Pacha

Walking through the doorway into another chapter of life, that is a 'pacha', a place, a transition.

Though I did not physically die today, I've died lately, have written my eulogy, have passed through one death and into a new chapter of life.   After this very real process where I was under a black shroud and heard my eulogy read and 'kitchen talk' about me, I had a talk with my Significant Other.  I had to say to him, "if I die before you do, remember:  I'm not really gone.  I'm still here, in the everything of everything".

And tonight I came across this poem which summed it up for me right smartly:

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 awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.


The Song of Amergin (one translation)

II am a stag of seven tines,
I am a wide flood on a plain,
I am a wind on the deep waters,
I am a shining tear of the sun,
I am a hawk on a cliff,
I am fair among flowers,
I am a god who sets the head afire with smoke,
I am a battle-waging spear,
I am a salmon in a pool,
I am a hill of poetry,
I am a ruthless boar,
I am a threatening noise,
I am a wave of the sea,
Who but I knows the secrets of the unhewen dolmen?

I am the womb of every holt,
I am the blaze on every hill,
I am the queen of every hive,
I am the shield to every head,
I am the tomb to every hope.