Living is creative joy, but death can be beautiful too if you know that the soul merges with eternal being like autumn leaves falling, drifting down to land softly in the calmly flowing river, the sunlight dancing on the surface, the leaf floating effortlessly, casting its lurking shadow on the bottom of the river over the swaying algae…just as we cast our lives into the ancestral flow in the end like fallen leaves adorning the forest floor.

In our lives, we can be loving, because we need love.  And we can be destructive because we thrive on fear.  The soul is nourished by challenge, and what is adversity without the intensity that evokes our fears, calling them to surface from the abysmal depths of the unknown…

The struggle fuels the journey, but the real heroic quest lies within to cultivate seeds of compassion, to transform wounds into bliss so that finally, when we face death, even the tiny dyings that happen day by day, the rhythmic vibration of our souls will echo triumphantly through the blood of those who dwell in tomorrow, and the future hands and minds that might have wrought more pain will instead craft wondrous cultures overflowing with art.  

Part of being born is to forget all this, to live fresh and unencumbered by the creative void of the past.  But the greater being living in you remembers all too well, hoping desperately to mold you into a creative force of gravitational love during this mighty sojourn of the soul.