"All things are our relatives; what we do to everything, we do to ourselves. All is really One." -Black Elk

I won't say I made a new friend recently, but I did name this little guy Henry. It might be a silly thing to do, but after saying "hey bunny, drink some water" over and over again, this dude needed a name. I found him in the backyard two days ago. I noticed something that looked like a baseball covered in fur wiggling in the grass. The next thought I had: oh crap, this furry baseball has feet!

After calling the "Bunny Ranch (no, not that one, it's a rabbit rescue organization in Riverside County), I learned via the Hopline: days of operation were Monday through Thursday only. So Henry and I spent the weekend together mostly listening to music (he prefers classical, though I try my best to sway him towards traditional Chinese flute) and engaging in some mindfulness practice. Now I can cross meditation with rabbit off the bucket list.

"I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion." -Henry David Thoreau

I spend most days alone. This has been a great opportunity for introspection. So with all this practice lately, I am very aware of my feelings and corresponding emotions. Becoming attached to a little ball of fur and applying human characteristics to this wild animal was not in my weekend plans. Instead I used this time to focus on death. I believe the bunny has a broken leg. Most of my neighbors told me to put him out of his misery, but aside from some nervous shaking and belabored breathing, I think the bunny might make it.

But I'm not clinging to this idea. Just like all things, this too shall pass. I might release Henry into the wild where a coyote immediately re-names him Lunch. Contemplating death is not something westerners like to do. I realize this. Instead, we wait until we're fortunate enough to be on a "death bed" to start panicking, pondering and pontificating.

Did I live a good life? Were the choices I made the right ones? Am I going to heaven?

If you've had time to visit with someone just prior to their death, perhaps you've noticed a pretty common mind state: fear. Nobody wants to die, I get that. Just like its opposite, birth, death is a part of life. Then why do we so often act like it only applies to the other guy?

"I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the length of it. I want to live the width of it as well." -Diane Ackerman

So for today, maybe we can focus on living wider. And I don't mean gaining weight- see I still have smart-ass tendencies! But if we've ever wondered "is there more to this life," then why should we wait until we're closer to death before we start considering the essence of real living (evidence: notice all the older folks attending church services)?

Namaste,

Carl