Star Light, Star Bright

There's a saying (and a philosophy) that good always wins over evil. I've heard it spoken of numerous times and witnessed several examples of it through personal and vicarious means. Despite all that repeated rhetoric and witnessing, at times it's hard to believe that "good" truly overcomes the "bad" in the end.

I speculate that part of the reason why it's hard to have faith in this concept is that we fail to realize that there are no endings. Not really. Life, existence, and all of its occurrences are just components of a larger cycle we don't always see or grasp. Yet, when you stop to think about it, what causes us to continue despite all of the obstacles that we encounter? Even death isn't really an ending, but rather a transformation into a different type of existence.

This past week a friend of mine passed away suddenly, almost tragically. We met in high school, during those coming of age years most would rather forget but that I've always regarded as some of the best moments of my life. Like most high school friends we stayed in touch for awhile afterwards, but then lost the intensity of our connection as we allowed life's ambitions and choices to separate us.

He was a good friend. I'm sure we had some great conversations that I can't quite recall the exact details of at this moment. I know for certain that we must have had some good ones because I remember his spirit as kind, generous, understanding, and non-judgmental. I remember that he had a sort of calm smile in his eyes, a laid back approach to life, and a proud heart. His present journey ended at 32, leaving behind a wife and two young children. When my mom last saw him he called me "his sister" because in a way I was. I didn't really get to say good-bye, not the way I wanted to. Yet I have faith that he'll be remembered for his kindness, the appreciation he showed to others, and that his family will celebrate his memory.

Death reminds us of the good in people. Most of us don't go to a funeral or a memorial service to recount all the bad things that a person did or the circumstances that might've prevented them from becoming who we thought they should be. No. We go to celebrate their life, what they meant to us, their accomplishments, what they gave back to society, and the essence of who they were. Sometimes they're not even called funerals but rather a "homecoming celebration." You can view that as a "Christian" philosophy of returning to "heaven" and "God," or you can view it as a release back into your "higher self." To me it doesn't matter because essentially those philosophies are the same. Death is a beginning because we become our true selves again, released from our current assignment until it's time for a new one.

I have faith that my friend "B" is just fine. He's no longer just "B." He's more than a star, a part of the universe, or a spirit within consciousness. He's light. And probably a very bright one.