Guardians of Eras

I have always known that I had a purpose. I mean a purpose other than being born, living, and dying. We all have a reason for being here. We weren't meant to "occur" without notice or fulfillment. The problem is recognizing what it means to be human. Humans were introduced; our cycle set in motion. Our greatest attributes are within us along with our greatest flaws, but few recognize either. We contain a survival instinct that overrules even our deepest desire to destroy ourselves, yet we live in defiance and self indulgence. Clinging to external resources to survive, we reach outward attempting to accomplish and create in order to feel worthy. We constantly seek approval from each other rather than bestow it on ourselves using our greatest gifts. When we fall short of approval or do not measure up, we blame everyone around us. We have self interest at heart, worship Gods for all times while killing in the names of those Gods. We study words and deeds set forth in practice, passed down through history, live by traditions and customs, write laws to govern, and more to govern those, demand recognition for our races, creeds, colors, and symbols, meant for specific groups, used to divide, to separate, and for justification of righteous existence. We do not trust each other let alone love one another. We surround ourselves with networks of unique individuals in which we place a certain amount of faith, love, and trust but look on the rest with suspicion, distrust, and great judgment.

We do, however possess strength of will, a fighting power, a staying force, an ability to overcome and a compassion for causes, objects, and specific living things.

It is in these things that great discoveries are made, technologies are founded, abundance is enjoyed, and life is loved and cherished. It is the very essence of balance, the complexity of every single detail, the goodness and evil, the right and wrong, the imperfect and close to perfect, and the failures and successes, that comprise the map of just one ordinary human. This is where my story begins.

I have been here on this earth since the beginning; a beginning, my beginning. I am merely a speck in the vastness of humankind, and I have lived many lifetimes already.

For me to communicate clearly, and for you to understand, I must prepare a “way”. It is the end again, and yet the beginning. I am not sure why I remember, but I do and each time I come to this point I imagine I must be unique or chosen and that I must try harder to help facilitate change, but it is the same…always the same.

Before this last breaking we had almost recovered some technologies that had been lost to us many times over. I am astonished at the collective knowledge required to overcome challenges that we learned to defeat early on, but our minds are different each time we begin anew. Sometimes robust in their infinite wisdom and inventiveness, sometimes simple and primitive, with little creativity, yet it is during these cycles that we are so prime and eager for knowledge.

It is hard to breathe now, the air is thick and heavy, so poisonous it would sear my lungs like a laser through silk. The breathing apparatus, tight and uncomfortable, squeezes the sides of my head as if to permanently imbed itself into my skin. I long for lost days of clear blue skies and fresh, clean air, humans took so much for granted. Walking and climbing through miles of ruined cities, the remains of once tall, proud, buildings lay in heaps of scorched and twisted marble, concrete, and rebar, making a strange myriad of haunting shapes across the tortured landscape

I have been recycled again although I am not sure why. I am not alone however; there is another who remembers each lifetime. He or possibly she, will be walking as well, like me, searching, waiting for the designated time that we finally discover each other. We are always human, and we will find each other. I am female again and it is the third consecutive time. I am 23 years young. In his last lifetime it was his second consecutive time being male. Regardless of our gender, we have been together, since our beginning. There is much that changes, and yet much that remains the same. Skin color, race, our ethnicities, our countries, our religions, and customs are often opposed but we are usually similar in age, and know each other each time our paths cross, somehow they always do. The forces that spin our lives and weave them in and out of time make sure of this, and once we do, we spend our lives trying to discover what purpose our memories serve and how we might change the inevitable outcome. We have had to be so careful, we know things and have seen things that frighten people. Humans are skittish and fearful, and live to destroy what they cannot or will not understand in order to overcome it. The more we reveal the more we are feared and usually destroyed. We share this secret, these memories of lifetimes past, and humanity’s frailties. We have a bond of deep friendship and companionship and I know he, or she is searching, just as I am, picking our way across the charred and battered land, surviving however we can in order to find each other again. The last time was different for us, in one incredible way: we had a son. Three years ago I returned to the place we had made our home, from our past life. The area had been decimated, but I found it, by carefully sifting through the blackened stones of our once beautiful, fireplace. It was literally a lifetime ago that I had chiseled the mortar away and carefully removed a small river rock, and placed the small heart shaped locket, wrapped in plastic and then cloth, into the revealed space. It presses now against my skin, held firmly by the infinite layers of protective clothing. Is he alive? If not, was he recycled? Will he remember like his parents do? So many questions, but all I can do is keep searching, and carry with me the only likeness of him I will remember.