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Sunday, November 30, 2008

A Poem to be Read Upon Scattering My Ashes.

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 glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!

Mary Frye (1932)

James: I have long ago decided to have my body cremated when I die so that my ashes can be scattered into the soil, the air, the water and into a fire as a final act of giving before being reborn anew. I have always found cemeteries to be odd places--not scary necessarily but just strange in that we section off parts of towns where we collect dead bodies dressed in sumptuous clothing lying in a fancy box.

Even in death we try to cling the body and status by demanding the most ornate coffin, headstone, mausoleum and even dressed in our finest suit or dress as if we are off to a ritzy party. It is somewhat humorous that we try and keep the body preserved in coffins to keep the elements from decomposing it when those elements already exist in those very bodies and have since our birth!!! They are apart of who we are--we can not escape that. We wouldn't exist without those elements.

~Peace to all beings~