Enormous snow flakes, a quarter the size of my palm, sailed past my window on the last morning of March. They looked like ripped pieces of paper raining from the sky. I stared for moments, shaking my head in disbelief at their size, their timing, their existence.
Existence is a funny thing, not ha-ha funny, but wow and can-you-believe, funny. Do you ever wonder or am I alone in this? Alive, dead. Flowers that spring after the winter frost, those that never see the sun again. And what of people? Chi, energy, or lack thereof. What happens next?
Are we gone forever, cold, lifeless, without blood or heartbeat? Is there an energy, an intelligence that lives on without our bodies? Are we still recognizable to ourselves and others through consciousness? Is there communication? It is the greatest of mysteries, and there’s no way to ascertain information or answers without dying, or almost dying.
An answerless puzzle for humanity. But I sit with it. I sit with it because I miss my parents, and others who have died. I don’t want to believe these relationships are forever gone but I don’t want to believe what isn’t so either. I remain open to the prospects because to close myself would be akin to another death.