Missouri River, Oacama SD
Last page in my art journal
I came to the last page of my art journal on my pilgrimage to South Dakota which seemed very auspicious. After hours and hundreds of miles of prairie we came to this huge river. A singular place. As we crossed it going west, I knew I wanted this to be my last piece on our return trip. The threshold. The last page. The crossing over.
I stood out in the drizzle while Tim and the kids packed the car trying to capture the river and the far shore. In such an understated way I celebrated crossing over a threshold by standing in the rain and then driving long hours home. Learning to let go, to turn the last page, to go home in the same clothes, and yet having crossed over.
When I speak of death I often say, "When I cross over..."
Here's a favorite quote about death.
PIPPIN: I didn't think it would end this way.
GANDALF: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.
PIPPIN: What? Gandalf? See what?
GANDALF: White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.
PIPPIN: Well, that isn't so bad.
GANDALF: No. No, it isn't.
"Lord of the Rings"
And death in the midst of new life.
The little losses preparing us for another path.
And the sprouts preparing us for another life.