I can't bare to turn my heat too high, so my house is not exactly comfortable though I'm wearing layers of wool. What I realized as lunch-time approached is that I needed to eat not because it was time, or it sounded fun, or my imagination was at work, but because my body needed fuel. I am a furnace, a machine, so I just enjoyed a bowl of turkey chili and added cheddar cheese and sour cream, and it all felt necessary and right.
To continue, my posts on this subject of allowing death a landing of grace, I give you a "death poem" which I will explain in the next post.
my obituary -
let it read:
loved poems, ate persimmons.
Shiki (19 century Japanese haiku poet