In me is a little something of everyone who ever lived. Deep in the code, I’ve been through it all. The universe, too, is in my flesh, blood, and bones. That means I’m part of the greatest, most efficient recycling project ever known. As such, I’ve learned not to cling to the idea of being who I am, or who others think I am, or to worry about what will happen to that image after I die. It’s a lot easier and more fun to let the universe take care of it all. It’s had plenty of practice. It knows what to do. And the thought of the universe making a mistake is beyond absurd — as absurd as if I were to try to tell it what to do, as in, Hey, universe! See how great and wonderful I am! Keep this version of me alive forever! when what’s really needed is for me to spend some time being moss, or a lightning strike, or an apple. Think of what I’d miss. Think of the use I’d be. Think of the poetry.
[ 1670 ]
Categories: A Few More Scratches