Maybe death isn’t darkness, after all,

but so much light wrapping itself around us- as soft as feathers-

that we are instantly weary of looking, and looking, and shut our eyes,

not without amazement,

and let ourselves be carried,

as through the translucence of mica,

to the river that is without the least dapple or shadow,

that is nothing but light- scalding, aortal light-

in which we are washed and washed

out of our bones.

~Mary Oliver

clean down to the bone and deep into soul….

inquiry for today~ mesmerized by real life…..

waking to the wild open….

What made you so gentle?” asked Rabbit.

“Grief,” said Bear. “Pain, fear and loss… most of all change.”

“You could have been so different,” said Rabbit.

“I could have been,” replied Bear.

“But, I chose to break the cycle instead.”

~Tara Shannon