Tuesday, February 15, 2011


Monica: "Mortal" is that which eventually must die, from the Latin word for death, "mortalis."  I have a hard time wrapping my mind around the finality of death when I think about it closely. What am "I" really? And what is the abalone, that ugly slug-like creature that lives in the sea, a local culinary delicacy with the most beautiful pearlescent shell? One can only see its beauty after the creature is gone—it's all that remains of the vital force that once carried it. What beauty will remain of me when I'm gone?

Evelyn: As I get older, I watch myself in the mirror and I am keenly aware of many small changes;  my body holds curves differently from 20 years ago, it complains a bit more as it observes the impending mortality of being human. I notice the wrinkles, the way my skin feels as if the laces in the back have loosened a bit, the onset of small aches where a knee is resistant to bending, or my back uncertain of a run. I see the world a little blurrier, and my smile has grown a few emphatic marks. Regardless, my body is stronger than I have ever felt it, my eyes brighter with the lightness of being that has moved into me this last year, and I am warmly accepting of my body, my temple, and what it is capable of doing. I am mortal - and really wouldn't have it any other way... making my way on this journey.

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