May the light be in you forever,
May the sun love you and keep you,
May the dream make you awaken.
For the stars love to shine upon you,
And the heavens cry for your loss.
May goodness and love flow
through you once more,
Drink of the light and the love here,
Find that we all need you,
May your spirit come back across.
I searched everywhere for love.
I knocked on every door
and turned over every stone.
But it was only until I returned home
that I found love
waiting for me.
It is to the prodigals…that the memory of their Father’s house comes back. If the son had lived economically he would never have thought of returning.
It is always the same. Whether you are walking or going by train, the way always seems shorter the second time than the first. (And that is true of distances that are not to be measured in miles and yards.)
It would be autumn, and our fathers would be out threshing in the fields. We would walk through the mulberry groves, past the big loquat tree and the old lotus pond, where we used to catch tadpoles in the spring. Our dogs would come running up to us. Our neighbours would wave. Our mothers would be sitting by the well with their sleeves tied up, washing the evening’s rice. And when they saw us they would just stand up and stare. “Little girl,” they would say to us, “where in the world have you been?
The place where you continually return for love and acceptance-that’s home.
You cannot disown what is yours. Flung out, there is always the return, the reckoning, the revenge, perhaps the reconciliation.
There is always the return. And the wound will take you there.
Every hour, stop and ask: Am I really present in this moment? If not, what are my thoughts focused on? Doing this often will help you return to the present moment.
Arrival in the world is really a departure and that, which we call departure, is only a return.
Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. Solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence. Time and distance blur the edges; then suddenly the beloved has arrived, and it’s noon with its merciless light, and every spot and pore and wrinkle and bristle stands clear.