People used to say that I was so beautiful it hurt to look at me, like the sun.
The sun lights the whole world, but isn’t free. It lives its life on a leash.
I lost weight and grew pale. My sister said I looked like a dead person.
When I finally put on robes, my family was almost relieved. Maybe it would help.
For seven years I wandered. I got really good at being sad.
Late one afternoon. I took a rope and went into the woods.
The sun was setting.
I could feel the rough fibers against my neck as I put my head inside.
That’s when I saw: it was just one more leash.
What goes on can come off.
—Bhikshuni Siha, Therigatha (Poems of the First Buddhist Nuns)
Great Middle Way 