“He was now ready to start on his journey. He looked sad. The old man said: “Start, my son. You have to go a long way.” He started moving towards the door. The old man raised his voice: “Do not worry that you might be robbed of your possessions. None can rob you of your self”. Then he gave him his rosary: “Keep this, or better still wear it around your neck.”
“Give me a sign for the journey,” the young man requested with a choking voice. The old man held him in his embrace, and said: “Let this reflection of the moon in the river be a sign to you. Let your self-remembering be like this reflection!”
And so the moon is reflected in the river. The river flows yet the reflection remains. The self-remembered is just like that—we travel along, drawn to some unseen ocean. All the while, the face of the Beloved remains on the river of the soul. And so when we remember the self, it is with a capital “S”. For we are made in the image of the Beloved. And we get to adventure through the valleys of forgetting until we reach the shores of remembrance, where all souls spill into His—and where–miracle of miracles—we do not lose ourselves in that Ocean–we find ourselves. To be His Child means we are free, and just as the river branches, we spread out into the world—flowing through forests and cities, jungles and villages—revealing His face as reflected through us, to everyone we meet.
“He was now ready to start on his journey. He looked sad. The old man said: “Start, my son. You have to go a long way.” He started moving towards the door. The old man raised his voice: “Do not worry that you might be robbed of your possessions. None can rob you of your self”. Then he gave him his rosary: “Keep this, or better still wear it around your neck.”
Spiritual Human 
And so the moon is reflected in the river. The river flows yet the reflection remains. The self-remembered is just like that—we travel along, drawn to some unseen ocean. All the while, the face of the Beloved remains on the river of the soul. And so when we remember the self, it is with a capital “S”. For we are made in the image of the Beloved. And we get to adventure through the valleys of forgetting until we reach the shores of remembrance, where all souls spill into His—and where–miracle of miracles—we do not lose ourselves in that Ocean–we find ourselves. To be His Child means we are free, and just as the river branches, we spread out into the world—flowing through forests and cities, jungles and villages—revealing His face as reflected through us, to everyone we meet.
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