Penned in my journal this Christmas morning:
In the night, I would have been as unsurprised as I can imagine if I were to leave my body. Which is to say death was in the building. Not necessarily to announce “Your table’s ready,” as Robin Williams put it, but for some other reason under the banner of “Pay attention, dear one.”
At the very least, it was a most welcome test of how I will feel when God actually does cut the string. Since our True Self does not die, the experiential prospect of bodily dissolve is primarily a call to go deeper in affirming and acting on where I aspire to place my attention always. Not that the answer to that question is unclear, but that aligning commitment with action is a never-ending practice of growing ever-greater attunement.
The visceral reminder of bodily life’s fragility and impermanence is surely one of the most loving kisses the universe gives us—and on Christmas Day to boot!
If I were to leave my present body before my handwriting, lovely as it is, reaches the end of this sentence, I shall do so with eyes ablazing and a big fat grin.
Dear Master, I bow to you in unending gratitude for this blessed incarnation in which, despite all sorts of bone-headed choices, I have always felt to one degree or another the light of God animating my existence.
Hence, why my beloved, a few years before she left her body, gave me the t-shirt that reads: Jackpot City. We all deserve to have such a t-shirt.
Mery Christmas! This is the first time I learned the gender of a Christmas Tree. Yours is beautiful!
Merry Christmas, Steve! Thinking of a theme for 2024, I know what yours will be. Or even a theme for the next week. I’m grateful for this incarnation of yours that has enriched many lives and for the thoughts you share at this point in Life.
I’m grateful you completed all these sentences, and art work, without broken strings, tangled tinsel, or other seasonal snafus. Keep making merry for many days ahead. We need you Steve!