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In spring green fields become pregnant with big yellow blooms that in all their botanical strength, reach upward to their life giving orb. And on the fateful day that that sun takes them back from the earth, who in the singing heat of death do they have to be angry at? No one. The tragedy of life is not that we are given so little time but that we waste our time with unworthy things.

If every day we notice the trailing figure of death, honor the length of his trail, and recognize that one day he will be upon us, death will be timely. For our physical selves, if we just remember to touch and to know what it is to be touched. If we let ourselves know the feeling of the close heat and the soft breathing of someone else mixing with our own. If we remember to take the sun like the flowers and like the lake, take back the sun into the whole of your body so that from our fingertips and eyelids, we can share it. If we look into a reflection and reach through to the unknown. If we let ourselves see the world and not just touch it but feel it. Then death becomes the very last thing to know, the last exploration and sensation, and will be as or more beautiful than all of these things.

We come onto this journey with one promise, that is our physical self. There is no security that without attention our souls might slip away or that our emotions will fade from lack of use. This is the death that deserves fear and the one that can be controlled. Preservation is simple. As in anything else precious, hold that ability to have emotion close. Like a warm blanket, cover yourself in it. When others sweep it under the rug, use it to sweep the ogres out the door. Wear it like a pendant and never be ashamed. If ever in the journey of life we drop that ability, death takes its place.

Like bees and ants, we are social creatures, and we cannot deny that of or to ourselves. Enjoy not just our own actions but the reactions. Note the ripples that we cause in other lives. Talk to strangers. Don't forget to love. Pet little dogs. Exercise that privilege of community and family with unabashed energy at every chance everyday. Their is always fear that by inviting someone else into our lives they might take something away; but that part of us regenerates (like liver and planarian!) the more we give the more there is to give. So here, death is not in the physical dying but in the neglecting, we let ourselves die.

Our lives are possessions that require constant attention and care. However the directions are easy. Remember to have fun, give, hold things when they need to be held, and cry when we need to cry. If we keep the fear of that inner death constant, than immortality is not that hard. By loving life, we can go to death "like one who wraps the drapery of his couch around him and lies down to pleasant dreams"

Written by a girl named Sunday

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