I can even see the ghosts hiding in others eyes that remind me of my own ghosts. All the things, and the ghost are still there. I’ve meditated for 10 years, taken medication, use talk therapy, am part of organizations and chapters and groups. No one can stave off death for eternity and no amount of Eastern or Western medicine can preserve us or save us from the inevitable conclusion. It entices you to lay plans and strategies to confront the future when it knows you’re doomed to fail. It’s the past and the future sent to distract you from the present. The Buddhist call the void “hungry ghost” that come nipping at your heals throughout the day. I spent so much time with the void we got to know each other, and I realized the void is just like everything else in life. The void draws you in like a siren calling a doomed crew toward their jagged demise. Your rage, pain, fear, grief, happiness, joy, compassion. If you don’t know the void, I’ll paint mine for you. I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time talking with the void about mortality. No matter how strong you think you may be, time reminds us of mortality. We are attached to our feelings and attached to slices of time, holding onto them with all of our summoned might. If change comes, then magic dies and maybe part of me dies with it. I don’t want change to happen because this moment is magical. I want “this” moment to last forever, because if it stops that means change is here. The youngest first and the eldest didn’t feel like sticking around. Our youngest Dane was 10 and eldest was 12 and they departed this realm 10 days apart. I was listening to it to help work through an Uncle passing not realizing I would use the same yoga to work through our dogs passing. It’s some interesting work when you hear how it developed his mindset. I’m a big fan of Ram Dass’s work where he talks about sitting with the dying.
The best laid plans only last up to implementation.
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