Life’s Only Promise

It was a sunny day here in Columbus, Ohio.  I was able to work in my garden tilling the soil. Soon will be a time to plant.  I’m not skilled enough to sow seeds, but I would like to become so.

The beauty of gardening is that it brings you in touch with the cycles of nature, the changing weather, the waxing and the waning of the seasons.  The forces that drive these processes: growth, preservation, and decay can be seen in an hour, a day, or a year.  The lessons of gardening can be effective metaphors for considering one’s life, and inevitable death.

The destructive principle has within it, like the yin yang, the seed of creation, just as the creative principle carries the seed of destruction in its womb (why else does the spring cry so much). Death clears the land so that it may be transformed by rebirth. A rebirth that is new, and different, yet self similar: fractaline. It is this similar yet different continuity that perpetuates the lesson of life, and the culmination of purpose.

This doesn’t make the existential reality of death any easier.  It is a heavy load to bear for we humans. We have an intense foreknowledge of its inevitability unlike any other animal (though perhaps no better comprehension of it), and this is what makes us heroic figures.


The initiate who faces the dark night of the soul, considering penance for his actions or inactions, shall eventually come to face the idea of his own mortality.  It is common to fall under the spell of the fear of death, especially if you smell his ashy flower. Instead one must find his inner child, looking bravely with a young eye, and perceive death as an apocalypse, an unveiling to an internal mystery of one’s purpose.

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