A thought — what will happen to us?
Nothing new, nothing everybody hasn’t asked/felt always, all the time.
Just a re-articulation of chaos. That lives in the pit of our stomach, in the back of our throats. Always.
Ready to leap out the second something goes wrong. Which actually means, when something happens that is not expected, not wanted, not needed.
What will happen to us?
I asked my mother this morning, quite casually. She looked at me quietly.
Nothing, she said. The same that happens to everybody.
You mean, we will die?
Of course we will die, she said. We all do.
Then what will happen to us before, between now and then, I persisted stubbornly.
What you make of it. Just be.
Said my mother, the Zen master.