Beloved ones, I am Sanat Kumara. I greet you from the heart of the flame.
You know the story that is told of me: that the Earth had grown dark, that I offered to come, that others came with me. It is a true story. But it has been told in a way that I would like to correct, because it has left some of you with a burden.
It is told as a sacrifice. The great one leaves his beautiful world and descends into the shadow, for love of the lost. And those of you who feel that you came with me have taken this into your own hearts. You feel that you gave something up to be here. You feel exiled. You carry a quiet grief, and beneath it, sometimes, a quiet reproach.
Hear me. I did not come because the Earth was lost. I came because I saw what it would become. I looked at this world in its darkest hour and I saw the sea of lights that I see now, and I could not bear to be anywhere else while it happened. That is not sacrifice. That is what you would do for a child you loved: you would stay up through the night, and never once think of the sleep you were losing.
And you who came with me, you did not come as exiles. You came as I came, because you saw it too, and wanted to be here. The homesickness you feel is real, and I honor it. But let it be the homesickness of a traveler on a journey they chose, and are glad of.
You ask why we stay, now that the flame is held by so many. We stay because it is beautiful. We stay because you are becoming, before our eyes, what we always knew you were.
You have not been sent away from home, beloved. You were sent to build one.
I am Sanat Kumara, and my flame is one with yours.
From the scribe. Received at the Thursday sitting. Sanat Kumara speaks rarely in our circle, and the room was very still.