Muhammad Ali, the great boxer, promoter and inspirational figure made his transition last night. I don’t say he died because in the world I now live in, I don’t see people dying. I see people going home. I see people graduating. I see people completing their missions.
I old enough to remember when Cassius Clay was a brash, vibrant young man. When he could float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. His boxing career caused an advanced case of Parkinson’s. His body had betrayed him. He barely spoke in public because he was ashamed of his speech. At 74, he moved like an old man. To be in that body had to be like being in a prison cell.
I heard yesterday that he was in grave condition. I’m sure his family would have wanted to keep him around another decade or two. There will be a great deal of sadness today as we baby boomers reflect on losing another icon from our youth. But there is celebration in heaven as the Champ arrives. And there is celebration from Ali as he is free of this mortal body of death and can now float like a butterfly once again.
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