I arose from dust
and I will return to dust.
How many ancestors
and descendants
carry me forward
step by step every day,
masquerading as the earth
under my feet?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
a journey of awareness
Archives
-
▼
2009
(233)
-
▼
October
(31)
- Opening Windows
- Not Mine
- Dust on Dust
- The First Time
- Untie the Knots
- First, I Must Accept
- Nothing Is Impossible
- Sometimes It Is Easier
- Blink
- Natural Separation
- Vision Test
- If I Ask a Sign
- Go and See
- Imprinted by Place
- Meeting Myself
- Something to Wonder About
- Something We Have to Do
- Four Doors
- What Part of Me?
- Rivers of Rain
- To Be Grateful
- Balancing Act
- Pain and Gratitude
- Split Mind
- A Meditation on Salvation
- Something About
- The Deaf Man's Wife
- A Pause in My Education
- The Summer That Might Have Been
- A Balanced Life
- Two Lost Companions
-
▼
October
(31)
Want to follow along?
But Wait! There's More!
Posts
About me
- HK Stewart
- I grew up in Christian fundamentalism, went to hell, came back, became a Presbyterian then a Buddhist Presbyterian, and now I'm a profane Presbyterian Zen Taoist -- not that I'm into labels or anything. Here's what I've learned so far: The more you know, the more you know you don't know.
2 comments:
The Business of Dust
They make a business of birth. Whether clinical or natural, whether induced or caesarian, videotaped by an anxious father, the womb uncouples its lock and screaming transfers to the baby. The umbilical cord is clipped, the placenta dumped into a pan, and all blood transfusions have a fixed price, the first installment on the cost of raising children.
They make a business of love. Greeting cards and flowers, perfumes and candies adorn a courtship long enough for the couple to snuggle up to one another and cuddle in friendship. Nut even in sincere relationships, everything has a price and somebody is out to make a profit. That small wedding, two weeks after the announcement, becomes a gathering of over one hundred people.
They make a business of death. If nobody claims the body, the state determines how to dispose of it. If a gravestone has not been purchased in advance, or an executor named for the estate, a common grave takes its Mozart. Inside the ash some bones will not burn. No matter how anybody might wish to go, dust has a price when it’s time to fling it into the sea.
Disposable Prose October 29, 2009]
Dr. Mike
Actually, very few human ancestors become the dust under our feet. Why? Because we pump them with embalming fluid and stick them in a box in a hole in the ground.
Post a Comment