Very poignant and beautiful insights about mortality. I love how you deftly weave small reflections birds into your contemplations about the funerary practices we engage in.
You are your eleven-year-old! You didn’t screw it up! 😂 What a wonderful image of your wildflower plane and your wind-up radio and your generosity to friends.
I will not be placed in the ground, but I will be satisfied if a blush of robins land on my ashy hill for a moment and look up to the sky together. ⛰️
Love the piece, sighed at the new pace, but get it 💯.
Chloe I love the perfect balance between romantic and practical of your 11-year-old self. I really look forward to the piece you post each week. Thanks for providing the audio narration. It adds so much depth to the experience of your writing.
This lovely meditation on the stuff of our bodies returning to the great swirling sea of matter in which we are already swimming brought to mind Housman’s beautiful poem. Housman touches the same subject:
From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
Now — for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart —
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.
I read something yesterday which said “the truth is always new.” Poets from each generation perform this magic for us. You, Chloe, are one of our generation’s. Thank you.
Vultures have always had such a negative connotation, but here you paint them in such a magnificent light. Imagine having the glorious responsibility of delivery loved ones to the sky.
All God's creatures are beautiful...
(except the few that I am constantly working on. The struggle is real , but being here helps 😉)
I love the differences between Sussex and my part of the world - day vs night, autumn vs spring, white swans vs black - but we share blue skies and beautiful birds and time to cherish peace and love. Take care dear Chloe. Thanks so much for your musings. 🤗🤗😘
Makes me think of the netflix doc "Unknown: Cave of Bones" about the arduous 250,000 year old cave-burial rituals of our long extinct hominid cousins the Homo naledi. Wild to realize we're not the only species that grew to honor life and connection through how we treat our dead.
Your eleven-year-old self was far more switched on and contemplative than I was at that age! A lovely thought and image of a plane full of flowers being released upon a mountaintop resting place.
The collective noun for moths is ‘an eclipse’?! Once again the moon sneaks its way in, somehow. I'm fairly across collective nouns, but I did not know this one. How amazing. I recall the first time I saw a hummingbird hawk moth. It was in our garden when I was maybe 10 or so and my father (a deep lover of the natural world, especially Birds) came running to get me to show me. Stunning creatures. Didn't know they were a good omen, but I'll accept that that was what it was that day.
As always Chloe, your reflections and thoughts are so lovely to read, and I walk away learning something about vultures and cultures that I didn't know. It also makes me reflect on the disparate change of the seasons between North and South as we very much transition into spring down here and I become increasingly excited about the longer days, the warmth of the sun, the blossoming of the trees.
PS I read this from my desk at home, yet to leave for the day, but I hear the Birds out there now, chirping.
This piece is a beautiful contemplation. I especially love the part about the Tibetan burials-when I first learned about that during a class I took. It was a nice contrast compared to how some bodies were displayed in other cultures as more of a warning to not defy the ruling authority. I myself would like to be cremated, with my ashes scattered around specific places that I’ve visited and thought, “This would be a lovely place to live.” but was not able to live there in life.
I also love the image that your 11 year-old self thought of for her burial. A plane full of flowers, pots and pans, and food just in case. Fantasimal yet practical. While I enjoy reading/listening to your insights every week, I also love your idea of doing a post every 10 days in following a season. It’s very different, but also very practical. May your 11 year old self stay with you and remind your current self that practicality is good, but it also doesn’t hurt to be imaginative with fantasy💜
Happy birthday! I hope, one day, to be astounded by an eclipse of hummingbird hawk-moths. Or even a hummingbird. My husband is currently painting every single recorded species of hummingbird (366) in watercolour. I have never seen one in real life, and long to. Also, enjoy the slowdown. I hope you light some candles to warm up the coming winter.
This is lovely and really resonated with me. I spent Sunday morning in a botanical garden contemplating the autumn gathering its forces, a garden which happens to be near a cemetery. Inspired by your observations, somehow I now see the two as interacting with each other. Thank you!
Chloe, are you familiar with Sally Mann's "Body Farm" series? There is also a book called "What Remains." Full disclosure: The images are pretty graphic. Nonetheless, it's a poetic and fascinating meditation on Death and what happens to our bodies in the aftermath.
Your 11 year old self is so awesome and I am also prompted to review my 💀 plan after reading, thanks for the nudge friend 🖤. I love the at I am researching natural burial options and loving it xx
Very poignant and beautiful insights about mortality. I love how you deftly weave small reflections birds into your contemplations about the funerary practices we engage in.
You are your eleven-year-old! You didn’t screw it up! 😂 What a wonderful image of your wildflower plane and your wind-up radio and your generosity to friends.
I will not be placed in the ground, but I will be satisfied if a blush of robins land on my ashy hill for a moment and look up to the sky together. ⛰️
Love the piece, sighed at the new pace, but get it 💯.
Chloe I love the perfect balance between romantic and practical of your 11-year-old self. I really look forward to the piece you post each week. Thanks for providing the audio narration. It adds so much depth to the experience of your writing.
This lovely meditation on the stuff of our bodies returning to the great swirling sea of matter in which we are already swimming brought to mind Housman’s beautiful poem. Housman touches the same subject:
From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
Now — for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart —
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.
I read something yesterday which said “the truth is always new.” Poets from each generation perform this magic for us. You, Chloe, are one of our generation’s. Thank you.
Vultures have always had such a negative connotation, but here you paint them in such a magnificent light. Imagine having the glorious responsibility of delivery loved ones to the sky.
All God's creatures are beautiful...
(except the few that I am constantly working on. The struggle is real , but being here helps 😉)
💜
I love the differences between Sussex and my part of the world - day vs night, autumn vs spring, white swans vs black - but we share blue skies and beautiful birds and time to cherish peace and love. Take care dear Chloe. Thanks so much for your musings. 🤗🤗😘
Makes me think of the netflix doc "Unknown: Cave of Bones" about the arduous 250,000 year old cave-burial rituals of our long extinct hominid cousins the Homo naledi. Wild to realize we're not the only species that grew to honor life and connection through how we treat our dead.
Your eleven-year-old self was far more switched on and contemplative than I was at that age! A lovely thought and image of a plane full of flowers being released upon a mountaintop resting place.
The collective noun for moths is ‘an eclipse’?! Once again the moon sneaks its way in, somehow. I'm fairly across collective nouns, but I did not know this one. How amazing. I recall the first time I saw a hummingbird hawk moth. It was in our garden when I was maybe 10 or so and my father (a deep lover of the natural world, especially Birds) came running to get me to show me. Stunning creatures. Didn't know they were a good omen, but I'll accept that that was what it was that day.
As always Chloe, your reflections and thoughts are so lovely to read, and I walk away learning something about vultures and cultures that I didn't know. It also makes me reflect on the disparate change of the seasons between North and South as we very much transition into spring down here and I become increasingly excited about the longer days, the warmth of the sun, the blossoming of the trees.
PS I read this from my desk at home, yet to leave for the day, but I hear the Birds out there now, chirping.
This piece is a beautiful contemplation. I especially love the part about the Tibetan burials-when I first learned about that during a class I took. It was a nice contrast compared to how some bodies were displayed in other cultures as more of a warning to not defy the ruling authority. I myself would like to be cremated, with my ashes scattered around specific places that I’ve visited and thought, “This would be a lovely place to live.” but was not able to live there in life.
I also love the image that your 11 year-old self thought of for her burial. A plane full of flowers, pots and pans, and food just in case. Fantasimal yet practical. While I enjoy reading/listening to your insights every week, I also love your idea of doing a post every 10 days in following a season. It’s very different, but also very practical. May your 11 year old self stay with you and remind your current self that practicality is good, but it also doesn’t hurt to be imaginative with fantasy💜
Happy birthday! I hope, one day, to be astounded by an eclipse of hummingbird hawk-moths. Or even a hummingbird. My husband is currently painting every single recorded species of hummingbird (366) in watercolour. I have never seen one in real life, and long to. Also, enjoy the slowdown. I hope you light some candles to warm up the coming winter.
This is lovely and really resonated with me. I spent Sunday morning in a botanical garden contemplating the autumn gathering its forces, a garden which happens to be near a cemetery. Inspired by your observations, somehow I now see the two as interacting with each other. Thank you!
"I love the thought of a moth breakfasting on a bouquet of wildflowers growing from my resting place, some 300 years after I’ve died."
💚 it Chloe 🙏🏼
Chloe, are you familiar with Sally Mann's "Body Farm" series? There is also a book called "What Remains." Full disclosure: The images are pretty graphic. Nonetheless, it's a poetic and fascinating meditation on Death and what happens to our bodies in the aftermath.
Beautiful writing, as always. ❤️
Beautifully felt and communicated....thank you.
Happy Chloe Day and for another fabulous listen 🙏🏼
Your 11 year old self is so awesome and I am also prompted to review my 💀 plan after reading, thanks for the nudge friend 🖤. I love the at I am researching natural burial options and loving it xx