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This is the story of my calling:
I've always been in love with love and beauty.
From a young age, I saw beauty all around me.
Even, and perhaps most especially, in places other people did not see beauty.
I lived in a wonderment.
Adults would describe my demeanor as innocent, naive, living in a fairy tale world.
But if we construct our own realities, why would I construct anything other than a magical reality? This was my true nature.
A nature bound tight by a conservative religion
and buried under heartbreak and the hardness of loss.
And yet, there was beauty in that as well.
From all that, I rose, determined to find myself.
It wasn't long after the birth of my child and my divorce that I heard her calling to me.
I had expected someone armed with sword and shield or a great huntress,
forsaking romantic companionship.
But it was her.
She came to me in a dream, so loving and so strong.
Golden hair cascading down her back.
Intricate tattoos winding around her arms.
Eyes bright with knowledge.
A smile that broke over her face like a glorious sunrise.
She cradled my head in her lap and stroked my hair as I cried.
We talked about serious things.
We laughed at silly things.
We enjoyed silence together.
It was all part of living and healing.
Before I woke, she gave me a blue rose and one instruction:
This goddess of love and beauty had chosen me as her priestess.
The value she saw in me was non-negotiable and I must learn to own that worth.
Love, laughter, loss,
they belong to us all.
She understands this and us.
Our challenge is to own it.
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