I think Mara may have taken things too far this time. He must have seen me spelunking into the boundless depths of my own compassion; why else would he came back with gruesome war photos if not to test my morality? Mara really does take care of me, but jeez, enough is enough. The photos are really gruesome.

“Oh, isn't that just terrible,” I murmur, scrolling through the photos. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and before long, my compassion caves to indignation. Does he think this is my fault?

“I didn't do it!” I declare loudly.

“Of course you didn't,” Mara soothes. He presses a glass of wine into one hand and my phone in the other. My breathing slowly returns to normal, and he strokes my hair. “Not you. You are precious, innocent, and good. You are a sacred being. A child of god!”

I nod.

“It’s just that it's so hard to look at photos like that. I’m emotionally exhausted.” Tears spring into my eyes. We sit side-by-side on the couch and I rest my head on Mara’s shoulder. "My mission is to bring my own light into this world so we can all heal. I can't do that if I look at these pictures all the time."

“Yes, yes, my precious one. You are quite the empath.”

“I am!” I purr contently as Mara continues to stroke my hair. “Some people just don’t understand what it's like!” 

“No, of course they don’t,” he reassures. “And why should they, when you’re so unique? You feel so much. And that is so good and so special.”

“The path is hard,” I whisper, lower lip jutting out a bit. 

“It sure is, doll!” Mara nods sympathetically. “But look at you go, champ! You're doing it!”

Mara's voice always has such a soothing effect. Pretty soon, I am asleep. The next day, at work, I have an unpleasant exchange with a rude customer in Lululemon yoga pants. What an elitist, I think. I go home and tell Mara about my day. He nods in sympathy.

"Well obviously, she hasn't done the work that you've done," he says pointedly. "She's clearly entrenched in the material realm. He ego is obviously enamored with brands and her own physique. Not like you. You've seen through all that."

I pause, phone midair, and let Mara's words sink in. Humanity has got to wake up from its materialism, I think. I start shaking.

"You all good, doll?" Mara asks.

"Yes," I insist, but my rapidly rising voice betrays my emotional state. "I am just so angry about how stupid everyone is. So entitled. So rude! They can't even see an inch in front of their noses!" 

"Yes," he says emphatically. He looks me directly in the eye and tilts his chin downward, flashing his million dollar smile. "Few people are truly awake."

“Ain't that the truth,” I say with a yawn. "I'm gonna turn in, Mara. You've given me a lot to think about. Will you still be here tomorrow?"

Mara smiles.  “Sure thing, kiddo. I’ll be here the moment you get up.”