Birthday Note to Myself

My Love may die before morning.
But I have been with her for eight years.
There is no way I could be cheated if I didn't
have her for another day.
I didn't deserve her for one minute, God Knows.

And I may die before morning.

What I must do is die TODAY.
I must accept the justice of death and
the injustice of more "life."
I have had a good life -
joyous and longer than many, better than most.
Junthip* died when she was twenty six.
I have had thirty years.
I couldn't justify another day.
I did not create myself, it is a gift.
I am me, that is the miracle.
I had no right to remain a single hour.
Some remain a single minute.
And yet I have had thirty years.

Few consciously choose when they will die.
I choose to accept death now.
As of this moment I give up my "right" to live.
And I give up my "right" to her life.

But it's morning.
Within my hands is another day to listen and to love
and walk and glory.
I am here for another day.

I think of those who aren't.

What does it mean to be here?
What does it mean to have FRIENDS?
What does it mean to get dressed, to have a meal, to work?
What does it mean to come home?
What is difference between the living and the dead?

I sometimes wonder if the "dead" are not more present,
more comfort, more here than most of the living.

Today I want to do things to be doing them,
not to be doing something else.
I don't want to paddle to get there,
be there to make themjoy,
or study to "keep abreast".

I don't want to do things to sell myself on myself.
I don’t want to do nice things for people
so that I will be "nice".
I don't want to work to make money,
I want to work to work.

Today I don’t' want to live for,
I want to live.

Anyway, Happy Birthday Jitu cha.


Note excerpted from Book,"Note to Myself" by Hugh Prather and rearranged