"Remember, dust you are and to dust you shall return."
These were the words spoken as the ashes of last year's palm branches were formed in the shape of a cross on many foreheads this evening. Recently I was thinking about how our bodies, if abandoned to the elements, do turn into dust after our death and in that way we return to the world. We transition from being in the world to being part of that which has surrounded us since we began to exist. I always feel a sense of separation as if I've only just been placed in this place and soon I can get to where I actually belong. Last week I read in Dave Roche's hilarious mini tome, On Subbing, how when he was working at a thrift store and grossed out by the amount of dust he had to endure, he realized he was actually breathing in dead people and was desperate to escape. I too am desperate to escape the dust of my old life and the oppression of wanting what is impossible to have: a story-book life. I hope to leave some dust --behind-- as I run forward to a much more fulfilling life.
With hope,
Paola
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