While a lot of people listening to Michael might get stuck on the "It's too late to save the world." part of his message, that was really the just preface to his core message, which was "It's not too late to love the world."

What is it about a wooded country lane on a warm, still morning? Perhaps it calls to that part of us that craves something new and familiar all at once. Fool vibes.

The gospel of compost is isn’t a story of the permanent triumph of life over death, but of the eternal interconnectedness of life and death, of joy and defeat, of loss and fulfillment. And ultimately, it is a story of love. Love for the world right here, right now, in all its glorious messiness.

And so I take my memories of her and the lessons learned from her into the future, for isn’t that one way our beloved dead live on? And what would those lessons be? To live in the moment and fully, to experience it all with truth and with feeling. To honour family and friends. To guard and protect those who cannot do so for themselves. To love with my whole being and to sink my teeth and claws into my enemies, those that would harm me and keep me caged.

Unlike Thor, Captain America, and Iron Man, we are not gods or supermen or cyborgs. We are human beings. And to be human to be limited. Ironically, it is in our capacity to embrace our finitude, to love it even, that our salvation lies.

Part 2 of a 2 part series on the painful subject of suicide. It includes the sections Suicide as a Systemic Illness, Supporting the Loved Ones of Those Who Died by Suicide, and Spiritual Contexts for Suicide.

Everyone was a cancer patient and everyone was--like all those people who go to cancer hospitals, have the best care in the entire fucking world and don’t make it--going to die. This was an all-consuming thought. And really, what was the point of it all? Why had I bothered to go through all that, if it was just going to be a less intense version of that for the rest of my time alive?

I've discovered a thick bell inside of me
that elegiac poetry rings
a terribly deep booming
knell

From the time I woke up until I went to bed, there was the fear. It was the fear that there is not enough.