I’m in fine health, but you can’t do as many funerals as I do, without thinking about your own. I want to go on record as saying that, if I get hit by a meteor this week, I want some poems like this one by Mary Elizabeth Frye that celebrates the body’s return to nature:
Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.
I don’t believe in invisible people, or other worlds. I believe symbols like heaven should awaken us to a depth within this life, not distract us with tales of another. I do believe that life is eternal, but I have no desire to get stuck in this one form. I’m happy if my water goes into streams and my breath goes in and out of plants and animals. It’s not that I don’t believe in an afterlife. It’s that I think this life, this belief that we are separate beings, is an illusion. There is one life and it is implicit in the cosmos. Before we were born, that’s where we were. When we die, that’s where we “go.”
I want some great wisdom readings from around the world, some great music (rock only please), but then I want some good comedy. I’ve just started planning, but I think I want things like the following: