"'Jiva, my daughter,' you cry in the woods. Come to your senses, Ubbiri. 84,000 all named Jiva have been burned in that charnel ground. For which of them do you grieve?" Pulling out — completely out — the arrow so hard to see, embedded in my heart, he expelled from me — overcome with grief — the grief over my daughter. Today — with arrow removed, without hunger, entirely Unbound — to the Buddha, Dhamma, & Sangha I go, for refuge to the Sage.