The Fabolous Lives of I

I darted down the bustling city streets, ducked between a pair of skyscrapers, and emerged on a hilltop in the wilderness. I looked around, puzzled by this sudden change in location.

"Not again," I moaned, worried my friends would be pissed at me. The timing was terrible. I was already late. I was always the friend who arrived way too late.

Suddenly it all came back to me. I had rushed across the street without checking first. A car had plowed into me. Then it all went black.

I sat down on the hilltop, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Oh bugger, I'm dead, aren't I?!"

"Indeed, you are.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I hadn't noticed the Man sitting next to me, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. He had a human-like body, pale and lean, and draped in a sky-blue tabard. I couldn't make out his facial features.

He spoke like a whisper that was like a shout.

It was a voice like a waterfall, like the wind through fir trees. It was like the pounding of my heart, like the rain against my window, like the crackle of the fire, like thunder exploding around me.

I blinked. "Is this the afterlife?" I asked. "Are you God?"

"Which one?" asked the Man and shrugged. "You humans have so many of them."

He didn't sound like an angel, but then again, I'd never heard an angel speak.

"But where am I?" I asked. He didn't answer.

"Besides, I wasn't done yet," I protested, finally realizing that I really was dead.

"No, you're done, both in this lifetime and other lifetimes."

"I've had more?"

"Yes. Do you want me to show you some of them?"

"Yes, please."

The Life of a Cat

The Man, who was now invisible to me, was holding me. His hand warmed my back. Then he placed me on the floor. I could feel the wood, grains of it, but it wasn't hard. It gave beneath my paws.

I could hear the sound of the wind through the window over the sink, and I could smell the food on the stove. I could smell her. It was a good smell. I could smell myself, and my fur seemed to bounce with energy. I felt soft yet strong. My fur felt like satin, but I had claws that felt sharp like knives.

I looked around the room. There was the bookcase. I always slept on top of that. There was the door. I always balanced on top of that. There were the shelves, my personal playground with things to knock on the floor all day long.

If she didn't want me to knock them over, she wouldn't put them back on my shelves, would she?

I was always landing on my feet as a cat. How odd. I didn't like heights before this lifetime. Everyone was always trying to shove me into places that were too high for me. Maybe that's why I became cat.

"This is a good life," I told the Man. "A good cat's life."

"How did it feel to always land on your feet?"

I knew the answer. "It felt like flying."

"How did it feel to be a cat?" he asked.

"I was sleek, smart, and at the same time, playful. I felt so powerful, yet so agile."

"Yes, that does sound like a cat."

"What if we have a bad life? Something bad happened to me once, and I want to understand why."

I didn't know who was speaking, but it wasn't my voice. I felt disconnected from myself, somehow.

"Let's see," said the Man, holding me close.

The Life of a Little Plant

I was a tiny plant in a pot, the size of a pea, and my stem was a furry bright green. I had a single leaf at the top of my plant, and I was growing. I could feel the sun above me and the water below my roots.

I don't know how long it went on. A long time, I think. Then, one day, my green stem was picked, and someone took me from my pot. I was placed in a dark plastic cup. Then my green stem was picked again.

My leaf was taken, and it wasn't replaced. I heard a hissing noise, and a sharp pain blossomed in my side. I felt the water inside me. It was cold. I felt my sides, but I was too small to reach my sides. I thought I was going to drown. I felt wetness and then nothing.

"I don't want to do this," I told the Man.

"You don't have to; you've already done that life," he answered.

We sat there together for a while as I calmed myself.

"Alright, I'm ready. Try another."

The Life of a Knot in a Bedsheet

I didn't like this one at all. I was a knot in a piece of cloth. My only experience was being pressed and twisted. I remember that I was wet, constricted, and pressed together. I didn't like it, and I was afraid.

"How did it feel to be a knot?" he asked.

"I don’t know why I got stuck here," I whined. "It wasn't my fault."

"We all make choices for every life. You made your choice, and here you are."

"I don't want to be stuck here!" I cried.

"You are here because you are finished there. Let's move on."

"That was a short life though."

"How long a life last is not important; how you feel about that life is."

The Life of a Shoe

This one was better. It was the life of a shoe. I was the most graceful shoe this girl ever had. She danced with her friends, but her feet felt so light around me. She could twirl so gracefully because I was so light under her feet. I was happy.

"How did it feel to be a shoe?" he asked.

"I felt like I was serving a purpose."

"Good."

"It didn't last very long."

"That doesn't matter," he said. "What matters is how you feel."

"I felt happy."

"Good." He paused. "Let's try another."

The Life of a Pencil

I started off as a pencil. A No. 2 graphite pencil. I liked my life. I was the best pencil in the box.

I wrote for this little boy. I made his lettering perfect. I made his drawings look great. I made his homework flawless.

I was the best pencil this boy could have. He could make me look like I could do anything. Across the page, he crafted galaxies, weaving stories together, creating life together.

I was the best pencil that ever was.

I didn't know when it happened, but I was in a box with other pencils. I couldn't write anymore.

"How did it feel to be a pencil?" he asked.

"It felt good at first," I told him.

"How did it feel when you stopped writing?"

"I felt useless."

"Alright," he said. "Do you want to be a pencil again?"

"No," I said. "I'm done with that."

The Facilitator

"Who are you anyway?" I asked, realizing he never really answered me.

"I am the Facilitator. I facilitate the process."

"What is the process?"

"The process of finding your truth."

I thought about this.

"What is 'truth'?" I asked the Facilitator.

He chuckled.

"Truth is your understanding of the reality. It changes depending on the perspective. What you understand now about the reality is not always what you understand later."

"Truth is truth; it can't change!" I exclaimed.

"You say that after all those different lives you've had? Truth is what you see, what you understand. Truth is your feelings, thoughts, and emotions. Even if no one else shares them or understands them, they are still your Truth.

"What about ideas?" I asked.

"Ideas are real. They are real because they exist, even if they only exist in your head.

I had to let it all sink in for a moment.

"What does it feel like for Earth to host so many lives? Can you show me the life of a planet?"

"You already know. You have stardust in your bones, as the very fabric of exploded stars drift through the galaxy and gathers on Earth" he answered.

"I'd still like to know."

"Alright. I'll do it your way." He held me close again, and then I floated into another life.

The Life of a Planet

I was a planet. Strictly speaking, I was a big lump of stardust clinging together, forming a home to so many families. I felt like I was something big because I was big.

I was spinning, and I could feel the bright sparks of life on my outside. I was spinning, but they were rooted.

It was hard to see the life on me, because the living were so small. I knew that they were there. I felt good about them, but I was unsure what they were there for.

All around me, I felt a deep sense of peace. I felt a deep sense of warmth. I kept spinning. I kept giving birth to entire families. Then the families drifted away and were no more.

I was alone again. I was spinning through space by myself for a small eternity before I again exploded.

My stardust drifted off to space, some becoming planets, others gathering in the very bones of the creatures on the planets.

"I don't want to be a planet anymore," I told the Facilitator. "Actually, you are right. I'm done with this and other lifetimes. I don't think I find my Truth here."

"Yes, I already knew you were ready for the next step on the journey. I just needed you to know too. Will you miss all your lifetimes?"

"Yes," I told him. "I'll miss this one," I pointed at the cat lying on his back, exposing his belly. "That one," I pointed at the shoe. "Also, you," nodding towards the pencil. "Even you two," I added to the plant and the knot.

"I did a lot of lives, didn't I?" I asked the Man, thinking about all the other ones lining up behind me.

"You have done a lot of lives," he confirmed.

"It's been a good journey," I told the Man.

"It was a good journey," he agreed. We sat there for a small eternity.

"Do you know where you are now?" asked the Man suddenly with a warm smile.

To my surprise, I did. I was in the in-between, getting ready to say goodbye to Earth once and for all.

I could feel the joy. I could feel the warmth. I could feel the cold. I could feel the sadness about leaving and the happiness of going home.

"I'm ready."

I looked up. The stars were beautiful. They were twinkling. I tried to point at them with my finger, but I couldn't find it. There was no finger anymore.

I dissolved into stardust once more, ready to be carried off to faraway universes and galaxies.