Shifting Tides

In the beginning was the spirit, the stirring. And the spirit was the word, the interaction. And the spirit was the almighty, the source of all things

Slowly I amble my way down the path. I’ve been called on. There is this tradition in our galaxy, and it goes something like this. You are born. Then, when your own offspring is born. Eventually your own offspring splits off and have their own offspring. Well, around this time. Whenever the offspring of your offspring have lived to see twelve complete cycles of the seasons, either parent of the parent of said offspring must send out “the call.” And that offspring must then, drop whatever they are engaged with, and immediately, with haste, prepare themselves and pay the caller a visit. To hear of the mystery. This mystery that is passed down over and over and over again, forever and ever. And tonight. Now it’s my turn. I’ve been called. And I’m dreadfully nervous. A shiver spikes down my back. I don’t know how to relate, to be honest. But I must do it properly. Okay, I’m at the door now.
I reach and ring the bell. Immediately I am swept into the house with shrieks of laughter and delight. My speculations and fears of a hunched over fragile figure are immediately shattered as I am rushed into the kitchen for a cup of the great and amazing beverage of welcome into adulthood. I take and she begins.

“In the beginning was the spirit, the stirring. And the spirit was the word, the interaction. And the spirit was the almighty, the source of all things.”

I’m instantly taken in deep as this world begins to shrivel and I enter into the other. The beginning. And the end. And everything in between.

From nothing, everything burst into bloom. Over an extended period of time everything takes shape. Ignited by a voice. Bellowed from a mysterious source. Eventually consciousness emerges. And the voice says, ‘That’s pretty cool. They’re like me.’ Soon, however, these conscious beings began to misbehave and scream and curse and kill each other. With a sigh, the voice shouted ‘STOP!’ And everyone stopped. They ran into their caves in terror. A day or so later, out they came again. And they were back at it again. The killing and cursing and the massacres. Stumped, the voice began to wonder, ‘What to do. This is not working. These acts of power and rage do something. Fear has a way of bringing quite and solice to me. But is that the best I can do?’

Then the world went black

I open my eyes. I’m in some sort of animal shelter. The smell makes this clear. And the sounds. But wait, that sound doesn’t belong in a barn. I amble over toward the sound. A couple people are huddled around a feeding trough. A tiny offspring is lying inside. There’s something that strikes me as familiar here. But what is it? Is that?

The world again goes black and a text flashes by, “30 years later.”

I open my eyes. I’m on a hillside. Amidst a crowd of people. A figure at the bottom of the hill has everyone’s attention. “Listen to this! Really! This is important. You think top down power is how to make a difference? No Way! I can say from personal experience, that doesn’t work.” He glances up. Notices me, and winks. Then continues. “True power is to love those who treat you like shit. True power is to listen, even when you don’t feel listened to. If you want to find true life, you have to give it up. Yes! If you think power changes the heart, and the world, for good, you have to die! If you want to live.”
Wow, that stings. Everything fades as I try to make sense of this shit. An incoming roar wakes me and I watch in horror and the man is lead away by the police.

Moments later I’m at home, flipping through channels. Blah, blah, blah. Until, “It’s just been confirmed! A man has been found, tortured and killed in a church basement.”
I gasp! It’s him. The camera zooms in. There’s a sign lying on his chest. “The man of ‘true power’. lol”

I’m. Shocked.

Eventually through the tears I fall asleep. As the drool begins to drip out of my half open mouth my dream world flashes to life. “Child.” It’s him. “I guess that didn’t work out well. But now I’m all around. And I’m nowhere. I’m always with you. Wherever you are, for love. In the depth of love. You’ll find me there. In the stranger. In the darkness. Welcome me. Spread the word. Power is not love. Love is found in the ‘giving up’ of power.”

Slowly I open my eyes. And there’s my parent’s parent. Smiling widely. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Confused I shake my head.
What a trip.
“What was in that tea?”
But she just smiles, and slowly disappears
With a shriek I sit up in my bed, stumble over to splash some water on my face.

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