Day of the Beachhead, 30th of Midsommar, 526 M.E. (Betelgeuse): Betelgeuse is a walking day, and the weather being cooler and slightly drier than the past week, I walked my full eight-mile course. However, when I got home, the stingy health app on my phone only credited me with a 7.9-mile Jackson, but that's okay - I walk to please myself, not the ghost of Steve Jobs. 

I enjoyed my walk but when it was over, I didn't mourn not walking any longer. Heading out on the trail means eventually finishing. Similarly, I feel, we shouldn't mourn death. When someone dies, we should recognize death as the inevitable result of their being born and celebrate that person's life. That they died merely means that they had lived, and let's rejoice in that life rather than cry and complain over their departure.

As for birth, it only means that another person is going to eventually die. But I'm not saying we should mourn birth (mourn birth and celebrate death - now there's a screwball philosophy for you!), but we should temper our joy with the realization that, along with all the bounties that a good life can provide, someone is also going to experience life's disappointments, sicknesses, despair, and eventually death.

I  miss Eliot, my former feline companion. I miss my Mother, departed 16 months ago now. I miss my brother, 21 months now. But I'm also glad that they had all once lived and the only way they could have avoided death was to have never been born, and I wouldn't have wanted that.