So much has happened for me in the time since my last update and this one. Words don’t do justice to life, and I want you to understand that I have a conflicted internal dialogue when it’s time for me to speak my Dharma.

I’m a person of expression. There is a lot inside of me, and just as a paiter expresses his being on canvas, I need to express my truth in words.

Life and it’s mysteries are too great to talk about. Dharma is transcendental, and a the whole is lost when it finds a medium for expression.

Tears, Art, Poetry, Paint, and Prose are the closest thing I know to the whole. These mediums are reserved for those of us who carry the burden of life on our shoulders. We carry it for our Mother and Father. We carry it for all of the lovers and broken hearts.

Some of us became Martyrs. It must be the climax of life to dissappear at the hands of life’s ills.

I like to imagine my friend Megan died with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She was a Martyr. I wish I had the pleasure of her knowing what she did to me. With a heart of pure Gold, this classy lady touched the heart of every sentient being. For everyone she knew, a seed was planted.

For the first time in a year and a month, this seed has started to spring.

Megan, love this is for you.

You had a fine eye for the subtle beauties of life. I took that on.

You were a classy Lady Megan. I can’t forget the smile that creeped on your face and the tilt of your head. Your elegant stride and small shoulders don’t escape my memories.

Megan, its been really hard since you’ve left. I’ve been left in confusion and guilt. I wish you knew this, I found some consolation. I found your friend Celeste. We loved you so much. I thought she was taking care of you, and maybe she thinks I was taking care of you in lieu of her. Both are less true. The truth is that you were taking care of us. You are STILL taking care of us. Megan, I’m sitting at a quiet coffee shop inside from the pouring rain. In this moment I can count a dozen simple pleasures that give me peace and solace. I have an eye for these things because you had and eye for these things, and you were my companion in a time of darkness.

Because of you Megan, I have the care and affection of a real woman. And I can see exactly why you and her were friends. I loved you. She loved you. Everyone loved you Megan because your warm kindness and charisma was unlimited. A soul like yours is rare. I haven’t meet one like you before and I haven’t since.

Megan, we think you are still around here and there. We think you are the song of the birds. We think you are the smell of the rain. We think you’re the light on the moon and the twinkle in the stars. You rest easy in our heart.

Sat Nam

Erik H.

Photo Megan B. By Megan B.