When the man comes around

I've been thinking a lot about life, death, and the meaning of it all. Am I really Pagan? I know I'm not Christian. What do I want out of life? What do I want my life to mean? What do I want out of death?

I only know one thing for certain, and that's how I want my body treated after death. I don't care what happens to my stuff. As far as I care it can be sold to pay for my funeral. My pets need a good home. At the moment Willow would probably go to Joe. Rowan to my parents, and Balsa to ether Fish or my cousin Cora. My body I want it stripped naked and buried in a Natural Cemetery. (hats a cemetary that doesn't do coffins and headstones. There's one almost in town) I have nothing of value that I want buried with me.

Currently I guess I may be leaning more towards Atheistic Pagan with Asatru philosophy. The only poem I want read is:

"Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep"

 Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there; I did not die.