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In exile

In exile, we must do as the goddess Innana did, surrendering layer after layer of armor and adornment, until we are bare. We must then undergo a symbolic death of the old life in order to be reborn with greater resilience and a holy assignment to carry forward. The initiated adult has learned to withstand uncertainty, has paid a debt to the gods through his loss and his grief, and has decided to make beauty with his life as the future ancestor that he is.

Toko-Pa Turner

Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home

(Borrowed from Pamela Saharah Dyson’s book, “Premka, White Bird in a Golden Cage”)

Ancestor

Such a powerful statement. What can I add to it? How can I understand it? How can I take my life to the future ancestor I will become? For me, this is the key: Living to that which I will leave behind me after I’m gone. How will people remember me? What will they say of Hargobind who tried to live to higher purpose and who tried to serve others?

The loss of innocence is strong and it is terrible to contemplate, yet, it is a chance for me. How do I resurrect from these ashes of grief and the present threat that my life may have been, in part, a lie? How do I regain the love and purpose that was once there and hope that it hasn’t left me forever? What words will now spring forth from my lips when I speak with you?

I am ready to remove the layers of my grief, of the fallen angel within me, and of the false ideas I once cherished. I am ready to stand bare before you, my god, that you may again find me worthy. Now, it isn’t important to me what others may think of me; it only matters what I might think of me.

I wish to be reborn again as the green bough comes back to the tree and the buds open to the colors of the land and to life itself. Like the early morning mist that covers the fields; let the mist covering my eyes see what was once blind to them.

In the light of Khalil Gibran: As the potter must mold and shape a hundred thousand times with his hands the clay before he can see the beauty of the creation before him. So let me mold the clay of my heart so that beauty shines through. As the carpenter meticulously and lovingly works the pieces of the wood before him so that they fit together seamlessly; so do I desire that there are no gaps left between the pieces of my life. May my understanding of union be like the carpenter’s mastery.

I give thanks to her who shares the effortlessness of her beauty with me, for I know she has found harmony and essence in her soul and I too want that. And those who would share their song of love with me, let it be reason enough for the song of my heart to want to sing with them too.

In the twilight after the rain, when the calm of the heavens has descended over the earth and men’s souls have quieted; I too will share with you the hope and despair of my days without the worry that may have once been there between us. For hope was mixed eternally with truth and though it may have seemed to have left us; she was only waiting to show us the deeper side of her love. And though the clouds before me may have stolen the light from my eyes; my heart has always known how to see.

 So take me all the gods as you will, and wring me out until there is nothing left of the old clothes I wore and now wish to be rid of. Place over my head the raiments you wish to and I will gladly wear their colors as treasure that I must now protect. I have always been your devotee and servant and I see no reason to stop now.

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