Picture this: It's resurrection day. Your bones begin to stir, the dirt around begins to form flesh, your spirit is called back from wherever it was and you rise from the dust a brand new person, but still you somehow. Now what would you like your first sight to be with your newly renewed earthly eyes? Yes, yes, I know, your family and friends will be first on your list. But I mean after that. Do you want to come back to something that looks like your backyard did when you were alive? I think this really deserves more thought than most of us give it. Yes, when you're dead you won't care where your bones rest, but what about when you come back (assuming you believe that). Let me offer an alternative.
The sun shines on these windswept slopes 10 months of the year. It is an intimate site, used by a small community which has long since passed away itself.
It is still remembered, but not harassed with all the trappings of civilization that so harried us in our waking lives. No lawn mowers, no sprinkler systems, no traffic - visitors have to want to get here because it requires a short hike. In fact, your most frequent visitors are the silent type that stalk by on silent hooves and padded feet.
Peace, be still, the cedars whisper.
It has been here long enough that it belongs in a way that is profound. I want to be a part of something like that when I come back.
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