Mitcecacihuatl died being born. And in that accepts the highest exaltation. Elevation to rule the 9th Underworld, where all live in death excepting the warriors killed in battle and the mothers ascending during delivery. And the ones struck by lightening. Yes, a special place reserved for them.

Mitcecacihuati, though, hosts all us others' after-after party. No one here lifts a toast to her. No animated stories, no myths, no status. Because she didn't live long enough to merit even a simple fond memory. Overhere, no body knew Mitcecacihuati. In death, she is omnipotent.

The implications are hence momentous for short incarnations. And our long ones; we can only assume are pure flesh, positively human, drama indulgent experiences for souls who have a little evolution to do. Most of us must gather seeds before the vine will grow.

But eventually, we all get to die. No matter how long it takes. It is ours.
Rest assured.

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