Lives well she who learns the paradox of the familiar, and the surprising lessons of the simple,
Who changes because she needs to, not because she can.
Lives well she who communicates with others, yet relishes contemplation and quiet,
Who accepts the sanctity of all her self—now and forever, without the need to list successes and completions (the empty bulk of eulogies).
Lives well she who cultivates her own instrument, rejecting the calls by prophets and poets to play theirs,
Who resonates in her own song, at her own pace and time.
Lives well she who accepts her own death as she accepts gravity,
Who lives life as a vessel to experience, not a container to fill.
I was inspired to write this after reading a translation of Pablo Neruda's poem, Who Dies?. Special thanks to Laura for pointing me to Neruda (Musings of an Ant Watcher: aka Laura Young's Big Blog of Life and Death) and to Wanderingwoman for posting Neruda's poem (People become stories,and stories become understanding).