“May the sun bring you new energy by day, may the moon softly restore you by night, may the rain wash away your worries, may the breeze blow new strength into your being, may you walk gently through the world and know its beauty all the days of your life.” ~Apache blessing


“Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in one pretty and well preserved piece…but to skid in broadside throughly used up worn out and defiantly shouting WOW WHAT A RIDE.” ~from the back of a Porsche trailer


The impermanence of life… why is it always a surprise, why does it always hurt…when we say goodbye (or see you later in my beliefs) when someone passes on? Death [physical] is the only thing known without a shadow of doubt since birth.


Everything else is a shade of gray.


We spend our life cashing in seconds which become minutes, hours of days…endless days strung together until our time does come and we’ve found time is all we’ve spent. So busy making it through, worrying, fretting, fearing and keeping at bay our own thoughts of mortality. We’ll beat it…right?


I’m not sure I would even if I knew how, while I’d love to always be here for my family, friends and most importantly my little girl; I’m not sure I’m equipped to even make such a decision, physical death vs physical immortality. Fortunately, that decision has already been made and I will always be “here” as we’re all truly connected (in spirit and in physicality). My presence will not be any less if I no longer take breath.


Intimation of Reality ~Ranier Maria Rilke

We have no clue to this departed state

It does not share with us. We feel no task

To tender admiration, love, or hate

To Death, with whom the fretful stylized mask

Of tragedy so oddly misagrees.

The world is yet so full of parts we play

While we still worry if we pleased that day,

Death also plays, although he does not please

But when you left, there fell into the scene

a ray of realness through the very gap

By which you left us; greenness of true green,

Natural sunshine, forest real with sap

We act, at time lay gestures by, recite

Things studied anxiously and hard by rote,

But of your being, now remote and quite

Translated from our daily play, a note

May sometimes sink upon us like a hint

Of that reality, and give us pause,

So that swept up in it for a short stint,

We do real life, not thinking of applause.


I suppose one day we’ll understand death a bit more, but I feel first we must be aware of life, our life and what it means to live as designed. There are beliefs that term life really a dream, and when we pass we awaken to our being…


You will be missed George, in ways I’m not even sure you’d know until now. You touched many with your kind heart…including my own. Thank you for sharing in this dream of life, may peace be yours as you find your way and we find ours.