Van Morrison sings about the youth of ten-thousand summers.
This is what my mother felt within herself despite her 92nd year. I know this
to be true because I asked her, and I asked her because I know this to be true.
She would tell whomever were to listen never to grow old. By
this she meant the physical decline that happens to the body. But inside she
knew the spirit of mid-June.
I could never speak to her about some nondual truth of
universal being or absolute awareness, and so I’d just remind her of that inner
self when she would talk to me about her growing old.
And she knew it for a fact because it is, in fact, the only knowledge
that there is. When she was 93 her body died, but that youth of every summer
still remains undying and unborn.
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