Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow — even today, I am still arriving… Look deeply, every second I am arriving: to be a bud on a spring branch; to be a tiny bird with still, fragile wings, learning to sing in my new nest; to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower; to be a jewel, hiding itself in a stone. I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry, to fear and to hope. The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death of all that is alive.
I am a mayfly, metamorphosing on the surface of the river. And I am the bird that swoops down to swallow the mayfly. I am a frog, swimming happily in the clear water of the pond. And I am the grasssnake that silently feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones — my legs as thin as bamboo-sticks. And I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda. I am the twelve-year old girl, refugee on a small boat, who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate. And I am also the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving. I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands; and I am the man who has to pay his debt of blood to my people dying slowly in a forced labor camp…
My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom all over the earth. My pain is like a river of tears, so vast it fills the four oceans. Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once… So I can see that my joy and pain are one. Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up — and the door of my heart could be left open: the door of compassion.