Coffin

Coffin: (n) a long, narrow box in which a corpse is buried or cremated.

Staring down into the face of my older brother, who was quite dead, lying in a coffin, motionless, with eyes closed.

It freaked me out–mainly because I was staring at the bier. That’s another word for coffin. Now I’m just trying to show off. I tend to do so when I’m nervous. And looking at a coffin made me nervous.

Until that moment, I did not realize that I suffer from claustrophobia. Even though I was supposed to be the strong brother to support my nephew, sister-in-law and all the other relatives, I temporarily had to excuse myself and walk away to try to regain my state of mind.

All I could think about was lying in that coffin, scrunched, and having the lid shut down on my face. Every time that vision came to my brain, my heart started to pound and I found it difficult to breathe.

I was embarrassed.

I wanted to make sure no one observed my panic attack, so I found a private room and stepped inside. Unable to locate a light switch, I stood in the dark, finding no comfort whatsoever from my vision of horror.

Even though I am certain there was nobody in the room with me, I sensed a thought floating across the blackened space, landing in my consciousness. It wasn’t exactly verbalized, but it was very comforting.

The notion translated to my irrational thinking was, “Keep in mind, when you go in the coffin, you don’t have to breathe anymore.”

I laughed. It was so true. By the time I was fitted–or unfitted–for this box, I would be without the need for much of anything.

And of course, if it still freaked me out, they could always burn me up.

 

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Circulation

Circulation: (n) movement to and fro or around something, especially that of blood in the body.

“If da blood don’t get der, you be dead.”

It’s not exactly a quote from a medical journal, but it’s still true.

At one time I had poor circulation in my left foot, which made it impossible for the blood to get down there and clean out an infection
through medication.

So I lost two toes.

I’m not looking for sympathy–just a realistic appreciation that circulation has to happen.

In the body it’s blood. If the blood doesn’t get there, it turns gray and dies.

The same thing is true with life in general. When the circulation of newness, freshness, open thinking, forgiveness and compassion does not reach our soul parts, we just turn gray and die.

Just as it takes a good bit of exercise to keep some pink in the old man’s cheeks, it requires a lot of awareness, gentleness and even humor to keep each of us in the pink with our brothers and sisters–especially those younger ones who assume that as soon as we creak, we’re ready to croak.

Circulation of blood requires movement.

Circulation of spirit means that we need to move toward solution instead of taking our cemented ideas and building really, really, really big walls.

 

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