Yesterday I read of meditating upon death. I was next to my mother. An insect landed on my arm, I showed it to her out of joy. She smacked it. I was heartbroken. It surprised me how much I felt. It seemed the poor bugs demise was my machination- there was a voice that told me showing it to mom is showing off my peace.

It bothered me. A friend told me to pray to God, little did she know he is the one who did this. It was a lesson in death, how instant it can be. So let go of everything right now, it will not last anyway. Feel the sorrow, weep, but let it go. I spoke to my mother, told her it saddened me. She apologized, asking what if it was a mosquito. I said it is not the bug’s death, but the fact that I caused it. Did I?

We have a new dinner table. The old one of many years is on the terrace now, marble under the sun. I am sitting on the newer one, it is night. I feel sadness, the poor table is outside now. What if it feels alone? There is another table. Why do I judge the outside to be alone? Why weigh down your heart my love, when they could be two friends under the moonlit sky as well? Perhaps it is not marble under the hot sun but freedom under the night sky. Do you feel free, old table?

I went outside and spoke to it. I said I hope you are okay, resting my hand upon it, the coolest its surface has ever been. I recall our pug, chewing away at its edges, reposing in its central space. Do you remember her? We repainted you then.

What are these feelings? Sadness? Attachment? They are nice, surprising but welcome. I hope the table is fine. It is, no?

Life is transient, I see it. I know one day this chair will decompose, but I can only see the short term negative future- one where it may wind up alone in a room, unattended. Think however, did these possessions not transform? They could have been discarded many years ago, yet they remain. The sofa too. You complained once, but it has remained. If even your wishes can not dispose of them, then find solace- they will remain.

Perhaps you fear your manifestations, you fear that you will think mean things and hurt others, only to wake up later. Trust. What matters has remained. It is eternal. These feelings for example, recall once your numbness. Yet look now, the lovely child feels for the insects, the table and the chairs. It feels for people and their pain. This was his greatest treasure, the one who once would pray whenever he heard a dog whine from pain.

Do not run from this pain. Feel it. It is ok. It is your pain too. Just as others feel for their close one’s loss, these too are your close ones. Feel for them as you do, it is wonderful to see.