I want to live as if the world is, again, just beginning.
I have been told that there existed a time, when the world was just being born, that the physical and spiritual realms were not distinct — gods — ancestors walked the featureless earth, as giants, and formed that which we now see — the mountain ranges, the valleys, the rivers, the lakes, the plant and animal life that proliferate the land. And they did so in the most natural of ways — by sitting down, by fighting, by making love, by giving birth, by dying.
The stories go that certain sites on this earth, specific flora, particular fauna, hold feelings which we remain unable to describe in our paltry language — these feelings are too subtle for that, but they resonate through our bodies and will continue to do so until the twilight of known time.
It is also said that we have known one another, before, in The Dreaming. That is why we can, sometimes, find each other — across continents, over oceans, across a world crumbling and dying. It is our spirits that recognize the other, even when our eyes do not. This notion has often made me balk; it did not fix with my limited view of spirituality from my former life. But now, now that the world is falling apart and, perhaps, being reborn, it makes more sense. It all makes so much more sense. The fact that I had never invested in anything before — that nothing could hold my interest any longer than a fleeting moment. You are something that can keep my interest, this life is something that can fully grasp my mind and body. Something inside of me has been holding out for this life. I somehow knew — somewhere in the very back of my brain — that there was an existence outside that which I had led before, something more fulfilling, deeper, and more instructive.
You told me that you knew that I held out in fear of romanticizing you. I did not want to make you something much more simple than what you are, but I knew I loved you long before I could fully sustain the thought. I resisted — I want to love you as your own entity and not what you represent or don’t represent. My life before had fallen apart, and I was too happy to let it slip from my grasp.
The world is dying, but I know from what I’ve been told, some part of us will meet again in The Dreaming. We may not actively participate in the practice and rituals of our elders, but I know that we feel them as they are voiced and danced. We know them inside of ourselves as if born with them intact. I have never meant to be dense, but that is the idea, right? That we existed before we were born, and that is why certain things in the world ring so familiar? I believe it — now that we face the brink, I can believe everything. It is the gift of regret, hindsight, and hope.