And We became a river.

The body gives its last breath to the sacred waters of the Ganga. Waters that hold thousands of years of chants, pujas (offerings), prayers, silences. The skin can completely loosen and give itself over to death, the skeleton lies covered by lifeless muscles. The dead are bathed in the waters of the Ganges and then burned in wooden towers transported by boat. I stay for a while feeling the water of Ganga on my body and as if I were dead, feeling the effect of redemption in its waters. I too am the loose skin and the same lifeless muscles. I am those bodies letting me die. I rest. I feel the rest.

I am the dead and I am the river, I am the fire and I am the prayers. I am also the water that washes the dead, the water to which I offer, bless, sing, and thank. I make myself sacred water. I wash myself of myself and I burn myself of myself. I make myself a torrent in which my deaths and my bodies can also be submerged.

I became dead How to learn to die? How to learn to trust so much that the mind can detach itself from the body and the body can detach itself from the bone? Learning to die we all became rivers. Learning to be rivers we all became prayers

For the more scientific, remember that experiment they do on water with offensive words and with words of love and how the water molecules change in both cases; now, think about the effect on the water of a praised, blessed river, cultivated in prayers of love, daily offered by thousands and thousands of pilgrims, sadhus, rishis. Those same waters, the waters of the goddess Ganga receive the death that comes and takes us away. Therefore, far from whether you believe or not in one God or another, I wonder about the waters that we are and our relationship with them. Are my waters blessed, grateful, nourished by love or stagnant, ignored, invisible, malnourished, empty, suffering ?