Sometimes, I almost believe in a God. But most often than not, the closest I’ve gotten is an ethereal being, like a whisper of a thought.
What I believe then is that no matter how bad things are at this moment in time, life will go on. I can see this in the young cherry tree on my front lawn, its pink bundles waiting to spring forth into blossoms, hear it in the mourning call of the geese as they flee the incoming winter, even in waking up and knowing before I glance out my window that the world had been blanketed with snow overnight. Life is always happening: flourishing and wilting. Birthing and dying. It’s such a fragile kind of beauty; it almost hurts to appreciate because you know that part of the reason your heart longs for it so is because it’ll only be there for a fleeting moment before it’s gone. Nothing can ever remain the same, but this persistent change is what makes life so meaningful. For everything we’ve said and done, and anything we didn’t say and didn’t do, has led us to who we are now. Life will always go on, and amidst its going-ons, we will continue to become until the grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back and you’ve reached this journey’s end.
- Pippin: I didn’t think it would end this way.
- Gandalf: End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path. One that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass… then you see it!
- Pippin: What? Gandalf? See what?
- Gandalf: White shores… and beyond. A far green country, under a swift sunrise.
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