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Purity

January 26, 2011

I can honestly say that I love children and I fear them even more. Why? Because of their purity. There is an amazing level of spiritual purity in children that reminds me of the simple truths in life that I’ve forgotten (the part I love); that same purity forces me to face myself for the corrupt, pathetic, hateful existence that I am (which I fear). My extreme impurity compared to children scares me, and causes me to loath myself, and it also causes me great suffering because I so want to change; I want to be like a child again, so as to revert to the state of purity I too once possessed. But alas I cannot, and so suffer hopelessly instead. I of impure lips, of impure mind, of impure eyes and ears. I am not worthy to shepherd such a pure generation as this. Yet still, I know I must.

All that remains then, this terrible responsibility thrust upon me, is to at least understand this new generation, and the sources of their purity. If I can understand, I can at least guide. As the maxim goes, “those who can do, and those who cannot, teach.” I cannot be pure, but at least I can teach those who are. Understanding, one of the central tenants of communication, can however only be accomplished through purity; to teach the pure then, one must be pure themselves, at least to the extent required.

What a paradox this is then, that I must teach who by my very nature I cannot! Is this the curse thrust upon us by God, to remind us of our imperfections? That we cannot both be pure and appreciate that purity, that goodness can only be accomplished through purity, and purity only through naive ignorance? Am I destined to be corrupted by my own curiosity, my knowledge my sin?

While in my corruption I am unfit to guide this pure generation, and through my sin they too will become cursed someday, still I must guide; this is the power of destiny; be it a blessing or a curse still yet remains to be seen. Perhaps it is both of these, with the ultimatum only to be decided by how I choose to view it. This destiny a reminder that I cannot change fate, but only alter the way that I look at it, or the form that it takes.

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