I intentionally look up at the beautiful fog engulfed trees as I did this morning on my walk, and give a internal Wow. And while I take notice of the beautiful wings and markings of a dead bird, it is always the living I return to.