Wednesday, September 3, 2014

"he died, doing what he loved."

by truebu t. hesdead

sooooooooooooooooo…i’m out on the back deck, surrounded by hummingbirds (attacking, defending, posturing, loving), yet also surrounded by lightning bolts…

…half-wishing that the big one would blast on down, you know, the kind of lightning bolt that gives you the NDE, or even the DE.

…and then, the thought fluctuated, as: “well, at least they’d know that i died doing what i loved.”

…but then, almost as quickly and invasive-ly: “…but why not live doing what you love?”  

…and then, of course, came the reply: “…but you are.  it's just that you might die, doing it!”

…and then it all made sense, somehow.

my family/friends: do as much of what you love, now: with those who you love, in the places that you love, during the times of the year that you love… and Love it!

then, when we (event-u-al-ly) die, they can say: “but at least s/he lived, doing what s/he loved.”

(or something like that)

[i] martino, j. (9.3.-1.14).  round trip © 2014 by