To live in a human body is to practice impermanence. It is to bear witness: I begin, and I end. I grow and I come to pieces, and I will always change, every day and every moment, until I am steadily no more and may relax into this dirt that bore me, and rest awhile, my heart no longer abuzz with the exhausting and beautiful vibrations of life.
We all face the body’s truth in death. What separates us from the dog slinking away into the woods to hear the final notes of life’s coda in solitude? Perhaps nothing, but I can accept this beastly unification happily so long as I am granted the wish that sprang forward from my very contemplation of death: That my ashes be scattered on the default Mac background mountain.
The Macbook OS mountain (I’m not sure which it is but I’m sure my surviving loved ones or the executor of my will can find it) is truly the only place suited to my remains, and it is my hope that while the debris of my life’s embodiment swirl around the snowy mountain caps, my soul will finally be free, or, at least, freer than I was as I sat in front of my computer, occasionally dragging my Gmail aside to catch a glimpse of that numinous range.
Many ask me, “Why are you being so dramatic? You’re 22 and in perfect health,” and to them I simply laugh for it is clear they have not yet learned that to live in a human body is to practice impermanence and all that stuff I said before. “If you want to go to that mountain so badly, why don’t you just make it a goal to go there while you’re alive?” they wonder, and to that, I shed one tear, for it is sad to me how little they understand of life.
Like, how am I supposed to just go to a mountain? Can you do that? Would I have to hike to get up there? But no matter, this isn’t about such frivolous technicalities as travel. Again, I don’t even know where it is. Do you think I could reverse Google image search it? Whatever, the mountain is more of a metaphor anyways and I want you to just scatter my ashes on it, as requested. Thanks.
