I'm thinking about those who know me, those who love me and those who will remember me
when I'm forced to journey to Shakespeare's "undiscovered country", when I'm suddenly snuffed
out Like a lantern in a storm; that inevitable day that owns your very last thoughts, your very last feelings,
your very last taste of life as only the living and breathing can know.

Sadder still is the thought of losing the love from our friends and family. Is it that we all lay in our separate
graves or scatter in solitary winds, alone and cold, sleeping without end, without purpose? Is that last brutal
Moment before we cease to be a functioning organism the panicked, ugly experience and shock we are put to
bed with? We arrive alone on Earth as the coupling of two cells and we leave Earth,alone, as the disintegration
of zillions of cells and their collective memory and being. Is that it? When all of the people who actually knew
us here turn to dust, who will there be to remember us, to love us, to thank God that we once existed? Even a
page in a history book is meaningless in terms of truly knowing and loving that person. Who still remembers
their great, great grandparents or has even heard detailed stories about their hardships and joys? One day, most
of us will be forgotten great, great grandparents who never existed. Then again, we won't have an earthly
consciousness to care at that point, we will be......somewhere else.

It seems that life is so cheap today. People die by the hundreds, sometimes thousands, everday and most
people are so desensitized that they just shrug it off and say, "Gee, what a shame. What's for dinner?" or non-chalantly
say "Better them than me" or perhaps even worse. We too will become a line at the back of the newspaper one day,
another statistic, another toe tag, another burial, another name on a tombstone somewhere. I suppose it's
only our built-in defense mechanism to cope with life that we don't internalize it when one of our fellow
creatures is sucked into the great unknown void.

Or is there an afterlife? Do we join loved ones and recall the joys of our lives on Earth. Does God have a movie
theater where we can watch the movie reels of our life and times in flesh and blood, our journey from cradle to
grave with all of its adventures? Obviously, nobody really knows. Many believe, some don't. What's the truth?
I am inclined to believe, in fact I do believe that there is a God. He knows my doubts from time to time;
please forgive me for my doubts. I think there is some sort of Heaven and eternal memory, so we will
remember each other and our kindred feelings from Earth on the other side; in a way we cannot possibly fathom.

But then again, is it that the light suddenly goes out, leaving you in darkness forever, like when the electricity
goes out in a storm and for a couple of seconds it's pitch black and you're stunned. Or does the light come on again,
revealing a surprise party for you with everybody welcoming you to eternal peace, love and joy?
The truth? Nobody knows, but we can choose to believe or not to believe. However, with rainbows after rain,
dawn after night, love after a fight, a wrong made right, the laws of nature as I see them show that energy doesn't stop,
it is merely redirected or recycled out of our sight. Good always wins over evil, the magic of love lives on and you can turn it off,
but you can't end the light. Bless the millions who have gone before us and the millions that will soon join.
They are all special and each has their own unique autobiography that should be written and read by others, if only in the understanding of and compassion for some stranger who passes by with her own trunk to escape from and by remembering that not everyone is Houdini.

The choice? Right or wrong, for me there is no choice. I believe.

Before my own journey takes another turn or even ends, I feel the need to stand up and share my snapshots of consciousness
along the way thus far. Why not? My thoughts, feelings, views, joys, pains and my life count just as much as anyone else's
and even more to my friends and family to whom this book is dedicated (and count still more to me and my angels!)
You there, reading this......yes, you, your own postcards from your own little epic adventures count too!
I invite you to take a little time and cast an eye on ......the postcards from my trip.

Vaya con Dios,
Allen R. Holland
Summer 1998