Just like my dad, I talk to my old dog about heading for the door, letting go of this life, and he sparks up and revives.  His legs are working, he’s got a tiny lift in his step and even gave a little whorly “we’re home!” howl on the way back from his walk.  This is often the gift of a near-death experience: we want to stay.

It reminds me of the resilience of the grass, vitality of the screaming crow, singularity of the snake-bark slender tree.  I’m not sure if the next life has these things, probably other spectacular phenomena, but the brilliance of everything is the same and everything is completely always different certainly is a facet of earth-life from human eyes.

I am recognizing the familiarity of ancestral worship.  Maybe it is those who were here in the past that whisper from beyond the veil: “EnJOY yourself!  The earth is beautiful.  YOU are beautiful!  Swim in that beauty.”

Indulging in grace, right here, right now, I’m doing the back float in bliss.