“Nobody knows what waits ahead, Beyond the earth and sky. Lie-d, Lie-d, I’m not afraid to die” – Gillian Welch.
Our gray hen is perpetually confused and adrift now, she is losing weight, I think, and stays near Minnie, our barn cat, when Minnie is nearby. Otherwise, she wanders the farm by herself all day and much of the night. I can’t find where she sleep sat night, which is good, perhaps predators can’t find it either.
Maria wants to keep her alive, and that is our decision for now. I suppose part of my unease about her is that she reminds of death.
When I watch her moving slowly about the yard, I do think of death. Maria is much younger than me, but I turned 70 this summer and death isn’t quite as remote an idea as it used to be. I don’t want to hide from it.
It is good that the young believe they are immortal, otherwise they might be as cautious and wary as older people can sometimes be.
A friend asked me the other if I was afraid to die, and this afternoon, during my quiet hour, my lonely place time, I listened to Gillian Welch and Willie Nelson sing Welch’s song “I’m Not Afraid To Die” together. Gillian Welch is, at the moment, my go-to musician when I lie down and put my earphones on and rest and think at the end of the day.
To be honest, I’m not afraid to die, at least most of the time. I do know I am followed by a shadow which is my death – it has no shape or feature or definition. I have become the observer of the things that haunted and followed me all of my life.
I walked out into the pasture after my rest, and was worn down by the strong sun – heart medications don’t like the strong sun, and I sat down in an old Adirondack chair by the big apple tree to rest. Maria was hard at work in her studio, spinning some of her magic. I felt quite alone, like something cold had reached down and touched my heart.
Red came trotting over from the pasture gate to put his head on my knee and look up at me. He does not care for it when I feel alone.
The donkeys sidled over to the fence and brayed softly at me, they have learned over the years how to get me to bring them a cookie or a carrot, it never misses, I never fail to bite. The got my number years ago and no day goes by when they don’t remember it. Okay, okay, I say, give me a few minutes.
It is nearly the end of September and all around me leaves are beginning to spin down to the ground in their gentle ballet.
Like me, the leaves have begun to decay, they are never more beautiful than just before they die. I know my body has begun its own long decline, my substance is still strong and very much alive.
I am at this time in my life singing my song, my body is preparing to one day rise up out of the world.
There is a point in life when you dread the idea of death, and a point where you come to see it as something else, a friend and guide perhaps, coming to take you to the other side. Another of those magical helpers. I have of work to do in my life, lots of love to give Maria, lots of blogs to write, photos to take, small acts of great kindness to perform.
It seems that ever day is Friday, the weeks and seasons blow right over me like the wind that rushes up our valley, I sometimes feel that I too am leaping off the trees, and twirling to the ground. Maybe I will land in the wildflower garden, and give myself over to them.
But I’m not afraid of death. Let it be. It is enough.
I am not there yet, I know that, the beetles and worms will have to wait, but I feel an acceptance of death that is new to me, and leaves me at peace.
So, no, I am not afraid of death today, sometimes, though, I am still afraid of life.