I’d always thought that I would contact Maya Angelou one day and tell her that to a completely unknown socially awkward highschooler in Norman Oklahoma she was a refuge, a lifeline, and a window into the undeniable sanctity that we all poses. She was my reminder, as all great artists are, that no matter the severity of our misfit we are each individually worthy. No matter the social structures that contain us and seek to define us we are immeasurably sacred. We are each a conduit of the cosmos.

It is my greatest hope and aspiration to one day express myself as though I am incapable of being distracted from this truth.

Seeing pictures of my friends kids on facebook, and seeing how much these kids look like their parents, really makes me think that none of us are singularly ourselves. That the concept of pure individuality is a childhood illusion.

Also, last night I learned the following:
All humans have 2 genomes. The genome of DNA in chromosomes, and the DNA in mitochondria.  We inherit the second genome solely from our mothers, and this genome is identical to that of our mothers. Beyond that it’s identical to our mothers mother, and our mothers mothers mother and so on.

So, it’s not that anyone ever grows up to be their mother, it’s that We Have Always Been Our Mother!…ALWAYS!!!!
Take that home and think long and hard about it kids.

This morning in my dreams I shared a moment of friendship, sorrow, and comforting with Annie’s mom. She seemed sad simply that sadness exists, and that at any given moment people somewhere are bearing it. I embraced her, and I can still feel that hug. Among the many things we talked about she said “Death is not so bad. It’s much harder to be the one that stays than the one that leaves.”

I understand from that encounter that essence has integrity. She’s still her precious self, wanting to give love and appreciate the wonders of natural beauty. She’s still involved and aware even though she’s viewing us perhaps from the other side of a mirror.
Or perhaps all of the elements that form Susan are still in existence, and have always been, and because we knew her we can synthesize those elements in our hearts and minds and access her essence. We are her path back, and she is an ambassador from a realm we are both inseparably connected to, and oblivious of.

I don’t actually adhere to a religion, and I don’t have preconceived notions of afterlife. One thing I am absolutely certain of is this: All creatures have a limited capacity to understand their surroundings. There are colors that the human eye can’t see, and sounds out of our range, and surely there are things about death that we are ill equipped to understand.

Often even with the senses we do have we’re unable to fashion the right words to our experience. So I am content to know that I have encountered truth, even if I can’t explain it.

I was privileged to be with Susan when she left. I had the sense that she was readying herself, and waiting at a bus stop, or a train station to board her ride, and I was standing on the platform seeing her off. She was expectant and looking forward more than she was looking back.

Today I read an excerpt from her blog. I’d read the same excerpt before but it hit me in a new way today.

“I do think I’ve gotten better, over time, at carrying departed loved ones with me. It’s always seemed to me that life (in a larger sense than just this earth existence) is a lot like traveling on a bus. You may be looking out one window, but the person seated next to you could be looking out a different window and seeing a completely different scene. Or he might have a headset on, and be listening to something you can’t hear. You’re in different worlds–different states of consciousness–and you can’t really communicate. But you’re still sitting next to each other, and you can always reach out and give that person a hug.”
– Susan E. Middleton

To Susan with love
From Beth