(Yes, I’m totally picking and choosing my romanizations. Shush. Q is hard.)
Quan Yin is a goddess whose influence extends beyond any single country or religion. As a goddess of compassion, she is revered by many people across the world, particularly Buddhists, but also among Taoists, Shinto practitioners and pagans. She’s probably one of the most universally loved goddesses, and I think anyone who’s worked with her can see why.
I don’t have an altar for Quan Yin so much as I collect statues of her. She’s on my regular altar, she sits next to my television, in my change dish, on my writing desk, on my desk at work… I do really like a good statue. But more than that I feel like I’m still looking for the perfect one.
Perfect is actually something of a recurring theme for me with her. I go to her when I need help, when I’m a wreck, when I can’t think straight. She’s taught me compassion: for others, for those who hate me, for those who just need someone to listen, and for myself. The last is the one I struggle with most.
I’m a perfectionist, of the classic slacker type. Afraid to try because what if I fail. Afraid to succeed because it’s probably just a fluke. She reminds me that it’s okay to fuck up as long as I try and fix what I can. Because of her, I’m able to keep trying.
She’s never been anything but patient with me, waiting as I fumble around with meditation or other techniques. When my OCD gets the better of me, or when a wave of depression hits, she’s still the only one whose voice I can hear, comforting me, picking me up, shaking me off. She sets me right so others can pick up where she leaves off. Not because I’m special, no. Because she wants to do it for everyone.