Death is distracting.  Eminent death is a bother.  Waiting for someone NOT to die is useless.There are philosophies of life built completely around our fear of death.  Every religion has something to say about it.  WhatEVER.

But the older I get, the more distracting: how will it happen for me?  Should I be uber-ready and get all my affairs in order?  How can I arrange it so there is NO way I get trapped in a hospital with complex debilitating procedures stuck to my veins?  I don’t really want to be cremated, as I love the faithful body this time, but I sure as hell don’t want to be imprisoned in a coffin inside a concrete box forever–separated from my dear earth.

So, I turn my eyes to the life around me and let the Divine One have Her Way with me.  There is not a tree in the world that seems to care at its demise.  Even when I walk through a field of huge torn stumps and wide long bones of these towering friends, their sweet message is to me is “we are always Home.”