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.
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Categories: A Few More Scratches
Tags: Acceptance, Apples, Blood, Bones, Death, Ego, Fear, Flesh, Gratitude, Identity, Images, Joy, Life, Lightning, Moss, Poetry, The Universe
William Michaelian 
What I wouldn’t give to be a lightening bolt, the kind with branches that almost touches the dirt but stops at the grass. I’m wickid enough. I’d make one feisty bolt of lightening. Probably just what I was in 1968. That would explain a lot.
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Beautiful. The world can always use a good jolt. Why not you?
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Oh yeah. You’re reading my mind. Yeah, there are a few pairs of breeches I’d lightly burn the backsidesb of.
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Etwas Überlassen macht frei. Das Leben wird gelassener dann, vielleicht auch langsamer, weil man weiß, dass alles kommt wie es kommt. Dieses Loslassen, wenn man es dann für sich gefunden hat, ist einfach gut. Damit gehen wir unbedingt Seite an Seite, lieber Freund.
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Surrender and letting go — yes, those are the magic words…. Thank you again, dear Edith.
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