Page five #168. For me this poem speaks to embracing rather than fighting the good fight, until death overwhelms you. I think it speaks to embracing the illness that may one day claim my life. embracing the pain, the physical, the emotional pain. Embracing our spiritual essence that is epitomized through yielding to the inevitable, regardless of how long we struggle to stay above water in the air of life, and give way to the beauty of spiritually allowing ourselves to drift and yield into death's waters. Whether we face the chronic decline of death through cancer or an acute death in say a fatal car accident, yielding and letting go just prior to death allows us to release from mortal issues, partners, children, finances, etc. During death it is time to let all of life's issues fall by the wayside. Still most in the Anglo Western World find this extremely difficult to do. They cling and fight the good fight, they cling to children, partners, and life's mundane issues. In doing so we miss out on the most significant experience of our life, our death. Like yin & yang. Missing out on yielding to death, causes us to leave life with unfinished business. All of which some say might cause us to return yet again until we get this death thing right, and move on.
Experiencing death alongside someone who is embracing it fully, undistracted by earthly concerns versus someone caught up in earthly issues is a humbling, and spiritually deep experience. If your lucky enough to be with someone when they pass, you might even intangibly sense their spiritual essence leaving their body. This spiritual essence is a universal one, not mired in religious faith or ideology, spiritual death is beyond such trivial issues such as what religion one is or isn't associated with. Death is simply death, it does not discriminate based on ones spiritual or religious views or lack thereof.
All of this is what I think of when I wrote and now read this poem. If we can drift away like cherry blossoms from a tree, we can be open to what lies beyond life, heaven, hell, or otherwise. Or we can resist it like a rock sinking into a river. Only to be picked up once again and thrown back in again till we get it right. Then, once getting it right we drift, as if we're blossoms in the wind or on a river being carried down stream or across a field into another place, into the beyond.
This isn't what I believe, nor is this what my faith tells me, it's what I know.
most beautiful death
life epitomized while yielding
drifting cherry blossoms
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