When I consider the nature of aging, looking in the mirror, or when I see a photograph of myself, there is a delay that happens: "This is me. This is me? Is this me, and all that I am?
Skin and freckles, hair and teeth. These are the parts I see changing with every day that I age. However, my soul maintains as it always has; youthful, curious, challenging, and occasionally wise. I wonder if it's aging that makes one more or less aware of their soul.
It's like coming across one's own footprint in the snow and not recognizing it right off, "Oh! That's me?" I am bigger/smaller/wider than I thought.
A few nights ago, I had a dream that was as close as I've ever come to an outer-body experience. It was a dream inside a dream, and I was watching myself sleep, fully aware that I belonged to the woman resting peacefully beside her lover. This filled me with so much fear, because I've never felt that sort of space or freedom before. And I panicked, as though the infinite was drowning me.
What if this is what dying is? Being released from the tangible, finite world. And how do we learn to embrace the changes we experience between body and soul, when the known reality is that none of us are immune to this inevitability.