Coming empty-handed, going empty-handed
April 27th, 2008One year ago today my mom died. Rather than dwell on the sadness of her passing I want to celebrate her life. She had a great life with my dad. They were married just shy of 64 years and they raised a good family. She was funny and loving and I’ll always miss her.
If you would like to read more about her read my post Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.
The following are two of my favorite poems
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
~ Mary Frye
The Human Route
Coming empty-handed, going empty-handed — that is human.
When you are born, where do you come from?
When you die, where do you go?
Life is like a floating cloud which appears.
Death is like a floating cloud which disappears.
The floating cloud itself originally does not exist.
Life and death, coming and going, are also like this.
But there is one thing which always remains clear.
It is pure and clear, not depending on life and death.
What is that one pure and clear thing?
