Are imaginary lives past lives?

I wanted to write these words to you, it has been a minute since we last saw each other. There are many things I would like to share with you. You know it takes time for me to put my thoughts and words together and I do better by writing them down. I wish I could let you see and hear all that I have experienced by just touching your hand. 

I will try my best to keep this short but meaningful. I remember last time we talked you were overcoming some solitude. We talked about work and our difficulties and our dreams. Our dreams. When would they come true? In some distant future? The next day? We put them out in the air. In a way saying them out loud made us feel that they were meant to come true. I wonder how many of your dreams came true. Are you still reading that book? There are so many books that I start and so little that I finish. I am still trying not to blame myself for that. There is only so much you can do with time.

I still want to do everything in one day, you know me – racing through the week as if there was no tomorrow. I recognize there is a lot of work to do in a sense of letting go. And I am taking it day by day. Clearing my mind from all to do lists. Which is so hard. Especially when you live in New York. I think you get addicted to a sense of accomplishment. There is never enough. You work until your eyes are red and close the computer knowing you are not done. I see myself involved in many projects – the dreadful ones pay more. Though recently I started a couple that are promising and that gives me hope. I know we talked about this. And I can see how I am wasting my time. There is a world outside but my body wants rest when I am not working. I am using my brain too much. My body is at a pause and it is showing. 

I just wanted to show you my human condition before talking about spirit. When I say spirit I remember you. The color of your eyes. When I remember them I wish I had stared at them a little longer — in silence. Why did we never do that? I mean on purpose. We would have felt so much. There is a breaking point when you look at someone in the eyes for too long. There is a moment when you see yourself.

It is a challenge for me. I don’t always want to be truly seen or to truly see someone. I feel so much. I am learning to look at peoples eyes. I have noticed that I am not the only one.  I observe people in the streets and when we make eye contact – we talk. I can feel what they are feeling. Some look longer and I look away. It is a way of giving up, or setting boundaries I guess. It is almost as a silent rule. Don’t look at strangers in the eyes, or not for too long. What could happen if we stared for too long? I feel that something would explode.

Everyone is looking down at their phones. We think whatever is important is happening there. It makes me sad. When I am aware of this sickness I look out and then I see the world and I see my life. How do you describe life? There is not an emoji for that.

I remember your body and your hands. The way you listen to me, the way you talk about something you love or what makes you sad or afraid. I have never met someone like you. There is a sense that we will see each other again but there is no rule to that. There is little we have in control. Life is so thin. Even If I see you again I don’t know If I would find you again, I hope I do. I hope I made you feel good. Or at least that you have mostly good memories from our time. Please forgive me for being afraid. Forgive me for holding your wings and doubting your strength. I was afraid the world would harm you. Afraid you would feel pain. I wanted to keep you next to me so I could take care of you. I have to take care of myself first. Of this body that will be with me for however long it is planned. This body that has a purpose of its own. I am still discovering myself in it everyday. As if it was this glove that I use day to day. I am expanding everyday in it a little more. And so are you.

Drink water and be close to nature. If you are feeling sad cry in the grass. I don’t cry. I can feel immensely sad but crying does not come easily to me. Maybe If we looked at each others eyes for long I would cry. I wish for that to happen. These days I am doubting any fact or judgement made by any person. Remember I believed everything everyone said to be real. I questioned myself so many times. I wonder where it comes from. I actually know. 

I was a boy, I was five years old. I was at the beach with my mom and I drowned. My name was Thomas. 

I had black hair and pale skin, blue eyes. It was the last days of summer and we took the boat. My dad was a fisher and my mom was a baker. It had been a gloomy day but it was hot so my mother took the boat as she knew how much I loved being in the water and so did she. We would just look at the sea and I would lay on her belly while she read me plane stories written by her brother. He wrote a small children book for me. 21 stories of 21 adventures he had had when flying around Europe and Africa. I wanted to be like him. 

I was a calm boy. An observer. I had a book with drawings on birds and boats. And some fishes just to make my dad feel proud. My brother Benjamin was older than me. He was also kind and reserved. He was close to mom and would try to push me away just to be with her and I would cry. My mom loved us both the same way but we wanted to have more love than the other. I wonder If she ever noticed that. Alice, her name was Alice. She had blue eyes and gray hair. 

She owned a small bakery in the town and everyone knew her for her incredible berry pies. She baked every single day and she loved every minute of it. She never complained about her work and we would go with her to pick up cherries in the woods. That day of my death I had cherries colors and scent in my small fingers. I think my mom knew I would die. 

When we arrived from our sail and as we were bringing the wooden boat back to shore, a wave hit the boat and my book fell. My precious book. With out thinking it I jumped into the water in hopes of getting it. My mom did not see me at first. When I realized I had no floor, another wave came and I was gone. I did not know how to swim.

I was in deep sea. I could only see my mother from afar screaming my name and getting into the water. Her dress was too heavy so she took it out and started swimming desperately towards me. As she was screaming my name I slowly started seeing in the water. I kept diving in until I touched the floor. You fight so much and then you just give in. 

Your lungs are filled with water and you know you are dead. You see it. The fighting is more painful than giving in. 

Once I touched the shore I saw a light, it was a fish and then it was five and then it was ten. All inspecting me like a weird creature. I wanted to touch them but my body was death. My eyes were open for hours, not blinking. I was holding on to the idea that mom would come for me and somehow I would beat death, I would come back to life or perhaps this would be a dream and soon I would wake up. But my body was there for three days until the water brought me back to shore. 

After days of complete solitude and hope I was back in the shore. Some fishermen found me at 5am. They were horrified by my purple skin and rotten eyes. They my father’s friends.

They went to get him to see me, trying not to get my mom to know. But she knew. He begged her not to come see me but my mother, who had been crying for three straight days raced to see me. I will never forget her face. She looked like a ghost. At this point I was not in my body I was standing next to it. I am not exactly sure at what moment I passed from being in my body to just looking at it. It felt so nice not to have a body. You are weightless, there is no gravity but somehow you are still standing on earth. Orbiting perhaps. She fell to the ground and hugged me regardless of my corpse smell. She hugged me and the fisherman and my father pushed her away from me. I looked like a monster. She could not see that. 

My poor mother never baked again. My father cried in silence. I could go into details about their sad and broken life for years. But there is not much to know other than it was gray and gloomy in that side of town – for decades to come. 

My mom blamed herself for long and my dad learned to stand up but there was a whole in his chest that he could fill only with reading poetry to my mom. My brother became a doctor and married a good woman. Their newborn brought life back to my mom in her later life. Mom does not know that I accompanied her all those years. For 23 years all I saw was that town and their lives. I did not try to interact with anyone else but my mom. 

Sometimes I brought her cherries so she would bake again but she tossed them away. Later I realized that they would remind her of that tragic day. I brought her birds to her windows and she would stare at them in a way that felt like she was staring at me. Her mind would wonder off and her thoughts would reach me. It was just us in that room. She would talk to me and I would answer with joy. I had no hate or pain in my heart. I just wanted to love my mom even if it was form afar. 

I noticed how their lives their bodies and attitudes changed. They were everything I thought of the world. Until one day I heard a different voice in the house. At the beginning I was looking for the house guest but later realized the voice came from my side of the house. Came from my back and I noticed I had never looked at my back. I looked and it was a woman. She has long gray hair and a Native American face. I could barely see her eyes, her cheekbones were prominent and her hands looked strong. She called my name and I looked at her. It is time sweet boy. Your time here has come to and end. Your family does not need you anymore. What do you mean they don’t need me? You guided them for 23 years through their loss of you. But now Amanda came to their lives and she will bring back the sweetness of your missed life. But what If I want to see them? You can always go back to them but first you must see your other options. Do I have options? Sweet boy you have plenty. Can I go back to living? Is that what you wish? Yes. She grabbed my hand an I saw it all. All the options all the seas all the plants all the desserts all the rocks. I saw the world. I was without words and I was ready to whatever it was to come. I was astonished by this fairy old woman. Could I be like you? You don’t have to be like me but you can be a woman. You will fall in love and you will be naive. You will live in a generation that will be critical for our earth and you will remain truth to the voice in your heart. The voice of the rocks and the plants and the sea. Not the voice of men. And for the first time ever I cried. I cried and I cried.

Recruiting in myself again. I have found peace in my own company. My room gives me peace but still it has its restrictions. My window faces other peoples window and I can only see a small part of the roof. It is sunny outside. These have been the most beautiful days in New York. It is Fall and it seems like late summer. Yet I don’t have much energy to go outside. I feel that I am healing. I know it is time to be and feel by myself. I was noticing everything. How people escape from their lives and stare at the world from their screens.

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