Leaving the Table: A Master’s Farewell

I don’t need a pardon, no, no, no, no, no
There’s no one left to blame
I’m leaving the table
I’m out of the game

“I’m Out of the Game”

I remember the moment I realized I was done. Not in a dramatic, storm-out-the-door way, but in the quiet, knowing way that fills every corner of your being with peace. I didn’t need to fight anymore, didn’t need to prove anything, didn’t need to win or lose. I was simply done. Leonard Cohen’s “Leaving the Table” puts words to that feeling, that moment of clarity when you step back from the game and know you’ll never sit at that table again.

For years—maybe lifetimes—I’ve played the game. I’ve sought love, validation, meaning, and resolution outside myself, believing that the answers were out there somewhere, in someone, or something. But they weren’t. And at some point, the seeking itself became exhausting. It’s not that I gave up—it’s that I realized I didn’t need to keep playing. The treasure I had been chasing was already within me.

Being Done With the Game

Cohen’s line, “I’m leaving the table, I’m out of the game,” is so simple, yet it carries the weight of a soul’s journey. I think about the tables I’ve sat at: tables of relationships, seeking approval; tables of karma, playing out cycles of guilt and redemption; tables of striving, always trying to become something more. And then one day, I pushed my chair back and stood up.

It wasn’t a sudden decision. It came little by little, as Cohen says, as I began cutting the cords of attachment. Relationships that were based on need or imbalance quietly faded. Old stories about who I was or what I had to do lost their grip. And what remained was something I had forgotten: the sweetness of simply being.

Letting Go of the Wretched Beast

Cohen sings, “The wretched beast is tame,” and it reminds me of my Dragon. The Dragon, in all its fiery intensity, demanded that I face the illusions I had clung to. It brought me to my knees at times, showing me the places where I wasn’t being honest with myself, where I was still playing the game. But eventually, the Dragon’s became my friend. I didn’t need to fight it anymore because I had allowed its gift—the revelation of my own truth.

Now, the wretched beast is tame. It’s no longer a force of destruction but a quiet companion. There’s nothing left to fight because I’ve stopped fighting myself.

The End of Seeking

One of the most profound shifts for me was realizing that I don’t need a reason for what I’ve become. Cohen’s line, “I don’t need a reason for what I became,” feels like an anthem for this part of my journey. How many times have I tried to explain myself—to others, to myself, to some imagined divine accountant keeping score? But the Master doesn’t need a reason. The journey itself is reason enough. The experiences, the joys, the challenges—they were all part of it, and none of them need justification.

I think about the cycles of incarnation—the endless wheel of coming and going, seeking and resolving. For so long, it felt like there was something I needed to fix, something I needed to learn. But now I know that the game has served its purpose. There’s nothing left to resolve, no more lessons to master. I’ve stepped off the wheel, not in rejection, but in gratitude. The sweetness has been restored—not because the world has changed, but because I have.

Leaving the Table of Incarnation

When Cohen sings, “There’s nobody missing, there is no reward,” it feels like a liberation. So much of my life has been spent seeking—seeking connection, seeking understanding, seeking fulfillment. But now I see that nothing was ever missing. The reward I was searching for was already here, within me.

To leave the table doesn’t mean to abandon life. It means to live more fully, more freely, without being caught in the old games of striving and proving. It means to love without need, to serve without condition, to be without apology. It means to stand in the wholeness of who you are and let the world adjust itself around you.

For me, this isn’t just about stepping out of the cycles of incarnation—it’s about stepping into the fullness of life. It’s about being here, now, as a sovereign being, knowing that I don’t need to play the game to prove my worth. I am, and that is enough.

The Sweetness Restored

Cohen’s final words, “The sweetness restored,” feel like a gift—a reminder that when we let go of the struggle, the sweetness of life naturally returns. For me, it’s the sweetness of waking up in the morning and feeling at peace. It’s the sweetness of a quiet moment, a deep breath, a connection that doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Leaving the table isn’t an act of loss—it’s an act of freedom. And in that freedom, the sweetness is always waiting.

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You may enjoy Leonard Cohen’s Leaving the Table here.

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Leaving the Table Lyrics

I’m leaving the table
I’m out of the game
I don’t know the people
In your picture frame
If I ever loved you or no, no
It’s a crying shame if I ever loved you
If I knew your name

You don’t need a lawyer
I’m not making a claim
You don’t need to surrender
I’m not taking aim
I don’t need a lover, no, no
The wretched beast is tame
I don’t need a lover
So blow out the flame

There’s nobody missing
There is no reward
Little by little
We’re cutting the cord
We’re spending the treasure, oh, no, no
That love cannot afford
I know you can feel it
The sweetness restored

I don’t need a reason
For what I became
I’ve got these excuses
They’re tired and lame
I don’t need a pardon, no, no, no, no, no
There’s no one left to blame
I’m leaving the table
I’m out of the game

I’m leaving the table
I’m out of the game

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