Wanderings of the Sunblessed

The holy scripture of the religion of Words of the Sunblessed. Passed down through generations, this collection of allegories was originally granted to the First Prophet, Lop. Many followers of the Words read the Sunblessed's words, seeking to understand the philosophical implications of his teachings. The allegories, called "Excerpts", are spread out and unorganized due to the chaotic fall of Calaveria and the following diaspora, with some Excerpts' validity being called into question. Ibnus of the tribe of Pipstead has undertaken the task of collecting all of the Excerpts into a singular book of scripture, which he calls "Wanderings of the Sunblessed."
=== Wanderings of the Sunblessed ===
==== Excerpt : Broken Mother ====
“On a particular day, I found myself amid the deserts of Iluus, in search of Light – and more immediately, something to quench my thirst. After a full week of traversing the harsh sands, I found my respite: a small oasis, with a nameless tribe of addax hunters camped around it. After a few moments spent calming their nerves, I was welcomed by the tribe, given food and drink, and shelter by an older woman, with three children. 
I was deeply appreciative of her kindness, even more so when I realized the life she lived. She was the tribe tanner, and spent much of her time liming, scudding, and smoking addax skin. The process was odorous and exhaustive, compounded by her care of three children while she worked. Understandably, she often grew upset with the children, and had developed a short temper, which the children had learned to avoid, though this tended to result in them causing problems elsewhere. 
One evening, as I brought her jug of water I had refilled to her tent – a custom of appreciation among the tribe – I noticed she was weeping silently. I was troubled by this; she had always seemed a rock, firm and in control. So, I knelt with her and asked what was causing her to weep.
“I am such a terrible mother,” she cries. “I cannot get these children to behave in a respectful manner. I show them how to act and how to respect others, and I am firm with them. But they continue to make a mess around my home and around the tribe, and often harass the smaller children. I am a failure.”
I offer token condolences, and begin to wonder how best to help her. I sit with her and listen to her as she laments about her struggles and the rebelliousness of her children. After a time of sitting in silence, a painful yet sweet camaraderie in the air, I speak up. “What do you think makes a good mother?”
She looks at me for a few moments before answering. “I suppose, it must be someone who can teach their kids to be strong and proud. To be honorable. A good mother must be strong willed and firm, and correct their children when they stray. After all, if they are not made to be virtuous, then they shall ruin themselves.” Her voice trembles with the last few words.
I smile warmly. “Those are all important things, I think. Virtuous children will certainly find more fulfillment and love in their lives.” I pause for a few seconds, pondering on her words. “May I tell a story?”
When she nods, I lean forward, rubbing my hands together. “I once met a young fellow living on the streets of a bustling city. He was a shrewd but troubled man, barely an adult. He tried to pick-pocket me, so I bought him a loaf of bread.
“Minutes later, we sat in a field of grass as he told me his life story. He grew up in an orphanage after his parents died of a deadly flu shortly after his birth. When he aged and learned of how his parents died, and how the vassal of the land refused to offer medicine for their recovery, he grew bitter, his emotions building up inside. He loathed the well-to-do and those who lived in comfort while he could barely eat enough to stay alive. He mentioned several times how much he’d like to see the vassal of the land again, to tell him off, and put him in his place.
”I shared my empathy with the fellow, as I understood what it felt like to be discarded and rejected while others reaped rewards for doing little work. I also knew the vassal of the land quite well. So, I made a deal with the fellow. I would bring him right to the vassal’s doorstep, so long as he promised to watch the vassal with me beforehand. He was confused but determined, and accepted.
“The next evening, we found ourselves outside the manor of the vassal, hiding in the shadows of the bushes. Ignoring his protests, I led him closer to the backside of the manor, where we could see through a large, open window. He quieted and we watched inside the room. 
“The bedroom was lit by a soft, flickering candle, nearing the end of its life. A small bed sat in the corner of the room, where a figure lay in the bed. The woman was frail, even skeletal, with hollow cheeks and sunken, closed eyes. It seemed as if she were already dead, if not for the subtle rising and falling of her chest.
“Kneeling next to the bed, holding her limp hand, was a man with sharp rusty hair and a heavy coat. The vassal was crying weakly, his cheeks red and his eyes rubbed raw. He sobbed as he leaned against the bed post. The vassal was a broken man.
“The young lad was shocked by what he saw. The man he demonized for so many years as a cold, uncaring overlord was kneeling against a bed, vulnerable as he cried. ‘His mother there has been deeply sick for almost three decades. He has spent more money than either of us could imagine on remedies from around the world, but nothing has worked. ‘ I look into the fellow’s eyes, showing him warmth. ‘He’s not a terrible person, you know. He may be a bad leader, and he lets his fears and love for his mother take priority over his responsibility to his people. But he’s just human.’
“After watching for a few moments, several emotions playing through his face, he eventually sags back, drained, the anger he had been building for years and years suddenly vanishing as he saw the humanity of the broken vassal before him. ‘I suppose, I might have done the same to save my mother…’
“I smile, feeling bittersweet as tears drop down his cheeks. ‘Anger is a natural emotion. It’s there because we feel and we care. But when we truly understand someone, it is impossible to hate them, because we can see the true beauty in their souls.’ 
“We both left the manor that day without knocking on the front door. I don’t know where he went or what he became, but I like to think he began to find more beauty in the people around him.”
~
As I finished my tale, we sat in silence for several moments. The tanner eventually spoke. “What does the story mean?”
I smiled cheekily. “What does it mean to you?”
More tears began rolling down her cheeks, looking distraught. “That… I’m a bad mother because I don’t love my children. I am angry with them instead.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” I say, my smile turning wry. “But the way I look at it, we’re all a little bit the street urchin, and a little bit the vassal. I think you get angry because you fear the self-destructive life your kids might live if you don’t raise them right. The fear you hold because you love them. But do you think that maybe you let your fear drive you, instead of seeking to understand why your kids act out?”
The woman began sobbing more, a cry of regret, but also a cry of relief. She continued letting her emotions out for several more moments before quieting again.
“I suppose I’m not that bad of a mother, eh?” she says after a moment, smiling wryly back as she wipes her eyes clear. “Just oughtta give the rascals a little more credit.”
I smile, my heart warming. “I think the same.”
The next few days were some of the most beautiful days. The mother began spending more time with her kids, showing her love for them. She told them stories, made them food, and listened to their jokes. She would still get after them for making a mess of their home or picking on younger children around the tribe, but she also made sure they knew she loved them, and began listening to them. Some of the tribesmen became irritated that she wasn’t spending as much time tanning, but a few sharp words from her, and they would leave her alone briskly.
I spend much of my time thinking about her and what she taught me. Not only that people can change and love and grow, but something deeper. If we truly want to change ourselves, our families, or the world itself, no incendiary words or distant bitterness will create the dreams we seek. Only truly understanding other people will show us the path forward, and only guiding them with love will bring the power to exalt us all."