Our scars, are the braille of tangled suffering and empathy. Our imagination, is a living legacy of choice, a purposeful consciousness, a community of knowledge and practice. We enter every battle with great sorrow; and even greater compassion. We do not rejoice in victory — the more power we harness, the greater the need for humility.
Lest we forget the innumerable souls that hurt in silence; those abandoned by the moral barbarity of the world; those who have endured the deadening, routinized and alienating commodification of their humanity; and those who yearn for a meaning that transcends atomization, darkness, despair, illness and conflict.
Lest we forget the nameless heroes and exemplars that have transformed impossible dreams into verdant realities; the loving spirits who deliberately host our hopes and aspirations to cultivate moments of divine presence; and those who have sacrificed to create common destinies of purpose and meaning.
Under the aegis of ancestral memory, let us give thanks to that which gives us the moral vigor and permission to do the impossible in the journey to self-becoming. May our work be in service of the visceral freedom of others…
— Lyrical Zen
