Life in a Bottle

Can I put my life in a bottle?  Distill it so it doesn’t move.  Keep it, so it doesn’t get old or rancid.  So that the things that mean so much to me are carefully preserved.  So they don’t get lost or misplaced or sat on by mistake.

All that I am is insubstantial.  All the stuff I have, the clothes I wear, the items that I feel belong to me or have been given to me are illusions just as I am.  Oh sure, that Eddie Bauer shirt with the great design gives me pleasure.  It will still hang in the closet when I’m gone.  My loved ones might remember that I loved that shirt.  A stranger could come along and put on the shirt.  The shirt won’t complain.  

The shirt will stay in what was formerly my closet until it is removed or the closet is claimed by another.  In any case, my name won’t be called.  At least, not necessarily.

This will happen to all my possessions.  My property of many kinds will simply cease to be mine.  They will have the memory of being mine as long as someone is able to remember.  

I marvel at this as I look at things in my house that belonged to my grandparents and parents.  The house itself was built by and belonged to someone else.  The lake the house sits on was enjoyed and celebrated for millennia by others I can only imagine.  I don’t know their names or their thoughts as they stood on the banks of the lake spellbound by the view of Mt. Rainier.  Mt. Rainier, known by other names many long forgotten.

Because, I am insubstantial.  We are all insubstantial.  I am made of water and other chemicals that will fade into the earth when I die like those gone before me.  There are a few rings of gold on my fingers that will rest distinct in the earth.  My watch will hang around if it’s on me when I die.  All of it.  Every last iota of my stuff has only a temporal relationship to me.  In 100 years, any memories of what that was will be dust.  

I must say this is okay.  It’s really okay to be a part of the earth that the earth takes back in water and other chemicals.  This is good.  It makes me humble.  It makes me a part of something greater.  That my connection to this life is something greater is the thing that makes me immortal.  My immortality is not how I am remembered by other mortals.  Instead, it is how I am connected to this incredible earthly cycle of life.  This phenomenal sphere of wonder. 

The earth has been around for over four billion years.  I’m not even clear that humans can destroy it if we wanted to.  It can certainly be harmed, but I anticipate it will be around for another four billion years.  My chemical molecules will still be an essential piece of the earth.  My molecules will be used to create something new in this earthly cycle.  This connection is more powerful than anything attributed to me.  It is not more powerful than the love I have for those in my life.  It is simply as powerful as my love.

For each of us we say goodbye to, there is rebirth—a reconfiguration.  We are not able to see it.  It does not abate our grief.  It moves without our conscious knowing.  In this cycle, our essence never dies.  Our essential connection to our planet does not end.  This reassures me as I contemplate my own end one day and how I’ll be remembered by those I love and the planet I am one with.  Some say this is god.  I say it is earth.

My coworker died today. He tried to preserve his life in a bottle of alcohol. It didn’t work. Goodbye, Jim.  Thanks for being. You are not lost.

Joceile

11.20.20

[Picture of Mt. Rainier sunrise over lake.]