My friend, Death.

It really hit me today just how transient life really is. I feel like life on Earth in human form is like one long drug trip from which I will one day wake up. There’s nothing so soothing during a ride that’s been bumpy as the recollection that at some point, the ride will end and you will walk on having experienced a transformation that – in hindsight – was ultimately entirely out of your control.

Depression hurts. Everywhere. Trans* experience also hurts and I often feel like an immigrant to my own species. I happy say I welcome Death in its naturally appointed time with open arms. When Death charts a final destination, what does it matter if I do this thing or that thing – people say this or judge me for that? For we will all die and become fertilizer for the Earth like so many acres of burning forest in California. This mad dimension has been going along for ages without my particular soul conglomerate signature and will continue doing so long after the dust from my bones have become tall trees, building foundation, and if they can still survive by then, hopefully some pretty flowers.

The difference is the depth of my experience in each and every moment. Not in what I was famous for. Other people can only see in me what lies within them already. Did I Feel? Did I Love? Did I hurt? Did I weep? Did I laugh? Did I let my spirit soar in gratitude to the endless unfolding of this grand cosmos?

Did I let Spirit experience Spirit’s manifestation?

This is all that matters now.