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Penny asked to be born. She could remember every detail of it - standing (kneeling? being?) on the edge of a precipice, watching a kaleidescope of possibilities swirl below. When it felt right, she leaped (propelled? launched?) over the edge and down, down, down... She understood the warmth that surrounded her as being her mother's womb. She was rocked gently and soothed by the sound and feel of her mother's heartbeat. Occasionally she got a sense of happenings on the outside. Muffled voices became clearer as her ears developed. Fluttering touches became more pronounced as she grew larger inside her mother. Mostly she rested, and waited for what she knew would be coming. Penny understood why babies cry so protestingly at their birth. Really, anyone would protest at the lights being turned on suddenly after nine months of darkness. Anyone would cry when gentle, soothing sounds became a confusing cacophony in an instant. She expected the memories of her past lives, her wait between, and her growth in her mother's womb to fade, as they always did. Usually, by the time a child has learned how to speak, these memories have been gently removed so as not to interfere with the experiences and lessons of the current life. But as Penny grew older, the memories stayed. As a child, with a child's judgement and sense of honesty, Penny tried to share her knowledge with others. Everyone existed with such a blanket of fear wrapped around them that she knew she could offer comfort. She knew what lay on "the other side". She knew there was nothing to fear. At first people passed off her stories, mildly amused and perhaps a bit surprised that a child so young was making up tales of death and re-birth. Amusement grew into tolerance, tolerance changed to annoyance, and Penny learned, wisely, to keep her experiences to herself. She wondered why this life was different - why she was allowed (made?) to keep her memories intact. What's more, in this life she was able to see the life aura surrounding people - their storehouse of energy from that other place, that allows people to live and exist as a physical state. A trick of her eyes, a flexing of muscle, and she could see the gentle glow. Because of this, she could see how long people had to live. As a person exists, the energy inside them slowly decreases, threading away to return to the other place, and maintaining a connection with the person's soul. When the existence is expended, the end of the thread of energy acts as a line to pull the soul back and insert it once more into its store of energy. The ensouled energy then either chooses birth once again, or chooses to linger. Those called "soul-mates" share and draw from the same store of energy; by that virtue, they are drawn together again and again in the lives they choose. In everyone but herself - and she assumed that such things as cameras and mirrors could not capture her own - Penny could see the level of energy left in a person, through their aura. The "brighter" and "thicker" it was, the more life a person has yet to live. The "dimmer" and "thinner" the aura was, the shorter the remaining lifespan. This knowledge produced in Penny a peculiar sorrow-tinged ebullience. She knew, intimately, the beautiful place the soul went to after death. She knew that, indeed, there was no death; only a shifting, a change. Sadly, she couldn't share the comfort of that knowledge with grieving family members and friends. Penny's life went on. She grew, she went to school, she made a few friends. She went to college, graduated, and chose a career. She developed a certain degree of distance, born of necessity, from the people around her. Even her parents treated her as a foreign creature. Lovingly, to be sure, but the difference, and therefore the distance, was there. Days, months, and years passed as Penny made her quiet way. She visited the home of her parents less and less - she could see their auras diminishing, and the knowledge that her offering of comfort would be misunderstood, and spurned, was too painful for her. Finally her father and mother passed away, as is the way of soul mates, within days of one another. She knew they would remember, in that place between. They would understand what she was trying to tell them as a child, now. Listening to the priest at their funeral go on and on about Heaven and Hell, the Deserving and the Undeserving, Everlasting Life and Eternal Damnation, Penny couldn't help but smirk at how very wrong he got it all. Certainly, secular religion had a kernel of truth contained in it - birth, death, the cycle of life, and that mysterious "heavenly" place between. Hinduism was closer, with its Great Wheel and belief in reincarnation. They were merely fragments of memories retained by the souls in this existence that made their way into modern religion. Again Penny wondered, why was she allowed to remember it all? Was there a purpose she was supposed to be fulfilling? If so, it hadn't made itself obvious throughout her present life. She just went on as she judged would normally happen, should she not have those memories. She tried to live a normal life, all the while feeling quite the opposite inside. When, after many more years, it became apparent that Penny did not age and diminish as other people, she withdrew completely into her little country home, isolated from those who would question. All of her family, all of her friends, and all of the people she knew, grew old and passed away. Another generation came in their wake. And so life went on. A long walk down winding dirt roads from Penny's home was a non-denominational church. She passed it whenever she went to the small township for food, supplies, and news of the outside world. The church and its grounds had been, in one form or another, a part of her lives for thousands of years. It was a grove she had tended grapes in. It was town square she had sold her wares in. It was a temple she had worshipped in. It was a school she had learned in. Always, her physical being ended back at this place. On one seemingly ordinary day, some inner feeling prompted her to cross the threshold. What she saw inside made her pause, and gasp. The church's pews were filled with hundreds of people. All silent, all watching the man at the podium. At her gasp, hundreds of heads turned and calmly observed her entrance. None of the people - none of them at all - had auras. As the people watched her, one by one they began to smile. A warm, welcoming smile that told Penny they knew what she was, and they knew what she knew. Because they were the same as her, reborn with the memories of their past lives. They had no auras because they contained their energies within themselves - seemingly immortal in this existence, on this plane. They'd learned all the lessons they needed to learn by their past lives. They'd removed themselves from the cycle of birth and re-birth, until their purpose was done. Penny met the eyes of the people she'd never seen before, whom she was aware she had known for many lives. She joined them, gladly realizing her own purpose at last. It was now, finally, that the world would learn the truth. |