Meditation; Death & Impermanence

[slowlyunfolding]

Yes, that is one heavy title. I know. This is part of my yoga training. So, no need for a freak out and trying to contact me or LJ. 

Here's where I stand so far on this topic:

feelings

• denial
• guilt
• fear
• sadness
• anger
• a general botheration

I've been surrounded by death my whole life. Having a dad who was a gravedigger does that for a person. I played in the cemetary while dad worked when I was on summer vacation because we couldn't afford a babysitter. There is a split between play/childness and seriousness/adult worlds. The boundaries collided a lot for me until they weren't boundaries anymore.

I remember standing on the front seat of my dad's pickup truck (I was small enough that my head didn't touch the roof), watching a funeral in progress, and asking why those people were so upset. I completely understood the person was dead and was inside the coffin. I just didn't understand why people would be upset once they left their body. Dad simply thought I didn't understand death. Should I mention that dad let me play in open graves? They are just holes in the ground. Nothing spooky or gross. 

Perhaps having a dad as a gravedigger made me a more cautious teen. I just assumed I was going to die, probably before I got out of that narrow minded little town. I figured if I was reckless, then death would notice and make an example out of me. When I was really little I stuck a little plastic orange monkey I got in one of those gumball type machines in a grave. I have no idea why I did that. Just felt like it.

The loops and patterns that I've noticed that crop up:

I'm going to

• change the world
• make a difference
• somebody will notice me
• somebody will remember me
• I am special

When, in reality, I'm just one human being. Breathing in and out every day and night. Until that time comes when I won't anymore. The hardest part is realizing and acknowledging that everyone I know will also one day die.

The fact that spring is starting to show her green blush is also making this meditation much more poignant. I am transported by the wind, the blue sky and the green nimbus of treetops. Knowing and believing that I won't be a part of this cycle forever and ever makes this spring more vibrant, more delicate, more real. I'm here for this moment.

As long as I'm alive, I'm going to eat the fruit and let the juice run down my arm.