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When I am dead my dearest, sing no sad songs for me. Plant thou no roses at my head, nor shady cypress tree. Be the green grass above me with showers and dewdrops wet, and if thou wilt, remember, and if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale sing on as if in pain. And dreaming through the twilight that doth not rise nor set, haply I may remember, and haply may forget.
If I’ve performed my function adequately, my words will outlive me by a decent margin. I don’t really care if my fruit rots with my corpse or outlives me by millennia, but there’s a pretty good chance that you’re reading this after I’m dead.
I don’t think about my death much which is weird because I used to think about it a lot. I used it like a talisman, a totem of power, more real than reality itself. During my journey it was very important to me that I kept death out front of me where I could see it, not skulking in the shadows as if it wasn’t there. This is not because I’m a morbid person but because death-awareness is central to the journey of awakening. It has to do with always knowing the stakes of the game; what’s on the table. It’s the difference between going all in and hedging your bets. This is for all the marbles, not for the faint of heart. Whatever you hold back will hold you back.
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When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
