I Am.
A cartographer of consciousness.
A conservateur of memory.
A scholar of truth.
A teacher of unknowingness.
A messenger of provocation.
A diplomat of détente.
An usher of justice.
A servant of the Unservable. An interpretor of the Unintelligible. A student of the Unlearnable.
That I Am.
All the while, I happen to be a derelict dishwasher, a shitty spatial organizer, a high-maintenance lover, a prostitute for salt, a comedian of sacrilege, a purveyor of scandal, a rebel with and without causes, and a lover of all things unorthodox.
And yet, I can make a toilet sparkle like nobody's biz, cook amazing sauce yassa, dance like both everyone and noone is looking, and can show up - really show up - for friends in time of need. I am also a pretty good parent, or rather student to my child, and am becoming a better partner. Most critically, I am learning to love myself as a perennial work-in-progress.
In the realms of vocation, I have played the roles of international academic, philanthropist, scholar, activist, editor, and emissary. Prior to entering the unreal world, I also toiled as a restaurant server, retail wage laborer, cosmetic counter attendant (likely in an alternate universe), telemarketing agent (fairly certain the same applies here) and during childhood, even hustled as a lemonaid stand attendant and door-to-door oatmeal cookie peddler. In many ways, these early professions taught me far more than the later ones.
Rite of Return, then, is the crescendo of my manifold careers, the culmination of my aspirations to remember, reconcile, and redeem the contradictions of this existence within myself, so that I can accompany others in their pursuit of the same.
With love. Always with, through, and as love, Audra
Requiem in cognicione:
Neither the sacred, nor profane are ever exempt from the laws, mine and ours, of the division of unification, the infinity in oneness, the subjugation accompanying liberation, the degradation throughout exaltation, the heteronomy in sovereignty, or the unfreedom of free will. I hereby invoke all these rights due to you, me, and to all that which relates us, with the venerating, yet unrelenting reminder that as you observe me and I observe you, that which observes Observation, calculates Calculation, and justifies Justice will exercise its authority to the fullest extent of the Verse. And so it is, and so you are blessed.
The Praise
I am the first to admit that I do some things really well and many things not so well. My hope is to vivify Rite of Return with the former, while continuing to pay mind to the latter.
So rather than call attention to my virtues as a strategy for securing your patronage, I would rather sing the praises of the many talented teachers, healers, and comrades who have helped marshal me to this moment, all the while paying homage to the Grace that animates us all in delivering our unique service to the world.
At this time, I laud:
My teacher and healer, Rena Davis:
Because of you, I am here.
Because of you, I see myself being seen.
Because of you, I comprehend that the chemistry of the Mystery matters.
Because of you, I understand that I do not and cannot ever fully understand how science and spirituality constitute one another.
But also because of you, I do know that to be alive is to constantly seek this understanding, and it is in doing so that I become the Creator in both spirit and substance, at once.
***
To Ryushin, my sensei of meditation, dharma, and of practice without bounds:
Thank you for loving me while I was learning to love myself.
In my slumber and in my wakefulness, thank you for seeing the parts of me I am yet unable and unwilling to see.
Thank you for teaching me not to be an asshole, all the while showing me that becoming a more conscious, skillful, and halfway-humble asshole is what this life is all about.
But most of all, thank you for teaching me that the cosmic riddle is not a question of whether the glass is half empty or half full, but rather that I fill my cup through the recognition that it - and everything else - has always been empty and forever shall be...
until this, too, does change.
***
To my mentor who, by request, shall remain nameless:
I love your laugh. No really, it's my most beloved thing about you. So here's something to give you one: Did I ever tell you that the book Are You My Mother? was my favorite as a a young child?
Indeed.
Thank you for playing the roles of good mother, mean mother, Mummy Dearest, magnanimous mother, self-sacrificial mother, spiteful mother, hip mother, jealous mother, saintly mother, and Mother Divine.
Thank you for reflecting all matter of mothering to me until I finally, at long last, could remember this:
that, much like heaven and hell, Origin-Source-Earth-Mother is neither a person, place, nor thing to be found outside of myself, but rather a state to locate within.
And most importantly, thank you for reminding me to detect, dust off, and power up the ol' echolocation system within me that was lost, but now found, and which will always, without fail, lead me back Home.
Until it doesn't. And round and round the spiral we go! Fun to know we'll be seeing each other on it again!
(Your cackle is audible through the ether).
Muah. I know that you know that I know that in our heart of hearts, we feel them beat as one. An eternity of lifetimes of gratitude just for you, my dear soul.