Mortality is so difficult. Even at my age. For someone who was raised to believe that “Millions Now Living Will Never Die”, my fondest hope was that I’d be one of those people. And yes, I was raised to believe that, truly. It feels like I was robbed of my immortality, to accept that I never actually had it is conceivable to my brain but hard to wrap my heart around.
I was raised to believe I’d never have to lose my parents or sister to death either, that as long as we remained faithful to Jehovah God that we all would have a chance to “live forever on paradise earth”. My fondest plans were that someday, when the work of cleaning up the earth and returning her to paradise form, I’d be able to walk the entire planet and sail all the seas. To explore and take my time, to settle down in a little perfect spot should I find one, and when I was ready a few decades later, to keep walking.
Perhaps that’s why I still long so dearly to leave the cities behind and get on the road. And I will. Even if it’s for limited stretches of time. Because as much as I hate it, I am mortal, and some day will be worm food.
For years I’ve struggled with being mortal. Life is too precious and full of possibilities for it to be so short. But perhaps the fact it ends is what makes it even more precious. And none of us really just go away, either. Energy never dies. In ways, I am the life of every one of my ancestors and millions of nameless people and animals and trees and other living things. We all are.
And then we go back to our nine-to-fives and the daily drudge of working to put food on the table and a roof over our heads and forget how interconnected EVERYTHING is. And will always be.
So if I can make a difference in some lives, if I can help someone see the brilliant illumination they are when they shine under the stars, then my days can be innumerable. If someone smiles at the full moon and thinks of me I still live.
So I hold my wildness close to my chest and try to bury an ember of me in the hearts of everyone I love, and have a glimpse of immortality.
A Burd in Flight 