Dying is a lonely bizness. (See, I spelled business differently so I could be original!)

I guess I consider myself a humanist/athesit/I wish death wasn't the end-ist. Lemme explain. No no, it's too much. Let me sum up.

Growing up (indoctrinated) into Lutheranism I had a strong belief in God. Fast forward to post high school years and I started to question things. I got into paganism really strongly for a long time and I liked it here. Non judgey, free spirited and all inclusive. A very cool philosophy. Fast forward a few years into this paganism morphing into simple spirituality and we've reached the point in my life where I've felt most comfortable with my spiritual beliefs.

I didn't believe in a God - but I did believe there was a tie that binds. A thread that connects every living thing. This thread was not an evil thread, nor was it a good thread as threads cannot be good or evil. It was just there constantly connecting us all. When we died we would achieve some other kind of awareness and who we are in the center - the rich creamy hazelnut center of us all - would live on forever because energy cannot be destroyed, it can only change form.

This belief was superior to my previous beliefs because it was truly all inclusive. There was nothing to sell or fear or try to prove yourself to. It was just a quiet knowing that we continue.
But somewhere along the line I lost this belief. Was it directly related to my husbands interests? Sure. But he was not the first atheist I encountered. I've known plenty of them and loved plenty of them too. I was, of course, interested in knowing more about what he believed..or didn't believe...and it was this knowing that forced me to drop the spiritual talk.

It's like finding out santa doesn't exist. Once you know it you can't pretend like you don't. And while I feel like my most satisfying previous view of life and death made me happy, I understand that it has not and cannot be proven. Or disproven. But it is very unlikely to be true.

I want to be happy about it. It is rare for a person to see facts and drop what he wants to be true for what he knows is. I can do that and for that I am proud of myself. The thing is I'm not happy about this death thing. I'm pretty mad about it, actually. But let me tell you why.

I feel like more. That's why. I feel like more than this limited time I have on earth and how is it fair, for even one moment, that I should raise a child and love a husband and have friends that mean so much to me and care for my parents and one day I lose it all? If only God existed so that I could be mad at him. And I won't lost it in big chunks, it will slowly fall away. Or I will.

I feel like I am made of magic, at times. Like the way the Fall breeze blows through my hair and thrills me or the feeling I get when I smell incense is so impossibly important and intricate that it can't be mere evolution. It must be ME. A deep and soulful me who not only lives but feels. The idea that that can end - that it will - is painful.

But I can't get away from the truth. I see what science has to offer and understand this to be the most logical answer, one that I would like to be okay with before I die. This is growth on a new level only I'm not branching off into some other wacky belief system. I'm finally growing UP. And I like it. I like what it has to say, I dig it. I just don't like this death stuff.

Magic is real.

No, not the witchy spell kind. The feeling.

Yesterday was a beautiful Fall day right in the beginning of summer. It was overcast and gray, and chilly enough to need long sleeves. I love those kinds of days, when it threatens to rain and you're never quite sure when it's going to hit.
I spent the morning napping and finally woke up to my husband playing around on the computer. I decided errands were paramount, so we took off for the better part of the day enrolling me in school, shopping at the Farmers Market, lunching and spending time together.
After a delicious bath I started to get ready for the shoot. The TV shoot. The one where I play headmistress of a school and more importantly, the devil herself.
I fill my bag with all the requirements. Velvet corset, leather skirt, black stockings, knee high leather boots, a whip and of course devil horns.
My 45 minute trek was peaceful, as I listened to Tori Amos and the smell of my Vampire Lestat perfume oil filled the car with reminders of adolescent adventures. I arrived at the shoot in Pontiac and walked into the haunted house. As if it didn't feel like Fall already I was getting a sneak peek into this four story attraction that is being readied for Halloween - the most holiest of holidays.
I am immediately sat in a make up chair where, for the better part of an hour, I sit and think about the magic going on. It's a feeling. A desire for adventure. And I am here in the whirlwind of makeup and line readings and werewolves and witch doctors and laughter.
They're ready for me unusually early this time and I peel myself out of that chair at last. I'm amazed at the way I look, at the transformation the artists has done. I was unaware that I could look that way.
Now the best part. The costume. First comes the stockings, then the boots followed by the skirt and finally the corset. My hair is pinned up, my horns are set in place and I am ready to be on set.
It's warm. I am being oggled at first entrance. Complimented and clearly lusted after. I may not agree with everything these men think, but I still know what they're thinking. A girl is tied up in a chair on the set. Shes dressed in a school girl uniform and her arms are bound. A whip hands around my neck, a pair of plyers in my hands. We roll. I do the whole thing in one take, and exit to applaud.

I sneak into my house, take off my makeup and tip toe into my bedroom. My sweet husband kisses me and tells me that he loves me while snuggeling up to me. I fall asleep next to him, completley confident in his abilities to take care of our daughter when I am away. I am happy and complete.

This is magic. This is life. This is what it means to actually FEEL alive, not just BE alive.