The Worms Go In, the Worms Go Out

There was a rhyme somewhere in my childhood and the two lines I recall were:
The worms go in, the worms go out, the worms play pinochle on your snout…

This seems appropriate for a Halloween submission to my blog's evolution.  I've spoken a lot recently about my metaphysical quest. In the meantime (while waiting for the universe to sync up), I have been in conversation with my writing teacher about composting.  She bought worms (on Amazon) and was sharing details of the process of creating an environment to allow the worms to work the food scraps and be able to use the resulting compost for her garden.

That got me thinking about carbon footprints and whether I want to decrease mine.
Gee, I don't know.

Considering the tonnage of pseudo recyclable materials set to curb side every week, my efforts are not without flaws.

I can't seem to want to live green.  Global warming discussions are wasted on me. I am decidedly
uninformed regarding alternative living options; without garbage. I pass junk yards and land fills and think "oh". But it doesn't sink in.  I just added to that problem recently and had my car crushed and eaten by a giant machine.  The 150 bucks in my pocket seemed to validate that decision.

Well, the topic is uncomfortable, so I will not continue.  However, regarding my bodily demise,
I think I will welcome the worms and aphids.  I've already pre planned my funeral and there won't be one.

As soon as the ink dries on the document I haven't signed yet, I'll be ashes to ashes with the intent of
nurturing a young White Birch or Aspen tree.  That seems like a beautiful tribute to myself and the life I loved in the Colorado Rocky Mountains.

The cost of shipping the former me will be nominal and I have already designated my brother as my executor. He will be waiting at the mailbox for me to arrive.

I hope that the occasion will not be somber for I have requested an illegal fireworks display to precede the deed. Only those in attendance will know the designated plot of land (invitations will be mailed by my probate lawyer) so keep those sky miles accounts in good order.

I know a little about a lot of things cadavers are used for and I don't think that I wish to support the advance of science.  It's too advanced already in my opinion.  Once "Dolly" the sheep made her appearance on planet earth, we crossed the line. There's just no sanctity remaining in the value of a human life.

On the other hand there is too much sanctity given the inordinate expense of a traditional funeral; picking out a casket, selecting a funeral home, a location for final goodbyes, blah, blah, blah.

No thank you.  I remember helping Dad select Mom's casket while she was still breathing.  That was early on in the pre planning funeral business.  We picked the most expensive one with powder blue lining and double or triple lined oak to preserve her remains.  In conversation with her before her death, she made a request that we dress her warmly to include shoes (which the funeral home denied).

Her mother wanted just a pine box. I don't want that much.  You see, I'm just not that important.

I began this journey not of my own accord and I will conclude this portion of the predestined trip
at the place and time as set forth in the universal contract. Lovely that the way I leave is entirely up to me.  It's about the only decision I will have control over.  Trusting in my fellow man to honor my final wishes is, of course, the variable in the equation.

Should it all go as planned, my soul will depart on the recitation of these endearing words:


"Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by,
For you may be the next one to die.
They wrap you up in big white sheets
and cover you from head to feet.
They put you in a big black box
And cover you with dirt and rocks.
All goes well for about a week,
Until your coffin begins to leak.
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
The worms play pinochle on your snout,
They eat your eyes, they eat your nose,
They eat the jelly between your toes.
A big green worm with rolling eyes
Crawls in your stomach and out your sides.
Your stomach turns a slimy green,
And pus pours out like whipping cream.
You'll spread it on a slice of bread,
And that's what you eat when you are dead."^[4]

Parts

Am I the sum total of my parts or am I part of the sum total?  Play on words?  Perhaps.  This is my thought today: my being is rather small in comparison to recent astronomical discoveries.  My mass would be calculated as a negative integer, I think, on the grand scale of things.

It is exciting to learn about the expanding universe. It gives me immeasurable hope that I am also infinite.  Where did I begin and where am I destined?

An unsolvable problem, for the value of "x" cannot be defined on either side of the equation. Maybe it's not meant to. Maybe there's an element so critical to the journey of one's life, its discovery would jeopardize its purpose.  Maybe the "God" complex is so controversial, that its continuance should be banished.

I am not in favor of extending the natural life span. I am, however in favor of enhancing the experience. Quality of life versus quantity of life.  The scale has tipped the other way for me and I am so comfortable with it, that remaining time is no longer my biggest fear.

The evolutionary process which sustains species, through adaption of the environment, will challenge science and it will win. Its track record is undeniable. Whether my specie survives is an open ended quest. But, all the "break throughs" in the realm of dedicated science will not change the soul.

How do you define yourself?  As others see you or as the soul who fulfills its predestined design? I choose the latter because I am not so conceited as to think that I had any choice in the matter. Being open to possibilities far beyond my present physicality has given me the freedom to re-prioritize

each day's gift. Realizing that this journey is not dependent on how I choose to live it and is not self-limiting within the confines of a spiritual heir achy, I am joyous in the moment.

The shaman relayed the following message:  "You are the truth".  That was an uncomfortable realization. I took it to mean that my travels thus far have culminated in my being validated; that my existence is for the benefit of others. How freeing it was to release all guilt that I have not done enough; that I AM enough, I am complete in my passage.

There are more lessons on the horizon. The existential travel I experienced, while in her presence, reconfirmed my belief that I am just a part, a fragmentarily painted canvas. I have been in the dark, protected by universal love and have guided souls (who have done their work) into the light.

So, again the question : Am I the sum total of my parts or am I part of the sum total? The question is not important, the answer is not either or. The journey is not limiting, the destination is not finite for the soul is the solution for "x".

Fractured

Listening to National Public Radio in the car yesterday, my life was interrupted by the discussion on the topic of "digital funerals".  I need to stream that program again.  Did I understand that I need not be present, that my death would no longer inconvenience friends and loved ones who were too busy to attend a physical memorial service?

WHAT THE HELL.

When did I become digitized to the exclusion of my blood and bones?  When did you? Is the physical body so disposable that the death of it is no longer at the center of deepest loss?

As for me, I am not your digitized scrapbook.  Those pictures are tiny fragments of my life. They don't tell the whole story.  They're not meant to and I don't want you to give permission to my digital executor for their eventual release.

If I was important in your life or if you are relieved not to have me here anymore, my wish is for you to honor what we had by taking the time and effort to send me into the universe permanently.
I fully expect you to stop everything you are doing at the moment you are notified and make plans to
get to the designated place at the designated time.

I can't imagine not having attended the funerals for those I loved.  The pain was exquisitely
essential in my soul's journey.  Knowing that their voice, their smell, their touch would never
come again, allowed me closure.  The closure allowed me to breathe again. Loss is the deepest personal
emotion for me; more so than joy. Loss teaches me how to be a kinder person, a more loving woman, a more tolerant human being.

I don't want the burden of revisiting memories.  Life has enough interruptions as it is.  Balancing the high wire of what-ifs is not my style. Remembering and honoring one's memory are not synonymous.

Being thankful for relationships and wanting to relive them is not the same.  I choose to be thankful and refuse to dwell on how my life was changed or enhanced or nearly destroyed. I let go and focus on today.

Do I still mourn?  Of course-sometimes decades later. Do I have tangible remembrances?  Yes.  Do I want to click and relive moments?  No, I do not.

Do not define me in fragments. I gave you all I was. My relationship with you was not meant to be shared. My time with you was not meant to be compared to my time with any other. Understand that you were singularly important in my life and in my life's purpose. Promise me that my entirety will not end up like pieces in a digital jigsaw puzzle.  Promise me that your heart will have sufficient space to be the caretaker of our time together.  Honor me in ways that release my soul's continuing journey; for I am not finished.

Say goodbye as you gather at the river or under the canopy of stars. Honor me with your presence, mourn my passing with dignity and a final tear or call my name just once more for my spirit will be with you there, at that place and at that moment. Let me go, do not keep me prisoner in the fractured
pictures of my life.

I was oh so much more.