Much reflection the last several months on death. Not so much the final death, but more the small deaths along the way. Putting things to rest. Allowing the leaves to wither. Putting dreams away. Letting go.
It seems to me that life is a series of small deaths. And with each one, we must choose whether we'll accept the death or try to best it.
There are those deaths I have chosen to accept along the way. And there are those that I'll fight to outrun until I am finally gone. Or until I choose to give in. From fear. Or exhaustion. Or because it seems the right thing at some point along the way.
Rilke said that death is the one truth. I say that life is a series of deaths that we get to experience and interact with. What we do with those deaths determines what kind of life we'll live.
We are immortal. Until we die.