Avalokitesvara
or "Why my mother is Kuan Yin"
I am relatively certain that somewhere, on the Great Celestial List of Amazing People, my mother is highly ranked. Selfless, loving, and devoted to making everyone she meets a more complete human being.
The Home of Lost Souls, she calls her house. A place that takes people in and does what it can for them, with no expectations and no questions asked. Physically and emotionally. An urban fairytale of compassion that I've witnessed for the past two decades.
Staring at them, her pain melted away,
and the odd awareness of her childhood returned:
Every living thing is sacred, infused with
the dance of life, and love spilled out of
her into the universe.
It's strange how parables move back and forth, through time and fiction.