As I so often do, I have been considering this idea of “wholeness” and “completion” upon death. When I read back on my posts of feeling so broken, and the repair stitching the self back together to be held fast but not ever again what it once was, it would seem that through our incarnate selves we are stripped down to the component parts and fashioned together again into functional, or semi-functional, beings again. Kind of smashing together but not being smooth, or seamless, or even completely complete because we will always be re-shaped in our lives. Just the simple process of aging tells us that we are not the same one day to the next, always evolving. And so it is that I have come to believe that maybe once we die, we join our missing place seamlessly into the cosmic weave. That somehow we needed to experience the breaking, the tearing down, the dis-assemblage in order to bring new information to the cosmic home of our spark, and that in itself creates more wholeness. Sort of like we are sent here to find loads of missing eggs in order to return them all to the great hive we all are driven by: the life force. That force that governs us all. Whatever that is, whatever you want to call it, or perceive of it, or deny its mystery. Or maybe we are never quite whole, maybe we evolve into eternity and constancy is something that we seem to ever wish for but can never really have.