There are times I wonder what awaits me in the future.. Whenever it starts to scare me, I remind myself that death is really the beginning of something new.
How someone bereaved feels and how they choose to, or very often just do, act is valid, even if, to an outsider, they seem to have lost control.
When you are at your best, you make us come to the paradox that we are insignificant and magnificent, nothing and everything at the same time.
You can either architect 'matter' unconsciously, as most of us do most of the time, or begin to take responsibility for everything, including this virus.
As one’s well-worn shoes can prompt visceral depths of loss, the same is evoked by Hemingway’s tragic story using shoes to depict a life never lived.
Now and again, in the nature of 'descansos', I find myself mourning those parts of myself that left due to hardships beyond my control.
In my real home, elephant deaths are a complex and beautiful affair. We honor our loved ones, just as humans do. I was robbed of this rite of passage.