We stardust souls are eternal, yet needing a flesh costume to affect and interact in the physical world. So we subject ourselves to the death-rebirth trauma of being born, forgetting most of our knowledge and wisdom in the process.
Then we grow and learn what we can in a lifetime. Laughter and joy. Friendship. Hope and despair. Love and hate. Pain and anguish.
When the flesh grows weak and old, we die and remember everything from the beginning of time. Remember the reason we undertake life again and again. Only to once again choose the flesh costume. Hoping this time we’ll be able to awaken the flesh’s animal soul enough to impart some of our wisdom. Knowing that all we can hope to become, are messengers.
Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things.
Written for Poetics: Exploring the Narrative Voice at dVerse. For some reason this one was hard. Perhaps because I needed to choose my narrative voice before starting, instead of just having it happen as I go along.
This is the second time I’ve written in Gaia’s voice. The first was a Gaia’s Nightmare, a flash fiction piece.
Always felt other and wrong Never truly felt like I belong Never felt unencumbered and free Allowed to just be me Perpetual cycles of pain and abuse Always guessing which persona mask to use Living with nagging doubt, maybe I’m just insane
~Can a diagnosis everything explain~
Help me to equilibrium gain Teach me what I need to know To at functioning life have a go Give me hope of fitting in Break my minds eternal tailspin Show me how to reach good mental health Allow me to fully use my minds idea wealth
Sitting here wondering if I really dare to post this. Afraid to expose myself. Afraid to overshare. Afraid to be rejected once more. At the same time feeling like I need to share how much upheaval there is right now. And why.
I’ve had bouts of depression on and off through life. And I’ve been told to view them and every other issue as stemming from the abuse I’ve gone through. That my struggles depend on that only and if I can somehow overcome them I will be as everyone else.
Cue a new psychologist.
Who started to ask questions I’ve never got before. Who administered not just the really short screening tests (that apparently typically don’t catch female sufferers) but longer fuller tests that screen for Adhd/Add and Autism spectrum disorder. The last months have been test upon test. There are a few left but the first of the two is by now a given, the second one in some kind of high functioning way very probable.
I don’t know how to feel about either. And I don’t know if it will really help in any practical way.
Heat dissipates in waves. Sweat turns cold and clammy. I stretch muscles that are stiffening. Already aching with exercise pain. My mind echo with the song I’ve just danced the happy Jive to. Suffused with the endorphins a good workout gives, it’s calm and at peace. Outside the window the full moon rises over the treetops.
In the silver light Thoughts swirl like moths round and round Time to say goodnight
When I was in middle school we read Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes after which the class folded a thousand paper cranes (orizuru) that were shipped to Japan to be hung on the Children’s Peace Monument. As a good girl with nimble fingers I folded a whole lot of them, and I remember my wishes as I did so. That there would be peace and no nuclear weapons. But also intensely personal wishes, that I wouldn’t be bullied anymore, that my mother would acknowledge and kick her pill habit. None of the wishes, big or small came true.
I didn’t have any good folding paper, but I had to try. And wow, talk about muscle memory, I didn’t have to look at the instructions more than once before my hands knew what to do by themselves.
I also clearly remember, somewhere around the same time, finding (at the local library) and reading a comic book version of the bombs falling. I will never forget the graphic illustrations of burns and severe radiation damage. Wondering if it could still be found, I googled. And I found it in one search. And yes, I did remember the gruesomeness of the illustrations correctly.
In English it’s titled Barefoot Gen. When I found the picture of the Swedish cover (only the first book in the series got translated) my mind went; Yep, that’s the one! Apparently it’s the first Manga to be translated and released in Sweden.