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Why life is like literature

 Why life is like literature

How do you see life?

I see life like literature.  Every piece is a beautiful piece of expression – no matter the length.

When we read a stunning quote we don’t say ‘well, where’s the rest of it?’ or ‘ this should have been a book, where are the other pages?  This is such a waste!’  When we read a beautifully crafted poem that brings us to tears we don’t think ‘this would have been a wonderful 5-volume set. There should be more.   It’s so sad the writer just stopped like this’.

But we do this with life. We see a life shorter than we might have thought it ‘should’ be and we describe it’s end as wrong, as wasteful….as if it wasn’t beautiful enough as it was.  As if it ought to have been more.  But, you see, it wasn’t more.  It was exactly what it was, no more, no less, and deserves to be seen as beautiful as it was…whatever that looked like.

We call anything but death by old age ‘unnatural’.  Unnatural in what way?  Did the cave-babies not die?  Did the young cave men and women not fight, not have accidents, not die of anything other than old age?  Not die young?

What about in  nature then?  Do animal babies not die?  Do animals not kill each other? Are there not accidents, illness, disease?  Do all animals die long after their offspring and all the way into ‘old-age’?

This idea of a young death, an accidental death, a death by disease as unnatural separates us from reality and sets us up to suffer AND to miss the beauty in the life as it was of our person who died.

Some lives are 5 volume sets ( extraordinarily long).

Some lives are  novels.

Some lives are short poems.

And some lives are brief quotes. Brief but poignant.

And all are beautiful and complete just as they were.


With much love,