The title of this post is a quote from Alan Watts.
We are part of this world, made of the mud even. We live by her water, we breathe her air, and eventually we decompose like all other organic matter. We die and become a compost hummus, which a seed, likewise dead, falls into. And from death springs life which then proceeds toward death again. You are, as Watts has said, part of the same ink blot as every other reality that you see. A cosmic calamity and here you are, part of a beautiful opera that often hurts quite bad, as Joseph Campbell put it.
thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.