It’s raining outside right now and the thunder feels appropriate. The man whom I call Teacher lies unconscious in a hospital bed. Found, unsuspectingly unconscious - god knows for how long. Unresponsive. Not breathing on his own. So many difficult events like this, seem as though they're happening around me, rapidly like exploding embers in a fire. I am unable to do anything but stand back and watch the bright, seathing sparks fly as they crackle and shrink. How long do I remain here before I myself am burned?
He is my Teacher, my Guide, and my Master. I have recently taken a small hiatus from my studies, for no known reason aside from the natural ebb and flow of my life. Today I regret my latest un-involvement.
I am trying to not worry, trying to stay positive that everything will turn out just fine. In the end, I’m sure it will. My heart just aches for the what-if’s. What if he doesn’t end up okay? Will I have missed? Will I have done enough, shown enough devotion? How many times did I have the opportunity to sit at the feet of a Master, and instead I involved myself in the meager aspects of my life? How will I ever make sense of that trade? Choosing mediocrity instead of the open door to All of Creation.
He beckons me home. He invites me. He welcomes me. It is I who lacked courage and strength, drive and devotion. The rain makes everything new.
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