Remember

Remember

Playfully pulsating in the lilac mist, two beings spun, entangled in light. Their individual consciousnesses intertwined as they had been for a span of time neither knew, floating in some far corner of the universe. All was love and laughter while their thoughts flowed between each other in peaceful contemplation.

A tiny particle entered the mist and swirled with them, paused, and sparked brilliant blue with a tinge of green and became a question.

One being spoke to the other.

“Want to go to Earth?”

“Nope. That place sucks.”

“In many ways, yes, but the water planet is spectacular in others. The creatures are so diverse! Water rises from the vast salty seas and returns fresh in the falling. Elements of wind, dust. water and reflected fire create epic beauty in the sky.”

“No.”

“The mycelium and their communication powers, the florals full of vibrant color and enchanting scents, the crawlers and sliders with their massive numbers, the winged ones with their melodic songs, the immense, wise ones who travel the depths and speak the ancient tongue, the four legged with their grace and strength…”

“I know, I remember. But it is dominated now by the two-legged and they are ripping her to shreds. She is on her way out. The pain has grown too great…”

“That is why we should go.”

“Not now. I’m sorry, but my heart is too weak.”

“You are strong enough.”

“No, I am not. Please stay.”

“I am going back. I love you.”

Trepidation entered and divided them. Their singular light separated into two. Sorrow dimmed one light while purpose flamed the other and then vanished. All was quiet.

The dark warmth of the womb had been a soothing grotto for nine moons. A time of preparation and planning. The main directive…to remember.

I chose this. I agreed to this. I am ready. We will find each other again.

The mother wailed in pain. Intense pressure pummeled every molecule within the new form. Through the cavern seemingly too large to pass through, newfound senses exploded. The lifeline is still attached. Searing, false light replaced the dark of the womb. An explosion of sound, previously muffled by flesh, liquid, and the mother’s lulling heartbeat, sent shockwaves through the body.

,

Breathe first. Oxygen entering the lungs. Breathe deep. Feel the limbs stretching. See. Listen.

A sharp blade severed the connecting cord.

Pain. I felt that. Cold. Unfamiliar hands dig into my mouth, then wrap me in woven cotton, placing me in the mother’s arms. I like it. Her humming soothes me. She brings me to her chest. I recognize love. It is familiar. My sight is shadowed, but I see her green eyes. They said language to communicate takes several rotations around the sun. I’ll try now. I’ve got lots to say. I chose this. Try. Don’t forget!

No understandable words came out of the newborn’s mouth, just a moan, which grew into to a soul piercing high pitched cry. The mother brought her closer to her breasts.

A craving. Hunger? Yes, I need sustenance.

The new mother cupped her newborn’s head with her right hand, and she squeezed her left breast with her left hand. Gently, she positioned her baby’s mouth over the nipple.

I can smell the nourishment within. Eating is the way to keep this body running. Use your instincts..

I want this milk, but I can’t latch on. Try harder, don’t be sloppy. Focus. You got this. Fuel is needed to survive.

The young mother stared in awe at her suckling child. The pain was eclipsed by tears of joy flowing sweetly down her cheeks. She whispered, “Welcome, my daughter.”

She was now. She. Yet to be named here, but ready and excited for the opportunity to be in the moment. She was welcomed. She could handle another way of doing things. So. Vastly. Different.

The cumbersome weight of it was a bit more than she had imagined it would be. The mass of elements, mostly composed of water, charged electrically, felt so heavy. It was exhausting. She could only handle slight movements on her own. Her body needed to be flipped over or moved from place to place by someone larger than her. The legs felt useless. Very, very dependent.

You are here to remind the others of the dormant abilities within each of them. Remind them of what they are capable of. That is why you came. That is the mission.

Work on the communication. Crying, moaning. Use what you can until you grasp the language. Learn to use the body and the limited voice. Seems they respond well to nonverbal, limited communication abilities. Make ‘em feel it. Make them listen.

Just takes time. You knew it would. Don’t panic. Rest.

A lightness spread through her. She recalled the human capability of feeling really good at times. Satisfaction of the many hungers of the physical form can be exhilarating and also addictive. She was reminded of that pre-arrival. In order to bear the weight, there would sometimes be reprieves available, like singing, dancing, mating, eating, staring out through the eyes onto vistas filled with unparalleled beauty, being seen, being liked for aspects of your form, or the things you could do with it. Prepping for life on Earth is simply never the same as experiencing it.

That is what makes the transition so fucking difficult… learning to be. Some arrive in their bodies and can maintain the remembering. Often, they are considered insane, and sometimes they become objects of worship. For some, it could take the entirety of a lifetime, which is only, at max, ten decades. Doesn’t seem fair to have to fight to maintain your memory or fight to gain it back once the forgetting begins. So many humans don’t remember. The odds were continually stacked against them.

Where and when am I?

Sunshine filtered through the open window. Scents of salty, ocean air filled her nostrils when she breathed. A temperate place where death won’t come from hypothermia or heat exhaustion. Living outside is possible. Strange how humans choose to dwell in so many environments that will kill them if not for the structures they build, equipped with heating and cooling systems. They expend their energy devising ways to capture or create other kinds of energy. Even their modes of transportation are temperature-controlled.

Her new home was on the western shore of the North American continent in a place called Los Angeles. A solid foundational setting where she could safely explore, in this body, and eventually learn to speak and then tell the others of the truth. Rotations of the planet marked time into days. Each day brought newness made up of stroller rides, trees, animal encounters, phenomenal snuggles, fresh air, beach sand, and bubbly cleansing water.

Seeing things and beings that weren’t visible to the eyes of others kept her company. Her parents called it imagination, but she knew otherwise. Playing, laughter, family, friends, fighting, and reconciliation were all part of the process of figuring it out creatively. Constantly learning new skills needed to survive on Earth was both challenging and awesome.

Dandelions are the coolest. When you blow on them seeds scatter through the air, touched by light and fall upon the ground - water and sun feed the seeds, and a nutritious food sprouts up from the soil. She sat contemplating this magical process, then bit into the green leaves. Bitter. Mother’s hand grabbed her arm tightly, forcing her to drop the flower, the perfection. A finger thrust into her mouth ruined the moment. She did that crying thing again. Still no vocabulary able to formulate on her tongue. Bummer.

Butterflies and caterpillars, stunning for sure, but easy to harm with the chubby, quasi-functioning digits on her hands. Some were maimed, some were killed. Unintentionally, of course, but it did happen, more than she wanted to admit. Gotta remember my strength. Cry some more. Sleep some more.

As she grew and waited, she became more and more focused on her environment, her emotions, and her questions. Her memory slipped more regularly. She made friends with other children who hadn’t been privy to the ease she experienced. Existence was more challenging for them, and their forgetting began to intensify.

Take note - both extremely satisfying and extremely challenging experiences quicken the forgetting.

There were just so many things she didn’t understand. Like how the human species actually put other, free species, into boxes, cages, and glass containers, poorly mimicking their environment on a minute scale. For entertainment, observation, control, or cruelty?

Why? I would never do such a thing.

Then she did it. A fish tank for her 7th birthday brought her joy, not sadness. She decorated it, cleaned it, learned to siphon, net, bag the fish, and floated them to achieve the proper temperature to lessen the shock, and keep them alive… until she cooked them. An admitted oversight during the recreation of the perceived proper home. More tears. Crying was still a behavior despite being able to use language for several years. What kind of crying is this? Grasping at a fleeting momentary blip of a thought. This is not the way.

Where’d that come from? Why does my heart actually hurt? What is wrong with me?

She had a recurring dream throughout childhood. A spiral of light that resembled the DNA ladder, that dripped like a lava lamp. So simple, so slow, so terrifying. She would awake, grasping for air, crying for the soothing arms of her mother.

It was just a nightmare. You are awake now. You are safe.

The nightmare faded when adolescence took hold. Her “make-believe” friends came around less and less. Her imagination diminished as the world around her overcame her senses.

Her father left her and her mother. Divorce. Common here on earth. The sadness of it wrecked her and created a familiar hole. A hole she would try to fill with anything she could. She came to help, not need the helping. She joined groups of others who loved the planet, fed people, protested destruction, absorbed knowledge from around the world, broke up fights, tried mind-altering drugs, tried religion, and wrote it all down in hopes of convincing others of the way it should be. People termed her work science fiction.

Her spirit was bombarded with daily reports of war, rape, drought, floods, injustice, and inequality. Determination waned under the onslaught.

Smile more, extend kindness, and listen to the palpable voice. Do not become taciturn.

Her sorrow grew alongside her motivation. She wandered the land in a motorized home searching for something missing that she could no longer name. The vehicle broke down in a small town in the Northern Woods. The cash currency that drove and divided the culture was needed for survival. Taking a job that served the rich was the quickest way to obtain it. Waitressing.

Walking into the restaurant kitchen, she saw the back of a young man cooking food over a hot grill. He turned around and asked her name. Him. Her heartbeat quickened, her breath was taken away, and she couldn’t remember her name. Mutual love.

All of their waking and sleeping time is spent together. Holding hands, they explored the woods, painted, wrote, and wondered. His mordant sense of humor was so familiar. When one of them struggled, the other comforted. Beauty becomes more visible everywhere.

Together, they co-created a new life. He watched her strength in awe as a head emerged from her body and bit the doctor’s finger. Now I am the entrance vessel. The chalice that had been the hole, filled drop by drop.

“I told you your heart was strong enough.”

“The first twenty rotations around the sun sucked.”

She smiles. They are no longer alone. Their lights expands and they are ready to assist others in the remembering.

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