The Glow of Us

Lighter than flesh, the soul is the glow of us.
The soul is the particular glow that the genes make when they make.
It’s the soul that stands the body up and gets it moving forward.
Every body’s soul is on a journey.

–Dennis Downey, We Never Go Away

Thanks to Fran for leading me to his thoughtful words. Like Fran, I recommend you read the entire piece, but moreover, listen to the recording. His voice is distinctive and is part of the meaning.

Explore posts in the same categories: Humanities, Quotes

2 Comments on “The Glow of Us”

  1. Fran aka Redondowriter Says:

    Well, thank you so much for mentioning him here via Sacred Ordinary. When I first read your post I thought, “Wow, I like this–and then–wow, this is familiar.”

  2. Laurel Says:

    Thanks for this. I needed to read this man’s words this morning. Every gene, a genie. Indeed.

    I love the final stanza posted on NPR about how we never really go away and that question: Why would we? It reminds me of how good, how right I felt that day my mother poured my father’s ashes into the waves. It heartens me to know that he’s out there, that he’s a part of the ocean. I think it would’ve made him really really happy. He didn’t want to be put in the ground but he never really discussed any plans about what he did want. We guessed. Plus, cremation ended up being the cheapest option (that was the single most important real-world lesson I’ve learned as an adult when my father died–it’s damned expensive to die and the death industry feeds on our ignorance–even the cheapest, most no-frills casket ain’t cheap). He always joked that he wanted to be propped up against a tree in a forest when he died–which made sense since he was of native american descent. I remember while discussing all the nitty gritty details of the obit and arrangements in the funeral parlor (and it WAS a funeral parlor, one of those old homes, not one of those new, pristine funeral centers with grief counselors on hand and a kitchen in the basement to feed the grieving masses…), I pulled an old, old book of one of the shelves that discussed in great detail all of the various funeral rituals of different cultures—(sorry I’m rambling…)–and there was a photo of one of those “hammocks” that certain tribes used to use here in America—the body would be laid out on this hammock that had been slung up high in a tree. I reall loved the idea of that and I know my dad would’ve too.

    One last thing, then I’ll go. I regret that I didn’t take up the funeral arranger’s (what the hell is his job title?) offer to accompany the body to the crematorium. At the time, I recall recoiling when he asked if any of us wanted to be there. We all said NO! too quickly A few years later, after seeing a documentary about death customs which included footage of a family standing at the edge of a river in India where the body of a loved one was laid out on a platform, and seeing how one of the family members stepped up and lit the deceased’s head on fire… if it were a wick, the body a candle….I regretted deeply not going to the crematorium.

    I might write a poem.

    My father was smoke, my father is sky.

    Thanks for letting me ramble…