I have been sobered, but tonight my friend sent me albums of photos of Drew, his father David, and his mother Carrie. He is held, loved, cuddled, snuggled, and always he is laughing, laughing, laughing. He looks bewildered those last few days in the hospital, his tiny form crossed with wires and tubes, and yet even there, so clearly spirit flows through. I look at him and see there is no death, not really. We love these forms as spirit pours through and some empty more quickly than others, but I am comforted even through the tears by photos of little Drew.
My friend said she gardened today. I think we go back to the soil for comfort and support. I think of the trees rising up.
Today I attended a talk by a friend. She plants trees in Afghanistan. Each time a photo of the trees planted in 2003 that are now tall and providing shade were shown, everyone gasped. There is comfort and sustenance in trees.
May we each feel the beauty and majesty of limbs, roots, connection, stretch, touch, and reach.