Come here little mouse,
Sit while I tell you a story.
Many centuries ago, when man first started walking the Earth,
he had thought himself free, and lived in harmony with nature and the world around him.
But one day, something quite unusual happened, and this harmony was broken like a dry old stick being snapped in half.
The man received an epiphany, a bolt of information that shot into his mind.
He realized this while sitting at a campfire on a dark, starry night with all of the cosmos laid out before him.
The man realized there was a part of him that was missing. No, it wasn’t the woman he had paired up with and made children by that was causing him this feeling, but a type of… sorrow, infiltrated the cavity of his chest as he contemplated the heavens with a full belly and bare feet being warmed by the fire.
That sorrow, that sadness was a new sensation to him. He could not find the words needed to describe why he would feel this way while looking up at the sky.
And that epiphany began to place itself into perspective for him to be able to understand and grasp those strange feelings, churning in his heart.
He was removed from where he truly belonged. As the majesty of the heavens pressed down upon him, he desired to meet them, to abandon his body, to soar among all that he could see above.
But he could not. The weight of his flesh kept him firmly lodged in the dirt he was sitting and the occasional fly would buzz around in front of his face, taunting his inability to leave the ground.
So this man from that moment forth, developed a longing that he did not know how to fulfill.
He examined his purpose and found existence rather monotonous. Each day he would go out to look for food, each night he would return to the fire, watching for predators while his family slept a short distance behind him.
It was not enough for him to live to survive, and so the man over time became quite sad. It was a curious paradox as this time of the evening with the glory of the lights above him, he deeply enjoyed roaming his eyes over the skies, ears attentive to his surroundings, hearing only the mild swishing of the wind.
Each day and each night only further deepened his longing. His desire was such that he would imagine his feet leaving the ground and taking himself up to the air, soaring through the leaves of the trees, touching them with the tips of his fingers.
And shortly after, a second epiphany arrived.
It came in the form of a flock of white birds that descended across from him on the branches. Faintly illuminated by the flames of the fire.
It was then the communication started.
As he looked at the birds, he could sense… a connection of some type. A closing of space between or an opening — he could not find the right words and did not need them, for he began to send pictures to the birds. Mental images of his longings and desires.
And one of the birds responded.
It left the flock and swooped over and around the man at the fire, as if teasing but also as if it were teaching him how to fly.
The man sat still, following the flap of wings and almost laughed at the suggestion that he could learn to fly from a bird.
But he could feel something passing between and he narrowed his eyes in response.
It did not come to him in words, but in feeling.
“Do not be jealous. For we are somewhat jealous of you.”
The man understood the message and nodded. His sadness, unabated but the acknowledgement of his suffering appreciated.
The bird continued to circle and settled to land on a small log a short distance away. Regarding him with it’s yellow eyes. Digging with it’s beak into a plump body of feathers.
The man returned to gaze at the sky. Feeling the imprisonment of his weight and sorrows.
And then, he understood what the bird had meant.
For the man had now taken notice of having used the power of his imagination. In his mind, he could soar in the sky, he could swim with the fish, he could inhabit the inside of a tree and sway along with the breeze of the wind.
This, was what the bird was jealous about. Imagination.
Man had imagination. Animals did not.
The bird had then left, along with the others, flying away into the distance leaving him alone once more.
But now, the man was no longer alone or in despair.
He now soared among the stars, touching them, drinking of their luminescence. He looked below at the tiny speck of the campfire and smiled.
Restrained no more, he thought.
This, my child, is the story of when the first man realized his power. His capacity to envision and create the reality he most wanted to inhabit. Not only was he successful, but in time, greater powers were afforded onto him.
“Like what, papa?”
I smiled. “Powers greater than the Gods had themselves. For this man had created them also. He had realized his power to create. This not only was why the birds were jealous, but why the Gods became jealous as well. They soon began to conspire against him.”
“Why, papa? Were they angry?”
I thought for a moment, taking a puff from a vape as my daughter laid against me, watching the night sky next to the fire we had built.
“Yes dear, they were. Not immediately, but over time their jealously turned to anger and so they came up with clever ideas. They decided to make man think himself inferior to them, to make him forget how strong he was. To reduce him back to the way he was. Unthinking and without any imagination at all.”
“How could they do that?”
I took a deep breath, unsure of how to impart the words but allowing myself to surrender to whatever would come.
“They used religion to deceive him. When man created the first God, he had imbued it with a portion of his spirit, his thoughts, and as he told other men of this higher-being, they began to put their thoughts and attention onto his creation. Making it grow more powerful until one day, it was able to speak through the mouths of men in a unified voice. It then demanded more of their attention, more of their power and instructed a set of requirements for them to follow. Much of it was good, but the real lie was what was hidden between the truths. That these Gods were created in the image of man and not the other way around. This is how the Gods were able to deceive mankind. Through the use of religion which ensured that all men would abide and so give these deities power. Power that they did not possess on their own. Do you understand?”
“I think so. But are all Gods bad? Is God bad?”
“No sweetheart, not all of them are bad. Many have become corrupted, but there are some Gods that are good and true. Remember, Gods cannot create, only the Creator can create.”
“Who is the Creator?”
I brushed my fingers down her long blond hair and held a palm against my chest.
“The Creator is inside here. Inside of you. Inside of all of us who have souls. We are the Creator. We are all the parts of Creation and this part of us can never be destroyed or forgotten about. We must only remember who we truly are.”
My daughter laid still, her wide eyes looking up at the sky. Lost in thought.
I continued.
“Remember dear, we are only here but for a short while. Someday we will be like the man from long ago and will soar to the heavens just as he imagined. Creating our own worlds and realities once we have understood the Truths that this one offers. This is why we are here. To learn and remember where we came from and who that we are.”
“Where did we come from papa?”
I pointed at the three stars in the belt of Orion.
“From there, dearest. From there.”
I paused.
“From the wellsprings of eternity herself.”
It was then as I observed my daughter’s contentment at the pieces of the puzzle I had handed her, that I thought to my own origins of the soul that was inside of me. That longing, that sadness, I too had felt before I had children of my own to pass such stories onto. It took a great deal of heartbreak and searching for me to come about to such conclusions but the look on Elena’s face was worth all the time I had spent in contemplation often born of despair and confusion. For I no longer was confused or in despair. I no longer feared death.
What I did not tell her however, was a deliberate omission on my part. I did not tell her of the true Creator. The being that created our soul. There are mysteries to be left unanswered for to rob one of the delight of solving them on their own, would be not have been an act of love or compassion. I know that now. It took me so long to know this.
I puffed on my vape, looking at the sky.
And we watched a flock of birds land in the tree across from us.
Just like before.
Just like it will be again.
Until the end of time.
