The Book of Earth decrees-no death, only translation, and transmutation of dark and light; observer and observed trading visions; body and mind growing soul. The Book of Earth begs renewal at every turn. How can death be different? The gravitas of Earth balances dreams and imagination lifting life onward. Death is ‘the triple’ we accomplish soaring to reach the next trapeze. It is the “Wow” factor. The death we really fear is the death of dreams, when color is wrung from the day, and hope lies dry and desiccated. It is that heavy death arriving when the tongue has no sweet words, and the Moon soars into the night sky- unseen.
The Book of Earth asks time and time again for redemption in renewal. Renewal is risky, and renewing old dreams costs twice as much. Fear flails and flounders with ghosts of what might have been. It moves through bone and muscle with the stink of regret, like old, white fat left to mold.
In each breath, at every sunrise, in the start to a week, with every cycle of the Moon, soar toward your triple, stretch for the next trapeze. Let “Wow” be the mantra of sweetness on your tongue. It’s a Practice, no?