Come, my friend.

Sit by me a while, beneath this great, ancient banyan tree.

Its roots are older than any temple. Its branches carry the echoes of a thousand lifetimes. If you listen closely, and you find the deepest stillness, you might hear them whispering your own name.

I’ve waited here for you. This is a place beyond time. A resting place for souls both well-traveled and young. The stories I’ll tell you are not just mine. They are yours too, in ways you may not yet remember.

You see, I’ve lived many lives. I’ve been small, and silent, and scared. I’ve also been vast, luminous, and free. I’ve known hunger that carved me hollow, and love that remade me entirely. And through it all, I was becoming—layer by layer, spark by spark—the being who now speaks to you.

These stories are the thread of that becoming. Each chapter, a different form. A different lesson. A different voice. Sometimes, I will speak from within the incarnation—raw and unknowing. Other times, I’ll speak from here, beneath this tree, with the clarity of hindsight and the tenderness of a soul who has walked the whole spiral.

You may forget, from time to time, that you are listening to your own story. Savor this graceful amnesia. The soul has its own subtle ways of recognizing itself, even in the pages of someone else’s book.

So, take a breath.

Let the branches shelter you. Let the roots steady you.

And let us begin.

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