We have to eat the world slowly. Ten years, 25 years, forty years, 62 years, 95 years. No rush. Small bites. This world is an overpowering place capable of squeezing the life out of you while all the while you are laughing with extreme joyful pleasure. We each get a single experience called life, but it is such a vast and complex experience that we must break it into bits to relish the fullness, or not. Some of my friends lay dying. Life is streaming out of their pores with such speed all they can do is gasp and try to catch the back drafts as it speeds by.
The created body determined to return to divine chaos, unravels every single cell with certainty and precision in a timely fashion, to resume its place in the eternal circle of light and inspiration.
What is death but a passing cloud like a vacuum that sweeps the terrain for ended experiences? A cloud to collect the debris of mortal activities sans preference for color or understanding. It just collects and deposits the bits back to their original places, Places before the experiment with life.
That ringing in my ear, incessant. When it stops I shall be taken aback. I am nothing without the ringing. It centers me, it signals that I am still within the experience, the physical, the flawed, and the intrepid nature I possess. My chaos lives with me as a reminder that I am on loan, that I was granted the experience for the sheer pleasure of seeing God at work. I couldn’t see it when I was with Him in the light.
To be mortal, to live, to die, to return maybe to come again; I don’t know that for certain as I am still within the experience.
Be worthy of your experience.