"And they armed me with adamant (which breaks iron) and they took off from me the garment set with gems, spangled with gold, which they had made for me because they loved me, and the robe that was yellow in hue, made for my stature."
The garment of love is removed. The robe that fit me perfectly is no longer mine to wear. Instead I am given hardness. I am being fitted for exile, for leaving (ex) the soil (ile) of my native birth. Armed with an adamantine will, I am now capable of breaking through the iron will of those I encounter, those who want to capture me and make me into an image of their own.
This blog is such a gift George; perspective that is new to me, or at least that I have chosen to not hear before. I am learning and unlearning with each segment I read. Lots of catching up to do still, but this is nourishing me on my journey. Thank you!
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