72/365 Beja
When we met Beja was 43 and at the end of his life story. Hugging good-bye he assured me he’d see me from heaven but understood I (not believing in heaven) wouldn’t see him. I look up anyway; honoring his beliefs, I wholeheartedly wave.
posted by - Christine at 6:31 AM
7 Comments:
I envy those who know where they're headed, though Beja clearly got there much too soon.
Nice one. mm, look at fat red ant's other blog. She likes bugs and pond scum, and you do, too, as I recall.
apparently, even though you may not believe in heaven, you believe in Beja's heaven ... nicely written. Lovely.
Do you know the Billy Collins poem, "The Afterlife"?
This is lovely. I wonder if I waved to Beja, would he see me?
I believe Beja would see you Indigo because Beja believes he will.
Believe. Believe. Believe.
Let's all wave...
I will look for that poem now.
This is lovely, and I'm sure Beja approves.
hmmm...
I wonder where belief so strong comes from? What is the actual "substance" of such a "real" belief?
That's what you would have to have believed in to wave at all, right?
Can we choose to believe something we don't already don't believe?
And if belief is how we transport ethericly, how the hell did I get here? :-)
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