are out there.
05 June 2005 / 11:57 p.m.
tonight my grandfather died. a staph infection set up shop in his giant fiersome heart, and wore him down. he slipped into a coma at sunset; by the time the darkness fell he was gone.
the death of a mentor is a strange thing; it's left me feeling far far away from everyone.
i spoke to nippon. i told him a fragment about death that i had read in the upanishads years ago: how a man, at death, is free from pain, free from snow, and ascends to a place beyond the heavens. he told me that if we were born, and did not die, then we would not finish what we set out to do.
i believe this is true.
as sure as if we were thrown from the rim of the grand canyon at birth, we will someday die.
the last month, i have dreamed repeatedly of kali - destruction and creation from ashes of the old. i've danced with her in dreams and in the flesh over the last few weeks. i am so tired, but i am grateful. i don't think she is done with me yet.
a small inner flame which burns everywhere, which inhabits everything like a golden spark in the universal heart, like a pure sound in the universal depths, filling everything, praying everywhere, vibrating in the desert and in the stars, in pain and in joy - that, that everywhere, at the beginning and at the end, in the midst of all things: a single life born of myriad fires.
hosted by diaryland.