First Death
It may be a blessing.
I remember my first death, sitting slumped over and skewered by the spear I had thrust myself upon by devoting my life to owning, to controlling, to perfecting, to needless searching for the gift of being, which I only realized at last breath had been bestowed upon me at birth. There is no death more unceremonious, nor more traumatic, than that very first one. And now I realize I must die a death each day while descending the ladder of consciousness to the very core of my being, so that I may rediscover the love my infant self brought into this world.
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- Jonah · November 21‹ No JudgmentEmbodied Love ›