I say this to you today. Since this is all I have. The heirloom of words. The history of rituals.
Tara stands still in the yard. Worship her daily. Imbibe her readily.
Ritual #1: Karuna Kriya: Let the flowers be fragrant. Let them be fresh. Ensure they are crimson or bright such. String them with care. Sing them with love. Offer it to Tara, one at a time. Part with each, like it was part of you. For karuna is truly inside you. But not for you. Lend it to each being you touch that day. Those that were diseased, those that can be deceased. Those that are dreamy, those that are dire. For the flower of kindness cannot tell the difference.
Ritual #2: Metta Moksh: Bathe her marble skin. Cleanse your mortal one. Use rose water or mixed with milk. Sometimes the pungent pinch of turmeric too will do. You know that dust from the driveway will settle on her again tomorrow. That’s the nature of dust; much like thoughts. Wash away your thoughts, good-intentioned, well-wished, envy-wrought, mean-spirited. No thought. All love. Only love.
Ritual #3: Shunyata Shuddhi: Light a diya. Let the ghee-dipped wick burn bright as if emerging from the core of its earthen boat. Focus on the fire. Your eyes constant at its shape. Obliterate the world beyond. Even the idol of Tara. Reduce her to a symbol mere. In that heated meditation, let all presence turn absent. Let your ego, your self, your sense of the self…all turn absent, turn ashes, turn empty. For this emptiness alone will transcend the devil of death.