Dust to Dust and Beyond
Yesterday I had a nicely dressed man gently stop me and ask a question.
“Sir, if you were to die today do you know where you’ll be going?” I thought, good question for a man like me who doesn’t have a clue where he is going now let alone once I’m deceased. (Thanks for the cheery reminder that at any moment a bolt from and airplane’s fuselage could come crashing from the heavens striking me dead, was my next thought as I timidly glanced upwards.)
I studied this man’s eyes seeking subtle cues so I may have some understanding of his intent. He appeared sincere so it I felt it to be polite to return his question with equal sincerity.
Pondering, while stooping down I scooped up some dirt into my hand, held it up to him and stated, “Here. I believe I’ll be returning my borrowed existence to an earth that has supported me for a lifetime.” As he began to take in a breath to respond to my answer I continued on with a question for him. “Tell me, do you believe this dust I’m cradling in my palm cares or worries, for even a moment, what the future holds?” He was silent so I resumed by answering my own question, “I don’t and I kind of like the idea of not being able to be hurt anymore as well as not having a care in the world.”
He and I continued a nice little chat then parted - him on his way, I imagine, with interests in peoples answer’s to a question that in reality no one has authority to venture an answer as fact and me with a new concern – who might I be stepping on as my feet smack the dirt and was I causing him any discomfort, which, come to think of it, tends to suggest that I have doubts about my conclusion that soil exists without pain or anxieties.
Balanced (My goal)
There is symmetry