Quan Yin
She who hears the cries of the world and takes whatever form necessary to bring compassion
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See AllThe Guest house This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all
May Sartan’s Poem: The myth as medusa: I saw you once, Medusa; we were alone. I looked you straight in the cold eye, cold. I was not punished, was not turned to stone– How to believe the legends I am
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