{"id":136,"date":"2022-11-04T08:13:52","date_gmt":"2022-11-04T08:13:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/?p=136"},"modified":"2022-11-04T08:13:52","modified_gmt":"2022-11-04T08:13:52","slug":"i-might-be-ice","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/2022\/11\/04\/i-might-be-ice\/","title":{"rendered":"I Might be Ice"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Last week in our Spirit Play class things started a little haphazardly. \u00a0I was running late for one and my teacher friends were running even later than me. \u00a0There was a little chaos as we gathered in the hallway together and then moved into the classroom in a big bunch to sit on the rug. \u00a0Somehow everyone decided to sit in one corner instead of on their square. \u00a0Name tags were missing. \u00a0None of us were \u201cready\u201d to begin class. \u00a0Someone brought over a book. \u00a0Someone wanted to sit on my lap.<\/p>\n

One persistent child has been asking for weeks if we would please talk about death today. \u00a0I have been telling her that in some way, all stories of change are stories about life and death, but she did not want to deal with metaphor. \u00a0She wanted to talk, straight up, about death. \u00a0This was our second week of life cycle stories so I assured her that yes, we would talk about frogs today\u2026and death. \u00a0 Before I could get us organized, another child piped up and wistfully said that she really wished she was Jesus so when she gets dead, she will come alive again. \u00a0And that\u2019s all it took. \u00a0The conversation was out of the mouth. \u00a0Someone chimed in that they know that, yes, all things do die. \u00a0Someone else wondered what happens after someone dies. \u00a0Another child said that things die, but maybe not her. \u00a0Yet another child insisted that their mother told her that everything else might die, but not her. \u00a0I smiled amused and echoed that yes, everything does die. \u00a0That\u2019s true. \u00a0And then, someone wondered what we would be when we came back. \u00a0Would we be ice?<\/p>\n

Now this question captured me. \u00a0A few years ago when our cat was killed, my son asked to hear stories about kids who had died and come back. \u00a0I did a lot of research on near death experiences and so that reading entered my mind at the thought of coming back after death. \u00a0When I talk to my kids about death and they ask this question about coming back we trace the mystery\u2026.no one knows, but some people think we are just gone when we die, others think we come back again maybe in a new life. \u00a0But ice? \u00a0I had never thought of coming back as ice. \u00a0So we thought about it together.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe\u201d I said. \u00a0The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me likely that we are indeed ice at some point in our lives and after our deaths. \u00a0\u201cDid you know\u201d, I said \u201cthat your body is mostly made of water? \u00a0Actually, if you live in St. Paul and drink water from the sink, most of your body is made out of the Mississippi River.\u201d \u00a0The room exploded with exclamations. \u00a0\u201cNo! \u00a0We aren\u2019t the river! \u00a0What?!\u201d \u00a0\u201cYes\u201d, I said \u201cWe are the river and that water moves through our bodies all the time. \u00a0Was there ice on the river this winter?\u201d \u00a0The children said yes there was ice on the river. \u00a0\u201cThen it\u2019s probably a sure thing that some of the water that has made your body was ice before it was part of you and will be ice again after you die.\u201d \u00a0Again, loud exclamations erupted. \u00a0\u201cNo way! \u00a0That can\u2019t be true! \u00a0I don\u2019t believe that!\u201d \u00a0It was a delightful exploration that ended as we found our way to our squares marveling at the amazing things that were just said.<\/p>\n

This reflection has sat with me this week. \u00a0I often contemplate breath in my own practice. \u00a0The breath is a transient part of our body and aliveness. \u00a0We share the breath with all things breathing that have ever lived on our planet. \u00a0The words for spirit and breath are the same in many languages and the action and metaphor of the breath can hold deep meanings for our reflection\u2026.but water. \u00a0I don\u2019t think of myself often as a water cycle, but I am. \u00a0Water is coming and going through me all the time. \u00a0It is a resource that is finite on our planet and shared among all living things. \u00a0The water was yesterday part of the river and today is nourishing me and then will move back into the river, be evaporated into the sky, fall as rain on a pond and nourish the frog and the fish and the plants. \u00a0It makes me wonder as much as meditation on the breath, where my edges are? \u00a0If I am water am I everywhere at once? \u00a0Am I the oceans? \u00a0Am I the clouds? \u00a0Who am I to feel separate and alone if we are all one wave together or one fog or one sheet of ice? \u00a0What an interesting version of eternal life. \u00a0How do I care for the water in me, for the water of our planet so it is pure and healthy and not degraded and fouled? \u00a0How do I honor the connection between us that is so much more than the difference? \u00a0I am contemplating this as I drink in the Mississippi River, as I walk in the rain and look for the greening of spring, as I look into your eyes.<\/p>\n<\/section>\n<\/article>\n<\/header>\n<\/article>\n

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Last week in our Spirit Play class things started a little haphazardly. \u00a0I was running late for one and my teacher friends were running even later than me. \u00a0There was a little chaos as we gathered in the hallway together and then moved into the classroom in a big bunch to sit on the rug. \u00a0Somehow everyone decided to sit in one corner instead of on their square.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":137,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-136","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-category"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=136"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":138,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136\/revisions\/138"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/137"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=136"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=136"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=136"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}