At the end of your life who will you be remembered as being? Who do you want to be remembered for? When you take your last breath does it actually matter what anybody thinks about you anymore anyways? My reality is as I look down the barrel of a loaded shotgun which has quickly become the norm for us all does it truly really matter what it is we died for. A man who stands for nothing dies the same way. We never remember those that just merrily strolled along. Adapting and conforming to the ways that we have been accustomed to. As your life is ending a new life is just beginning. We evolve to revolve around the stars once again. Can there be any true mistakes made when the outcome for all is the same? I guess that depends on who you are and how you spent your life’s purpose. Did you live it all for yourself or did you show compassion to life along the way?
My Aunt has always been somebody I held a great deal of love and respect for. In a time where education wasn’t a right of passage she went on to the University of British Columbia. Obtain her Education that would give birth to so many young minds and free thoughts. She was a substitute teacher for many decades in the Lower Mainland. The reach of her teachings would span generations. Even now she is writing novels and keeping current on all World events. Her opinion means everything to me. Yesterday in one of our many phone calls I couldn’t help to break down. You know that question who would you want to meet from history? Well I always had a superficial answer to who I wanted to meet. This time though it wasn’t just one person it was a whole group. To me it wouldn’t matter who I got to meet as long as I could spend the day learning on how they lived their lives. The majestic way they honoured all lives. How they gave back to the Earth as much as they took. The people I would love to speak most to are the original ancestors of the great country that I live in. I want to know everything about who they were, how they lived and how they came to be. An ignorant man would look at the colour of their skin and see somebody who knows nothing. I look at them as being sun kissed and one with nature. The only ones who truly know and understand our Mother Earth. Vaguely speaking I want to meet any one of our great Indigenous people who were not polluted and over taken by their fear of us. I would love to be the first one to walk on their shores and reach out my hands so they can see that I am only coming to love.
I couldn’t help but cry at what we took from them. We pretend somehow that giving them money and land will somehow make up for their heartbreak. We believe that our material possessions could somehow possibly erase what we had took. Close your eyes for one moment and imagine. A country so fresh and serene that it will literally make you stop and inhale in a meditative state like we are supposed to. See and hear the children playing and frolicking in nature. Here the birds the chipmunks laugh at each other from within the tree tops. Here the branches fall from the trees as the sun hits your face. Now amongst the tranquillity imagine being disturbed by these men killing not only your people but the majestic animal you hunted to feed your tribe all winter long. The reason for their madness? Their own self righteous entitlement that has them taking the bones of such a beast to fuel their bombs as they waved war across the ocean. This is your first time witnessing such destruction. The blatant repeated rape of Mother Nature again and again and again. Echoing throughout the planes of time. What is the sense of even waking up anymore when your worth is amounted to nothing more than what you can sow at your fingertips.
So now with the scent of death filling up my nostrils I again have to ask myself, if I died tomorrow would I even be remembered? My Aunt simply told me to care for my own space. Give thanks where and when thanks is due but no more. Why give to yourself so freely of those that are just sitting there with open arms. They suck the joy and life right out of you and wait for you to crumble under their hate. She reminded of what is really important. My son fast asleep beside me, the cat curled on my lap and my dog at my feet. Have you ever stared deeply into their eyes? When it comes to those that are unable to communicate with you have you even tried? I read somewhere that are animals are like toddlers. Imagine trying to communicate with a 3 year old. They cry, laugh, love, eat and even have accidents. One thing that is for certain though is there inability to truly hate. You see when an animal loves you they love you unconditionally. The sun rises and sets in their eyes when they look up at me. One only has to be in their presence for mere seconds to feel that intensity of love. I wonder why it is we try and minimize that feeling. We spend so much time away from those that have gave their whole lives to be a part of ours. Why? In times of social distancing the ones that are still with us are our fur babies. There is something surreal when you accept the love that they so willingly give.
If all life is created equally and we have all evolved from a single cell then what makes an animal’s life so much more insignificant. If an animal has given us the ability to sustain the longevity of our lives don’t we in turn owe it to their spirit to say thanks to theirs. If energy never dies but changes form wouldn’t the same ring true for them. So now for the last time I ask myself at the end of my life when I take my last breath does anything matter? Only the love and respect that I shared with all living things while giving the capabilities to do so is what matters. To exercise kindness, grace and most of all love on a continuous and forever basis will ensure the same will be passed down through me. To infect the next generation with hope is what we can look forward to most. I will never agree with what the masses will do or don’t do. What I will never look back on are the things that I was too scared too do or be remembered for. I guess what I want to be remembered for is never losing hope.