Grounded

I've been thinking about coffins.  Wooden ones.  Probably pine because they used those in the westerns, and it all seemed pretty straight-forward.  Plug ‘em and plant ‘em.  And many monks are buried in them still.  I imagine monastics know much more of these things than we civilians.  They live on a particular trajectory toward death...  and life.  So when a monk speaks I generally listen closely.  I'm sure he could be as screwed-up as I am, but even so I dial-in what he's saying.  Especially when he speaks of last things.

I also like the feel of the pine dust as you move your hand across the surface of the lumber.  It lodges in the loops and whorls of the fingertips and has a traveling satisfaction about it, as perhaps something you’re meant to do and enjoy.  And then there’s that mild fragrance.  A transport to Colorado or Montana or Washington.

And maybe they'll add a little muslin inside the coffin to lay me out on.  That would be classy.  And the comfort level won't matter much at that point I don't suppose.  A pillow would be nice, but keep that tufted satin out of there or I might sit up.  That would be the talk of the luncheon.

I know that the monks of New Melleray Abbey in Iowa build coffins.  I also saw one of the brothers there wearing a seed corn hat in a video.  I liked him immediately.

There's also a guy on Vashon Island, WA who builds wooden coffins.  And after viewing this I would invest in one just because of him...