Reborn

TW Description of death

REBORN by Kryste Andrews  

The leaving occurs without regret or grief, her death anticipated, all preparations in order.  

Twenty Still Living gather around the place of her leaving, their arms extended, palms up in confirmation of Jesse’s purpose, the moving of her SPIRIT to its next phase. Jesse cherishes their ritual, their sanctioning of her return to a reality beyond the mirage of earthly existence. Soon enough, she will return to earth with proof of the Real World for all to see and hear.

Her human brain had never erased the knowing she brought with her, as it does for most. Instead, Jesse’s light shone brightly from her with her first breath and that great light intensified through the years of bombardment by the unknowers who stand in the dark.

The Twenty Still Living assist Jesse’s spirit with the rise and fall of their arms in unison, reaching out in front as if holding a tarp to boost the ascension. The arms move and the people wait and watch the change in skin color take place. A steady withdrawing of presence starts at the head, moves down the body and is gone. A pallor is left behind. The Twenty Still Living smile and clap hands. Some embrace. Some cry with joy.

Jesse has floated out of her body in ecstasy, whisking past the organs and bones, drifting away from the veins stripped of their job.

A treasure greets her – nothingness, a void, familiar in its all-encompassing perfection. No bodies. No minds. Only Spirit. Being. ALL THAT IS

Perhaps a century passes or perhaps it’s only a moment before light emerges. Thousands upon thousands of what she guesses must be Light Beings have joined into one massive glow. The Spirit who was Jesse is drawn to the expanse of light, not drawn as in tugged, because there is no body to touch. It’s more like melding, dissolving but not disappearing altogether. The Jesse she used to be is no more and yet . . .

The Spirit who was Jesse merges with the immeasurable Light, the Light Beings who shine, elevated Light Beings who have come and gone for eons until they need no more learning. In this reality, this joining, they are reminded of what they KNOW, who they ARE, hence the assimilation into ALL THAT IS. A voice comes, an earthly voice, questioning.  “Are you complete?”

“Yes, this is completion. This is KNOWING once more, BEING. And so I will return to earth. Embodied, I will carry proof from this reminder. The Twenty Still Living await my return.”

The merged soul who was Jesse lingers in the glory of ALL THAT IS, aware of the irrelevance of time in the beyond. Sounds enter her field of Light Beings. These sounds are collections of vibrations unknown to humans, more glorious than imagined on earth. The sounds, like the light, exist without a point of inception. What has always been and always will be has no origin and no ending.

The sounds cause the lights to glow more intensely. The sounds glorify the soul that was Jesse.

“Are you ready?” the voice asks.

“I am ready.”

The soul that once was Jesse, now a Light Being, removes from the mass of Light and becomes manifest once again. She is born to Florin, a young woman clothed in rags, lying alone on a wooden pallet in a tiny shed.

Florin coos to her tiny babe. “I’ll call you Santaly. You are my blessing, my Santaly.” 

Santaly focuses her eyes on her mother and comforts her with her knowing. The newborn shines with the light from the Real World. Florin’s eyes grow large with wonder as the shadows in the shed disappear in the sudden brightness of the room.  

“You bring miracles, my precious one.” 

The baby suckles and the two rest, contented. The light in the room softens.

Too soon, shouts disturb the quiet night. Florin reaches for her satchel on the floor beside her and pulls out a soft wrap to cover her babe. She places Santaly into the satchel and whispers, “Don’t make a sound, my precious one.”  She closes the bag part way, allowing air to enter. The baby remains still and quiet. They are safe, undiscovered.

Florin leaves her babe in the shed for a short time twice a day for the next five days while she forages for food. The two are content, warmed by the light that emanates from Santaly. On the sixth day, Florin lifts the satchel with her baby tucked inside and opens the door of the shed. She turns in the direction of the rising sun and, spotting the mountain she knows to look for, the mother begins the trek. She walks for miles, stopping only to pick berries and feed her baby.

Florin’s people have moved to the area rich with water and fertile soil at the base of the mountain. The people have settled into hastily erected huts. Florin and Santaly are welcomed and Mother and babe are fed and given shelter and clean cloths. Murmurings are heard. “This child shines with a light we have not seen before.” “Her eyes see me as no other eyes can.”

Months pass. Daily, Santaly totters from dwelling to dwelling, bringing her light and touching those who are in pain, healing wounds and bruises. At each evening ritual, the Medicine Woman confers with the little one before choosing her songs and incantations. Santaly stands near the Medicine Woman and holds out her hands, palms up, eyes closed during the ceremony. 

In the daytime, Santaly sits under a pine tree and talks with birds and animals who visit. She does not play with the other children by the river, but each child in turn comes to her side and sits, smiling and laughing, singing the songs they learn from the little girl who shines. They bring tidbits to feed the animals and so make friends with all the creatures.  

The bounty of the settlement lasts for ten years. This time is peaceful and all is provided for the comfort and health of everyone.

One day, a young scout runs down from the mountaintop and exclaims, “Strangers are coming. We must leave.”

Everyone but Santaly scurries to gather belongings and disappear into the woods. The ten-year-old remains at the base of her tree and sings the songs of the Real World, songs without words. The sounds reach deep within the soul of the listener so that whoever hears them must be at peace.

The vibrations from Santaly’s voice reach the strangers from quite a distance. Heartbeats quicken and footsteps slow as the sounds from the Real World swirl and spin and convey only goodness, light.  

Much later, as the sun is setting, throwing shadows on the mountain, Santaly’s people peer out from their hiding places behind trees. They take tentative steps and marvel at the sight of men painted in bold colors seated with crossed legs in a tight circle around Santaly. She is singing. The people come closer, curious. The light shining from Santaly surrounds the group. The strange men appear dazed, hypnotized, their eyes closed. Fear leaves the people and they gather and sit outside the group of warriors.

Sometime later, women rise and begin preparing the evening meal. They serve all those gathered, including the strangers. Afterwards, the ritual is held and the visitors sit, lulled by food and songs of welcome. They stretch out on the ground and sleep until morning. The people find their beds and sleep soundly, no longer afraid.

Two more years pass in peace and contentment. The soil will soon be depleted, however, and so it is time to move on. The people begin the journey over the mountain in search of a new source of food. This direction leads them away from other tribes, the areas where community exists, those who have gathered together in great numbers.

Santaly is called to the communities, the places where she must go to sing her songs and shine her light.  She watches as her mother and the others walk single file, climbing higher among the trees until they are out of sight. She turns and walks in search of her friends, the Twenty Still Living, whoever and wherever they may be. She has promises to keep, knowledge to bestow.