This is our third story

This week, our word/ theme was “insist”. If you want to hear the song we created, check out our bandcamp for this weeks song as well: https://lockedcontent.bandcamp.com/track/insist

“If You Insist”

By E.B.

I’ve been on the ground so many times before, and I can truly say it’s not for me. There’s far too much activity down there, too many chances for discomfort and disappointment.

You gotta get out of bed every day, exercise, feed your mind and body, earn money, pay for stuff, nurture and grow your relationships, create art, constantly practice and polish your skills … IT IS SO MUCH EFFING WORK!

And the heartaches, the goodbyes, the losses, and phobias that come with each round, the sore backs and knees that inevitably plague every life. Ugh, and when your socks get soaked at the start of the morning and you have to continue wearing them throughout the day. So awful. Not for me.

Here, deep in limbo, things don’t seem to move much. Here I am shapeless, time is nonexistent. Ecstasy and suffering, these are only concepts for me to meditate on. I cannot experience them.

I consider this the ultimate form of freedom — I wonder if others would agree?

The background of oblivion glows a very deep purple, with twinkling turquoise stars speckling across its expanse, spanning every angle through its many dimensions, casting perfect diaphanous light. They are balls of pale-blue nuclear fire — all little suns with, what I can only imagine, their own little solar systems of consciousnesses, all infinitely far away.

Or, maybe the stars are other shapeless beings like myself? There is no way to know either way. It seems, if there are others, that none of us can find each other.

You might say, we have the space to ourselves. I really don’t mind, however. Solitude can have its virtues. As I mentioned, I’ve been on the ground before, and I don’t care for it.

An “old soul.” That’s what they call me in every lifetime. Honestly, it’s getting tiresome, and a bit infuriating to hear the same words skipping frustratingly like a broken record. I swear I’m not old. In fact, I’m not anything. No matter where, I am just stardust — many atoms interacting between many molecules, interacting with many other molecules, and this understanding is freeing to me.

Amidst my contemplation, my meditation on freedom, I am suddenly struck back to what one may call the “present moment.” I let out a silent gasp, as a new light, brighter and different than the turquoise suns, appears on the periphery of my spacescape.

The Light begins to grow and continues at a massive pace, and soon it reaches me, threading itself, photons and waves, all around and throughout my molecules. The New Light shines in a phenomenal and blinding colour that I cannot define or fully appreciate. My own cosmic form ebbs and flows, shifting with purposeful movement. I am trying to speak to the Light, in any way I can. I manage to let out a single word: “Hello.”

“Hello,” replies the Light, its voice singing and bright, echoing throughout me. “I’m here to request you return to the ground. You’re not meant to be here for an extended amount of time. It’s better if you go back.”

“Nah.”

“I really must insist, actually.”

“Can…I…plead…my case?” Each word takes massive effort for me to enunciate.

The Light pauses, and all molecular movement between us ceases. I feel odd, suddenly lonely, aching for something I cannot fully remember.

“Down there, there are so many things to bump into,” says the Light, finally, recommencing the movement of electrons. “Many things to interact with, to learn about, to speak to, and hear from.”

“Yes,” I say.

“You wish not to return to these things?”

My own consciousness begins to oscillate again — I am thinking. I focus the vibrations of my essence, and I start to recall things: custard pies, warm summer nights spent on patios with friends, the touch of a lover, the soft coat of a puppy, the rewarding feeling of improving one’s skills and knowledge, the excitement of travelling somewhere new. Still not for me.

“I…do…prefer…the…quietude…here.” I say.

“It’s not really a matter of preference,” replies the Light. “I was given the task to take you back. It’s kind of my job, and you unfortunately don’t have much of a choice. ”

My ethereal form lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay,” I say. “If…you…insist.”

The sensation of being birthed back onto Earth is unlike anything else. It is a striking feeling: consciousness being plunged into a newly respawned flesh vessel. Every possibility that life can offer is suddenly thrust upon a tiny life form who cannot yet express themselves coherently.

I scream and cry, flailing in my mother’s viscera, gasping for my first breaths. I do not remember the moments before with the Light, or the memories of my previous lives.

I am just another baby in the world, set on the near-impossible path to reach enlightenment and escape the cycle. But maybe this will be the last time. Maybe this time I’ll get it right.