Go to your sacred place. Take as much time as you need, then come and sit by the fire.
Your consciousness robbed you of innocence but gave you self-knowledge and a capacity, not yet fully understood or realized, for freedom. A treasure but a burden in a bargain you did not make–one forced upon you by the march of time and the mutation of genes, leaving you in precisely the existential situation you find yourself. The human condition.
Do you dare live up to the high calling of our existence, which encompasses but exceeds survival, a difficult but ennobling path pointed to, for millennia, by philosophers and mystics from every corner of the earth?
Perhaps you have already committed to this path.
Perhaps you are still deliberating.
Perhaps you desire the path but still feel dragged along by chains through the darkness, their shackles digging into your wrists, cutting off your circulation.
Wherever you are on this path, lean closer to the fire now, so that I may tell you something beautiful.
Something true and beautiful that the fire will illuminate.
The fire is master of fate.
How can that be, you ask, when the vicissitudes of your existence–your successes, your failures–your survival--are contingent upon so many things? The genetic lottery. Your place of birth. Who holds the power and the spirit of the age. Stock market plunges and solar flares. The bully in your class, the controlling boss, the drunks on the roads, the gangs on the streets. The addictions, neuroses, and fears of others. The addictions, neuroses and fears of our own.
It can seem that we are all just victims of forces beyond our control–battered about like leaves on the wind, brittle, torn, spinning ever downward–but, that is only how it appears when you have not drawn near the sacred fire. For illuminated, these same workings of fate–the mass conglomerate of all the contingencies of your existence–become the path of your fruition, the material with which is crafted a great masterpiece of being.
This is the crown jewel of your consciousness.
This, the true weight of your glory.
Stay here as long as you can; come back as often as you want.