Finis est , ubi nos illinc profectos

Every Tuesday now for forty weeks I have shared my memories of my friend, Brent Smith, who passed away on January 27. This Hallowe’en I created a new one. I took a little time to build a fire, despite the rain, and say a prayer for my departed brother-in-arms. Taking a small portion of his cremains, I spread them widdershins around our ring of stones and I bid his soul to continue to find peace in the hereafter. I told him that I missed him and that I loved him and would continue to do so.

fyre

This winter, I will join some of Brent’s closest friends out at the Mississinewa and we’ll do the same with the remainder of the cremains his parents gave to us and that will be another memory too.

Even in death, our ancestors and loved ones are still a vital and important part of our lives. There is no end. There is only a transition from material form to incorporeal. While the spirit returns to the great well of oneness with the multiverse, the soul ventures on, exploring the rich fabric of realities we can scarcely imagine.

The end is just the beginning…

“What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.” — T. S. Eliot

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