I took a contemplative walk through Woodlawn Cemetery in Santa Monica yesterday. I found myself in an area filled mostly with children and babies who’d died in the 1930s. Oof. Gravestones inscribed sweetly with “our…” and “beloved…”
I thought about how suddenly and deeply we become beloveds to others, and others to us. Then gone. I reflected on the fact that those for whom these children were beloved are, too, now gone.
I recently completed a self-guided online course on death, and started another. I recommend both as a beautiful, manageable ways to snuggle up to hard things.
Bristlecone pines are the only living species that contain dead, living, and petrified matter within them. They’re super old species; pretty gnarled, pretty cool. Gorgeous and mystifying.
We earthlings also have this capacity: to be present — alive — at the same time we witness our past (and others’ — buried beloveds, e.g.) and contemplate our own future end. It’s a lot, but it’s special.
Everything’s a lot right now. Take a god damn moment. Let us take good care of ourselves. <3
Excerpt from “The Old Mendicant” by Thich Nhat Hanh, in Call Me By My True Names.