I had my first mentor when I was 12 years old. Shipped off to boarding school, one of the teachers was on fire with knowledge and wanted to lay it on us. I decided to get high instead, drowning out the noise of his inspiration. The next mentor presented himself when I was 19. Again, the gift was knowledge and the magic of books, the written word and poetry. Poetry! The songs of souls. This time I knew the gift before me, but my demons were dug in and their screams for more drowned out the songs in my head. My next mentor arrived as I was dying. The student was ready and the master appeared. He offered life over death and asked only everything in return. He asked that I surrender. I did. The last 33 years have been filled with books, poetry, music and more. The overriding gift, that thing he gave me, was access to all the outside world has to offer and beyond my wildest dreams. He offered me redemption through my service to others. He offered this beautiful way to connect to the human race that was not about me and my fear-based mind. He offered an end to loneliness and an everlasting peace. He never once lied to me. He made good on it all. He died many years ago but lives on in me and many others. His name was Donald. He lives. Love, E
Posted on: Thu, 21 Aug 2014 23:51:53 +0000
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