It's sort of funny, but I don't really believe it. I mean that whole dying thing. I find it hard to believe that it could happen to me.
It's ridiculous, given that I've had a couple of brushes with death. Somehow, surviving makes me more confident that I'm indestructible.
My grip on reality is sometimes tenuous. I know.
The Ash Wednesday thing . . . I actually do sort of believe in it, maybe precisely because I don't believe in my own mortality. It's probably real healthy to have someone state bluntly, "you're dust."
My heroes from the 4th Century, the Desert Fathers, often spoke of death, the importance of keeping it ever before us. With a few notable exceptions, the Abbas have seldom steered me wrong in spiritual matters.
So I went and got ashed this evening. I'm gonna die. You, too. It stinks. I don't like it one bit. But there it is.
No use in ignoring it.
