I loved sitting next to the river after being up the hills with Milo. He sat or stood, a bit restless for a while, especially if it was cold, but often just cuddled into me. The noise and the flow of the river, ever changing depending on the weather, hypnotised me and put a smile on my face every time. Over time I saw, more and more apparently and obviously, myself as well as Milo and all of mankind in the river, in the hills, the animal life and cyclic existence of nature and the plants and grasses.
I sort of wondered where exactly we went when we died, or what went where, and how it continued to exist, in what form, but it was better not to analyse it scientifically like this I thought. It was a comfort in a way, and a magnificent complexity of unanswerable how and whys, but I believed it more and more over time, and more than that I felt it, when I took the time to feel it and soak it up, as well as being open and ready to absorb the interdependence of life and of the world.
And I knew, and I know, that to build that fortress around ourselves, feigning immortality and running about with blinkers on, denying death to the last breath, thinking we as an individual are the whole world and taking our toys and locking them away denying them to our friends and fellow beings, was infinitely wrong. Not only wrong, but was the opposite of right, in that by being selfless was the key to fulfillment and meaning in our short lives. I slowly tried to change that individualistic and selfish mentality that I’d had for many many years, and strive to be the person who would help the stranger rather than crossing to the other side.