...I stared at a burning wood fire, with my foot adjusting a remnant log so it caught more air and flared brighter, that I realized death wasn't termination or cessation ... it was transformation.
I looked upon that log's burning as a victory. The right thing had happened.
The log itself would have said, though: "I died." But "death" was the wrong word to describe what happened next. The right word was transformation.
"Next" for this particular burning log? Ash. Wood ash is unusually useful because it releases micro-nutrients and vigor into depleted soil. And new minds grow off those crops.
When your mortal body dies, you become something else.
Nothing's lost. The universe is a giant hoarder. You will always be part of it.
The ego dies, true. Yet the ego was always the cousin you didn't know how to evict. Don't mourn the ego. Yes, it contributed. But its charm is oversold.
The universe is a giant hoarder. You will always be part of it.
