Crying crying. cry cry cry. Hellos and goodbye. Lost my ipod on the plane. Last song, Collide. Listened to same order on Sunday night. Burial. Silvia. Collide. And then it was time to turn off electronics. Flight 333. Chose it for the number. I was supposed to fly out of San Jose today. June 2nd. That was the day. But then everything changed. Somehow, the world put me on Flight 333 with a mysterious one-stop same-plane break, but still the fastest flight from Los Angeles to Seattle. Turns out it was in Oakland. Where the stewardess took the liberty of deboarding my iPod. Last song, Collide.
Someone once told me our meeting was like the sun and moon colliding. That it could have been potentially disastrous.
Perhaps that’s the thing…should large bodies collide, or should we absolutely prevent them at all costs?
If in one moment, we were to all go together, which of us would find ourselves in the same place?
The world is preparing for something.
More crying. About hair. About homesickness. About wanting to be so much closer to my mother than we could ever be. A group soul in trouble and she says, “I am a brave woman. And you are a brave woman. I know because I passed it on to you.”
If Courage is not of how you approach death, but how you approach life, then how do we come to peace with that the fact a part of us is dying every day?
You let go of the part that’s dying.