How did it feel when you first questioned why you were born?
Explain it to me, in detail...
When I first began to have these dreams about her, I couldn’t differentiate the ancestral realms from waking life. I had no grasp on time, space, or any mathematical explanation of what can be perceived as the physical in motion. In simpler terms, I couldn’t tell up from down. It all seemed too real. I would literally feel the imprint of her embrace on my body for the duration of the day, sometimes for multiple days, after dreaming of her. I would still smell her scent on me, no matter how much I tried to wash it away… I tried to wash it away. From cloths, from skin. I did. But I couldn’t. I wanted to forget her. Forget that any of it happened.
If we ever get caught, and never see each other again, promise me that you won’t forget me.
I promised. But I didn’t even have to, because it seems that not one force in this world will allow me to erase our memories. And somehow new ones are forming, even with you gone, Solána.
Are you gone? Have I just gone mad?
I asked myself, over and over again. The Pines must find me despicable now. We still talk, the trees and I, but they grow silent when it comes to you. Since I couldn’t forget you, I tried to forget myself… But your memory just kept reminding me of exactly who I am. How pitiful. Everywhere I turned was a dead end. And I couldn’t forget anything, but I also couldn’t remember everything…
I remember choosing this life.
As a soul, I remember choosing my avatar, its families, its friends, and all of my life lessons that I needed to learn. I remember the karmic debts that I was given from past lives. I remember my destiny that I was given from the Creator / Destroyer. I remember Lady Solána Omni, before she was Lady Solána Omni. I remember loving her in the aethers and in our past lives. I remember choosing her, time after time. I remember agreeing not to choose one another, in particular lifetimes, as well as, agreeing to always choose one another, in other ones. But I don’t remember which we decided to do in this lifetime, that I chose, as Lord Rasquiat Almighty.
I’ve been wondering if she recalls…
My mother and father remembered. They told me that bringing me into this world was the most important thing that they knew they could do in this lifetime. It was a mutual priority of theirs, which strengthened their bond. And that same bond has been slowly severed by the same reasoning. Like water.
Treasure is uncovered by the force of flowing water, and it is buried by the same currents. (Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist, p. 27)
I wasn’t enough. I was everything to them, but what was everything wasn’t even enough. So, I guess it doesn’t quite matter whether you remember your agreements, or blueprint, in the heavens. When you reach the world you’re sent to, it can be rendered de facto null and void. You shift your fate with each second you breathe here. And what gives, also takes away. Nothing is stable. Everything is impermanent.
And still. It’s as if these Pines are endless for me. As if I’ll be hearing her undulate in the waters of my heart forever.
Where I’m from, in the Tides, everything spiritually lives on, infinitely. Yeah, I know, I just said, “Everything is impermanent.” Both exist, both are true, and not mutually exclusive. Everything dies physically, then lives on spiritually, possibly being reborn physically, repeating the dying / undying experience, in order to ultimately just live on spiritually. Mere transitions. Death is everything. Life is everything. Same thing. Everything is everything.
If we leave the candle burning for an hour, will the flame remain the same or become another flame? The wick, the wax and the oxygen are always changing. The part of the wick and the wax that is burning is always transforming. If these things transform, the flame must change too. So the flame is not the same, but it also is not different. (Thich Nhat Hanh, no death, no fear, p. 28)
When I was a child, before my second awakening, I watched an angelic soul slowly form from the ground up, as a being of bright blue-white light. It was also a child. They wanted to show me something, but I was too afraid of our differences to talk with them. I literally stuttered and ran away from them.
I used to ignore all of the darker, more ancient souls that would come to me too. They would stare at me, unmoved, and unbothered by my chosen ignorance, so I would keep making believe that they weren’t there, until they would eventually go away. They always came back the next day. It didn’t take me long to figure out that these certain dark souls were connected to a separate space and time. They were otherworldly, not from the Tides. They only had a hub in the Tides. I never understood what timeline or part of the realms they were from, I just knew where the Tidal hub was. I avoided that home base of theirs as best as I could, but unbeknownst to my mom, the hub was connected to her room. There was one night that I couldn’t avoid it at all, even though I wanted to, with everything in my body…
Mind you, this is not what my elders taught me to do. It’s not how they trained me to move in protocol to the tradition, nor in protocol to my destiny. This spiritually avoidant behaviour was of my own doing (or rather undoing), because I felt safer moving in fear and rebellious curiosity, than using the tools I was so generously given. And in retrospect, they trained me so brilliantly that I was almost too brilliant. They coddled me because of that. Too smart and spoiled for my own good. I was incredibly confident in my abilities and that blessing became a curse.
“And what gives, also takes away.”
I know everything
I know everything, know myself
I know morality, spirituality, good and bad health
I know fatality might haunt you
I know everything
I know how people work
I know the price of life, I'm knowin' how much it’s worth
I know what I know, and I know it well not to ever forget
Until I realised I didn’t know shit, the day I came home
(Kendrick Lamar, To Pimp a Butterfly, Momma)
I told my mom everything and still tell my mom everything [to a certain extent]. I have a closer bond with her, than I do with my father. My parents separated shortly after I was born, and as I told you before, my mom’s family was more affluent and honoured, so it only made sense to the societal norm that I live with my mother, primarily. So I did. Before my second awakening, I very rarely visited my father, on The Ghetto’s side of the Tide, and he very rarely came to The Almighty side.
Now, Lady Solána’s world and my world were separate, but our people weren’t sworn enemies, right? We were just different and they wanted to peacefully keep it that way. That’s it. But my mom’s family and my dad’s family? A vibrant history of explosive misunderstandings and emotional bloodshed.
My parents, with the blessings of their ancestors, gave their families an opportunity to nurture those grievances and restore fulfilment, as most felt that they were robbed of a secure and prosperous lifestyle due to the never-ending pressures of the feud. They weren’t the very first couple to do it and they won’t be the last, but during their ceremonial union, it was the first time in decades, that the energetic waters of the two families looked like they were mixed, with no fatalities. My mother’s family carries the energy of brackish waters, and my father’s is that of freshwaters. I’m sure the Gods of the Tides rose high, beaming with celebration of a successful mix during the wedding. I know our families did and things were better between them after the ceremony. It got a little rocky during the separation, but my parent’s handled it well. The fact that they didn’t, and still won’t, get a divorce, makes it clear that the Union was about more than just the two of them. It shifted, and still shifts, many things in the favour of my families, in powerfully prosperous ways that nobody can deny and not be thankful for.
Of course, there’s still a select few of the family members who refuse to progress together and think that healing their wounds will signify their own defeat. “Peace” is waving a white flag, while dying on your knees. There is no honour in that to them. They wear their scars like trophies and medals, giving them purpose and pride. The more the merrier, they say. I’ll fight this war to the end, dying on my feet. And the fact that the bulk of their family has healed, forgave, been forgiven, and grown beyond the rivalry, only serves as gasoline to their flames. Like a civil rights activist getting spat on by a patrol officer. Fired up to be respected. Eventually, these family members will be swinging at the wind, left alone, fighting themselves. They’re only fighting their own demons. They’re simply fighting to fight. It seems like there’s nothing and no-one that they love more, than the war. Whether actual or a mirage, it’ll always be real to them. The only thing real. It’s all they know. Because who are they without it? What’s the point of life? I must resist. Resistance is my nature.
My father comes from a long lineage of soldiers and warriors.
My mother comes from a long lineage of healers and priesthood.
Her supernatural ability completely softens the hearts of those calloused from betrayal and hardened to forgiveness so that they can begin healing. She makes people weep their eyes out and spill everything that’s been on their heart for eons. She sees right through façades and has a tongue sharper than the wisest mind, but only cuts to cure or mend, not to maim or kill.
My father has the same gift of a sharp tongue, yet he battles with it. Not against others, but with himself. He’s among a rare few, being that his ability is an innie, rather than an outty. That means that his work is inward, not to be of physical service for others by some sort of grand outward act, but to help align the subtle worlds in balance with his own self-mastery. He wields some rather wild, combustible firepower too, as it pertains to his heart. His life’s work is to become Roshi of his gifts, so that he (1) doesn’t self-destruct, taking along with him everyone else within a 50-mile radius, and (2) can eventually guide others in reaching similar enlightenment.
Although they’re no longer together, they seem like quite an interesting pair. I would’ve loved to have seen them lovingly coexist on a daily basis.
In one of the plethora of dreams I’ve had of her since she’s left, Lady Solána had asked me, “How did it feel when you first questioned why you were born?” She seemed older than me in this dream, but I was my waking-life age. I’m 33 now. She seemed about 43. Her eyes did that thing where I could see time and everything that ever existed between the lids that were holding them. I allowed myself to be captivated by them, holding hands with the interstellar journeys of her iris, as a peaceful smile washed over my face. She saw me looking deeply into her, without verbally answering her question, and she let out a silly scream, before saying, “No!”, playfully hitting my arm. We laughed. I felt warmth, and a beautiful sensation, cycling in an oblong oval shape along my chest, solar plexus, and sacral. Connecting all three. A channel of love and happiness.
Eventually, I answered her question.
I felt imprisoned.
“Mm, explain it to me, in detail…”
Like, why do I have to keep coming back here? I know I have karmic debts that I incurred from past lives that I have to pay, for my soul’s freedom. I still have “this number” through “that number” of life lessons to experience and learn, before I can pass their accompanying tests, and graduate onward. I understand all of that. I know the exact reason why I was born into this lifetime. But we talked about this already, how we’re really just tired of lifetimes altogether. I feel like I’m so tired that I ultimately questioned why I was born as a soul. Not why I was born as a human. But why I even exist as a soul to begin with, you know? As a part of the Universe. A part of God. Why did I choose to be a soul? Did I even choose to? Who, or what, was I before I was a soul? Was I simply and bare, just the Divine itself? Did the Divine get bored and decide to create infinite worlds with countless versions of itself and endless experiences? And after it did that, it was like, “Oh, this is meaningless, lemme delete” but everything had developed its own autonomy and caught itself up in this loop of self-importance? And my questioning of all of this is just me being tapped into what the Divine actually thinks? “Oh, this is meaningless, lemme delete”
“Well… Lord Rasquiat Almighty, and that beautiful brain of yours. What you described sounds like it’s above our clearance. But sometimes what’s hidden and unknown is hidden and unknown for a reason, right? A reason that protects us from what we don’t need to know, or protects us from ourselves even, because we tend to abuse the knowledge that we do have and misuse it in the wrong circumstances. Sometimes your eyes need to be closed for you to see.”
It happens at a certain point in dreams. Something is said or done that makes you realise, ‘Oh wait, I’m dreaming’. That last sentence did it for me. I couldn’t help but wake up, and when I did, it felt as if I had already been awake. The dream felt that real. Like I actually just pulled away from her and left her there, by herself, after she shared that important piece of wisdom.
Please, forgive me, Lady Solána.
I’ve learned to keep a dream journal by my bedside. I record each and every dream of you. I interpret them. I meditate on them. I interpret them again days, weeks, and months afterwards. And there’s this knowing that’s been growing in me that gives me solace when I think I’m going crazy. A knowing that you’re still here. Somewhere. I just have to wrap your hand in mine, in the right way, at the right time, and pull you back through. Bring you home again.
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