Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. This picture of Dan Tregenza shows him in his artist's studio in Santa Barbara. After he died on February 27,1997, at age 43, Pma found that he had marked a passage in a book by his bedside, Zen Flesh, Zen Bones . It is not an existence, which is perishable.