I, Neo-Rev, found myself…no…formed myself about 10 years ago. I haven’t always been Neo-Rev, but circumstances led me to my current calling.
After spending my early years in lands up north I sought my new carvanserary in Virginia. It wasn’t long before I found myself under the tutelage of the Reverend who taught me the value of telling stories. Share your story he said. You never know who it might help. The Reverend was (and is) quite prolific in his writings, but for all his sharing he also emphasized listening and responding too. He inspired his flock through his commentary and his community flourished.
Around 10 years ago, seeking greener pastures, the Reverend went south to find his riches. I was young and his leaving upended the way I understood the world. “How can you leave? I have not yet learned all you need to teach me.”
I despaired for weeks and found no solace in the stories he continued to share, now being transmitted back to me at a distance.
“If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain.”
At some point, in the midst of my sorrow, I was suddenly struck with the revelation that I was mistaken in placing my faith in the Reverend. In fact he had never even called for faith in him. He always pointed to something bigger than himself and he called for action. It was that realization that pushed me to come out of the shadows and I began to preach and practice what I preached just as the Reverend had shown me. I shared more stories and more importantly I let those around me know I was listening to theirs. I’d frequently find myself in conversation with people I did not know and over time those strangers became friends. With my new life came the need for a new name.
That is why I am here. I sense the approaching end and it is more important than ever to come together. We are stronger to together and if this is to be our demise we need to record our stories.
Our stories will not be lost to history!
Once out of nature I shall never takeMy bodily form from any natural thing,But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths makeOf hammered gold and gold enamellingTo keep a drowsy Emperor awake;Or set upon a golden bough to singTo lords and ladies of ByzantiumOf what is past, or passing, or to come.– Stanza IV of “Sailing to Byzantium” by William Butler Yeats