The mist engulfed and fully drowned my mind, Sheltered me tight from memories and sounds, Pinned drops upon my hair to shine bright, My eyes luminescent, reflecting stormy clouds.
The mist has filled my head with fuzzy thoughts, Merged into muffled piles of tangled words. What is my poetry but clash of rusty swords? Dissatisfied, I’m stuck, I feel remorse.
Drowned in longing, soft and gray despair, Sentenced to swim in humid, heavy air, Struggling with questions, looming everywhere, Well, am I worthy? How could I stop caring?
At times, I feel I’m nothing but a failure. Not fit for this material existence, Where one must be a quick decisive leader. But in imaginative, misty distance, Perhaps there is a place for such as me.
The fog engulfed and fully drowned my mind. The water drops are dancing in my hair, As if I bathed in the primeval sea of light, And plunged into its dusky depths prepared
Of finding jewels of the highest truth, Scattered in the quietest seabed, Mingled with the dark, cloudy sand. I wake up from this fantasy, I move…
The trees became the castles and old bridges, The music plays as always, storm and chaos. I wish it rained at once.
Philosophy Thursday is here. I’m experiencing a bit of a creative blockade (I write, but I’m not satisfied with the outcome), so I’ve decided to postpone the posting of my new short story until next week.
Instead, I’ve chosen to reflect a bit upon the matter of reincarnation and share my experience with it. I’m sure that most of you are familiar with the term, but for those who are not, it’s the belief that our souls could return after death in order to experience another life in a new body.
The concept of reincarnation is mainly associated with Hinduism and Buddhism, but it’s worth mentioning that it’s also very important in New Age philosophy and Neopagan belief systems. Moreover, it was at the roots of some historical pagan beliefs.
As I’ve mentioned on Laura’s blog, I have a strong connection with Odin. In fact, I’ve embraced Norse Paganism as my path, although I don’t strictly adhere to the traditional way (Neither did Odin, as he himself experimented with the female branch of magic – Seidr, for instance). I believe, understand, and live with it as I feel, though I’m familiar with both traditions and Eddas. I’m also trying to educate myself extensively when it comes to archaeological and historical evidence, so that my tree had roots which will nourish the leaves and fruits on its branches.
People who are not closely familiar with Norse traditions usually only hear about two places where you end up when you die: Valhalla and Hel (named after the goddess of the dead). However, it’s not quite so. Firstly, those who fall on the battlefield are divided between Odin (Valhalla) and Freya (Fólkvangr). Secondly, there are other gods’ halls and the entire nine worlds of Yggdrasil. There are speculations (with which I inwardly agree) that the souls of the dead may simply go to the halls of their patron deity.
There is yet another interesting detail. When I was reading Poetic Edda, it caught my eye immediately that it was literally stated in the text that in the past, people could live several lives, returning from the halls of the dead to Midgard, but they don’t do it anymore. You can learn more about it here. The author of this text, Snorri Sturluson, was a Christian monk who wanted to preserve the traditions of his people while editing and adding pieces to promote Christian beliefs. So, it is possible that Norse and Germanic people believed in reincarnation as well!
Anyway, I believe in reincarnation. Not only because it gives me a certain consolation and proposes a specific physical immortality, but also because I find this concept logical, as one life is not enough to learn all the spiritual lessons that are meant for us. Moreover, correcting your mistakes by being put into certain life experiences is more logical and progressive than being put into Hell for eternity (whichever one we have in mind).
So, in my personal opinion, after death, we travel the worlds and rest in the divine halls, coming back to Earth occasionally to learn, experience, develop, and grow, because in the end, it is about our advancement, becoming better people (better souls?), and surpassing everything that confines us from doing it.
Additionally, I myself experienced three past life regressions (hypnotherapy sessions that help to remember past lives). One was conducted by my aunt’s friend, who was a professional hypnotherapist. The other two instances I received in return for my astrological readings. All were free of charge, and I believe it was important for my present incarnation to learn something about my soul’s past experiences.
I wasn’t shown any lives where I was royal, mighty, or famous. I lived both as both men and women, though probably female incarnations happened to me more frequently. I often was a slave, a blacksmith, a musician (neither popular nor fancy), and a sailor. I often experienced the lives of monks, and nuns, and I was a priestess of goddess Diana. From these incarnations, I probably acquired my present linguistic talents, love for meditations, and books – I aimed for bookcases earlier than I learned how to walk. Seriously. I also became interested in divine and spiritual matters from a very early age. I know I wasn’t shown everything, though. I definitely had some very traumatic experiences, which were hidden from me, and it is for the good. There should be a reason anyway, why I’m insanely afraid of the films and books about WW II.
There was one incarnation that I remembered on my own when I was 5 years old. My family aren’t Buddhists or Hindus, or even New-Ageists or Neopagans. I grew up in a very liberal Christian background, by ‘liberal’ I mean my grandparents on my mother’s side. I didn’t hear about past lives back then; everyone was more preoccupied with the Apocalypses and the end of the socialist era which probably merged into one thing in their minds.
It was an evening, and I was lying on the bed in my grandparents’ house, looking at the amber sun rays falling through the windows. It was a ground floor, so I also observed a crowd of people passing by, and their long shadows, like an array of black stripes, glided against the wall. All of that was important in awakening my memory. Then I felt an enormous longing suddenly filling my heart, a strong surge of nostalgia – so strange for a little girl I was back then. And suddenly I started remembering things that I never experienced before, never saw on TV, or heard from someone.
I guess I may once share this story with you, but I started forgetting some details already, as I don’t think about this that often. It was a sad life, but I had no choice but to live it the best way I could.
Do you believe in reincarnation? Do you have any memories of your past lives or ever undergone regression hypnosis?
DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination
‘So, tell me, what brought you here?’ the flat owner inquired with a certain shade of irony, the corners of his lips almost unnoticeably risen. Emily observed her boots shyly, embarrassed by her decision to come here. She had no choice though; she had looked for this book in all the shops and libraries but found nothing. She searched the internet and found only quotes and excerpts.
Patricia, her friend, mentioned that this guy was a rare book collector, and he had literally everything here, starting from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, ending with unpublished stories by A. Blackwood or even A. Hitler, if you chose. The collector’s name was Vincent, and he didn’t believe in censorship, so it was no surprise to see Justine by de Sade lying on his desk next to Mircea Eliade’s anthology, battered from frequent reading.
‘Not bad,’ thought the girl, appraising the flat from the corner of her eye. What surprised her even more were the large bookcases carved out of mahogany wood, neighboring with an impressive wine collection. Patricia told her that Vincent also specialized in martial arts, but as of now, Emily saw no visible signs of this: no cups, no belts, no diplomas. She wondered for a moment what relationship connected her friend and this seemingly eccentric man. He was quite attractive, though.
‘Doesn’t matter, I’m here for the book,’ she finally raised her head and met his inquiring gaze. ‘To be honest, I need a book for my thesis, namely Initiation and Its Forms in Life and Magic by S. I. Capelli,’ she declared loudly, unable to modulate her voice due to nervousness. ‘Sure, I have it. Sit down for a moment, would you?’ the man waved towards the black sofa squeezed in the corner between the wall and one of the bookcases. There was a picture hanging above, portraying a crowd of young women picking grapes among ancient columns. Emily sat down with slight awkwardness, breathing in deeply the vague smell of mahogany and oil paints.
Main events: 2 of Swords + 9 of Cups + 7 of Cups (the sum=The Moon) – distancing from people and finding comfort and satisfaction in the world of fantasies (7 of Cups and the Moon). Both 2 of Swords and 9 of Cups show the tendencies of isolation, but in different ways. 2 of Swords rather demonstrates coldness towards others, but 9 of Cups shows concentration on myself and my own world. It’s not a bitter distancing though; there is a lot of happiness and joy in 9 of Cups, which may come from reach imagination or creative activity (7 of Cups). The Moon (the sum of all cards from this position) confirms both creativity and loneliness, additionally with suit of Cups emphasizing absorption by my emotional, inner world.
The general mood of the month: Knight of Wands + Ace of Cups + The Chariot (the sum=The Strength) – quite energetic and cheerful actually, with sure and active implementation (Wands, The Chariot) of my creative ideas (Ace of Cups). Additionally, this may indicate very intensive sexual chemistry, but that would contradict the general spirit of isolation (probably in the romantic relationship also) so vividly expressed in this spread.
Advice: The Fool + The Death + The Strength (the sum=The Chariot) – to start anew, leaving everything that has passed and no longer lives behind. Believe in myself, take the life in my own hands and move forward. The Strength adds intensity and self-assurance, The Chariot tells that action and initiative are important. In my opinion, the combination of all these cards also shows the need for energy cleansing.
Influence I don’t notice: The Hanged Man – the inner urge to slow down and see the things from the different angle, or maybe general stops and stagnation.
My conscious aim/hopes: 10 of Coins – stability, assurance in relationships.
Beware: 2 of Cups + Wheel of Fortune + The Lovers (the sum=The Moon) – I can see two tendencies here: once again isolation, distance in the relationships (if you look at 2 of cups you see that the personages are closer to each other, The Wheel of Fortune shows change and The Lovers are placed farther apart). Second possibility is that I should beware of sudden, impulsive (The Wheel of Fortune) choices (The Lovers), especially if they seem to be generally attractive and appealing to me (2 of Cups). The Moon intensifies tendencies of both distancing and illusion, and creates the connection with the 1st position of the spread (main events).
Positive events: 7 of Swords + The Magician + 9 of Coins (the sum=The Star) – I’m revising my older stories and posts in the blog, I hope every spelling/grammar/technical issues will be mended and this place will be comfortable and full of quality content (9 of Coins). The Star may refer to blog in general and to my poems, stories and articles.
The sum of the whole spread is The Hermit – the main tendency of this month is isolation, concentration on my inner world, knowledge, learning from experience and becoming wiser.
DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination
I woke up in the middle of the night, full of unease. I checked the time: it was 3 am. I fell back on the pillow, but my nerves were strangely strained, so I couldn’t relax. Something was off all the time: the pillow was uncomfortable, my heart was pounding loudly, I heard muffled noises and movements behind the walls and the door. The very air was filled with a menacing presence.
First, I tried to calm myself down, to promise myself to visit the psychiatrist – it didn’t matter how angry I was at Desi, maybe she was right. I must do something with my rich imagination because it was out of bounds to the extent it wasn’t safe for me… I shut my eyelids firmly with an intent to fall back asleep and tried to steady my breath and feel the heaviness of my body, though still, everything about this quiet, moonlit room was disturbing. I felt as if someone was watching me, observing carefully, hatefully, hungrily… I pulled the blanket overhead, trying to drape myself in the warm darkness, to lull my thoughts, to trick my tired brain back into sleeping. Instead, I caught myself concentrating on the leaves I left at my friend’s kitchen, my thoughts instantly full of crimson and gold. Next, I was fixed at how she drummed with her fingers on the table when I asked for her opinion. I suddenly became infuriated at Desi all over again: she never actually knew me! That girl pretended to be some kind of guru when it came to people, but she never saw their true essence. Her constant gossiping is built of classifying, labeling and judging. Why did I even go for Desi’s help if all she knew about me was her assumptions and conjectures? People called that “friendship”? Seriously?!
DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination
Three weeks had passed since the moment I had this dream. On the surface, life went on as usual: the unchanging routine, the same duties, the repeated actions at a constant pace and at an invariable time. I escaped from the mundane reality on my lonely immersive walks accompanied by music; I needed these shots of euphoria and freedom to keep myself from slipping into insanity, yet I was pretty close to it: drowning deeper and deeper in the bottomless sea of darkness, day after day, hour after hour, second after second.
First and foremost, I had these dreams full of eerie, unsettling, and absolutely obscene scenes. Seriously, I think that no one in their sane mind could dream of something that disturbing, definitely not unless they had watched a pile of sick, deviant horrors right before falling asleep. The worst thing about them was that they were very vivid, very personal, like memories.
Every night, I dreamed or perhaps even participated in deeds that went beyond the forbidden, but there was a touch of ancient mystery to that. What is more, something instinctive, dark, and almost primal filled these rituals. The fact that those things were acceptable in the wild made them innate and sacred for us.
Every night by the starlight, I dream That I’m poisoned by radiation And I’m burning in your damnation; I’m rejected, I smolder, I gleam.
You deny my mere existence, As if I were contagious with plague, And you leave me as if by mistake, For the future’s harmonious sake.
Now you fire at me from the distance, On your arrogant journey to Mars, To the planet which you all at once Will demolish in less than an instance.
By denying the history’s wisdom Yes, apparently, you never listen To whatever is tagged “complicated”… Slay each other in violent fit. So be it. So be it. So be it. And your graves will be paving the Mars.
While I am here, wretched outcast, Left all alone, but I’m myself at last. All of a sudden, in impulsive blast, I’m opening the windows swiftly, fast, To welcome colorful, inevitable death. Wait… I still live, and with my every breath,
I cast off layers of my old bleak skins, Transforming into something yet unseen. ***** I’m spreading my black wings, and in myriads of deadly flaming sparks, I fly over the forests bathed in the distant light of the moon and stars, Marveling at the reflections of fires and light on the dark, silky water surface.
DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination
And all of a sudden, the alarm went off. I was so astonished I sat up straight in an instant, looking around with incredulity: I was home! Could it all have been just a vivid nightmare then? Somehow, I seriously doubted that. I didn’t remember going to sleep; quite the opposite, I could perfectly recall every bitter detail of yesterday’s quarrel. I sneezed – exactly. I also had no doubts that I was drenched by rain while parading the night streets in shorts and unzipped. Still, I was in my bed, in pajamas, my yesterday’s clothes hanging on the chairs’ back.
In addition to all that, I got a splitting headache. The light – even this murky tender morning light which happens only right before dawn – seemed to be dazzling. I was completely disoriented. I stood up with a moan, and the whole world became blurred and shaky. Besides, my feet were still in pain. I sat down again.
The light was a problem here; I knew that it somehow affected the way I feel, so I decided to pull down the curtains and think. My eyesight was distorted; I couldn’t look directly at any object: my headache immediately returned magnified one thousand times. So I closed my eyes and started retracing yesterday’s walk, or rather my escape from home.
First and foremost – we quarreled. Two adult sisters living together is… hm, a challenging task. If only we had enough money and the place we could go we’d leave each other immediately. But as for now, we had neither choice, nor sources.
We were so different: She and I. Martha was brave and charismatic, always the center of attention. The awareness of that made Her addicted to the admiration of the crowd. My Sister spent all Her time on social media, impressing the public with retouched selfies and generated quotes, forgetting that these were fabricated lies that had little to do with her real self.
DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination
I guess it all began the moment I slammed the door loudly, causing the tiny rivers and streams of stone dust and chalk to run down onto the floor. I quickly scrutinized the tiny crevices and cracks around the doorframe – eternal remnants of my mood swings and our bitter quarrels… I ran down the steps diving into the silver moonlight that stole all the colors of this world except for black and white…
I could discern the catlike silhouettes in the silver slits of windows. All the voices from different flats were mixed and united in one preaching chorus, and all the graffities and scribbles that casually adorned the staircase during the day now were turned into magical patterns and figures. Like cavemen, we continue on and on to mark our achievements, wishes and feelings, etching them deep into the wall.
The entrance door swung open, welcoming the wet, damp wind to fill the darkness. A few rare cool drops of rain fell on my face, mingling and mixing with tears, calming me, reviving and suddenly filling everything with a sense of hope again. I went out, looking up at the sky and breathing deeply, trying to regain composure. My jacket was unzipped carelessly, my strides were long and bold… It was an attempt to become one with the wind, one with the coming storm, to cast off all formalities, reject the laws of physics, and fly over the earth in elemental fury.
A burning array of yellow windows was outlined brightly against the gray carcasses of the buildings, almost indiscernible in the surrounding darkness… I wish I could say the same about the drunken crowd of people, who were shouting and cursing loudly, while checking out the surroundings with an immense hunger for destruction. So I halted for a moment, praying to become invisible.
*Anima: soul (the meaning which was chosen by me for this story)
**Leo: (in astrology) the sign where the Sun is domiciled (Sun is the ruler there and it is strong). Leo and the Sun stand for the Ego and can symbolize utter selfishness at the low level of self-development (primitiveness).
‘To sleep, to dream, to dive into the depth of the endless ocean which hides millions of barely existing realities on the brim of your imagination. When you fall asleep, the warmth and softness surround you, lulling and carrying you to the void, to the darkest darkness where you do not exist anymore, where you feel pain no more, and where you are unified with the Universe. And then you find yourself diving into the utmost depth of the boundless ocean, where you become whole, accepted, and never alone. You sway in its waters and get carried away by its currents to all existing memories, hopes, causes, outcomes, futures, pasts, presents – all possible variations of time. You can choose your favorite one… Why does anyone even want to wake up?
Sure, there are nightmares, but reality is also full of them, isn’t it? There are dark sides in every possible representation of infinity; otherwise nothing could be compound, complicated and mysterious, definitely not as intriguingly contrastive as any crowd would like. Though, in comparison with reality, our dreams are more subtle. Everything moves and shifts its shape like a fog, or like a cloud: now you see a forest, and than it turns out to be a castle, and later perhaps a ship, or isn’t it the old man’s bald head? Strange. But so vague, dynamic and playful. You can discover all the answers and the hints in your dreams; all kinds of knowledge: spiritual, psychological, or occult. Everything may reveal itself before you when you are open and sensitive enough – I am. I love to sleep. I live to sleep. I’d die…’
Coconut Doesn't Exist 