Ravenshook Cliffs kurukshetra

set for Oct. 1

 

you were never born; you will never die.
you have never changed; you can never change;
unborn, eternal, immutable, immemorial,
you do not die when the body dies.
realizing that which is indestructible, eternal, unborn, and unchanging,
how can you slay or cause another to slay?

his mother once told him a story about a little pup, lost in the woods. so deep into the woods he went that there seemed no hope of finding him again. but he wandered into a mire, leaving tracks behind. step by step, the hints he dropped were unmistakable. his parents found him, and all was well.

drip. drip. drip. not tracks but blood, marking where he'd stepped. step by aching step, the hints he dropped were unmistakable. they would find him, and they would kill him. all would be. . .

as one abandons worn-out clothes and acquires new ones,
so when the body is worn out a new one is acquired by the self,
who lives within.

somehow, with what little strength he has left, he makes the precarious journey down the cliffs, to the sea. the ocean laps at his paws. he lays on his belly and lets it wash over him. the salt stings in his wounds, and he hisses sharply, teeth gritted. the pain is--unbearable. blood blooms outward in the water, like a cloud.

his body is purified, but his mind is not.

because he will never forget.

and he will never forgive.

he continues to bleed, and knows if he lets it go, he will die. but perhaps that is best. perhaps his death will be best for everyone.

though how can he deny them the satisfaction of ripping him apart?

he is already torn asunder;

now complete the job.

he loses himself completely, loses his grasp on the world. the waves roll around him, and take him down. down. . .down. . .down he goes, and he wonders if this is his fate. to wake to silken black fur and cerulean eyes, and relive the cycle of suffering, until his soul is clean.

the self cannot be pierced by weapons or burned by fire;
water cannot wet it, nor can the wind dry it.
the self cannot be pierced or burned, made wet or dry.
it is everlasting and infinite, standing on the motionless foundations of eternity.
the self is unmanifested, beyond all thought, beyond all change.

Bhagavad-Gita