The Neanderthal woman

Around 100,300 years ago: I lived with my tribe in a cave in today’s Turkey. I had three children, but I spent most of my days taking care of my youngest, a baby boy. I had had him when I was old enough to enjoy the company of men. I was also more emotionally mature then, so I was more capable in containing and showing my motherly love. It was perhaps for that very reason that I was utterly heartbroken when I lost him. It happened when I was expecting it the least. It was summer time; the kindest and most beautiful time of year, when we would go out in groups of women to gather fruits for ourselves and our children.  I slept that night visualizing the blue skies and the delicious fruits that were waiting for me out there. The image brought a smile to my lips as I fell asleep. And then I woke up to a completely different reality. At first all I could feel was a gut-wrenching anxiety. A few moments passed until I realized why I was feeling that way. I had woken up with what I thought was the sound of rain, only to realize that it was in fact my child’s ragged breathing. His face and arms were burning, and he was not responding to my voice and crying. I sat there with him for three days. When the moon showed itself for the third time, he stopped breathing. Women came to me and sat with me as I sat beside my dead child, showing their sympathy and sorrow through their mournful silence and bowed heads. I was too consumed by my grief to notice their presence. Eventually some elders and young men came and gently took him outside to be buried. Now I felt as if there was a big hole in the middle of my chest which I hadn’t noticed was there before they took him. Nothing could take away my grief and sorrow, not even the flowers that my tribe put on the pile of dust where my child was buried.

Life changed completely after that. I was stationary most of the days, as I couldn’t find the will to move or do things. I would remain on the same spot all day and fall asleep right there at night. I was not responding or reacting to the world around me. I wouldn’t even move a muscle to keep myself warm or fed. Most days it was women of the tribe that took care of me and my children who were left alone as I was not capable of anything that required attention or physical movement. I had lost the will to survive, and as we lived in a dangerous environment, it could easily end up with the death of myself and my two children if it wasn’t for the protection and mercy of other members of the tribe.

This however was not the end for me. As they say, nothing stays the same forever, and it was true even over a hundred thousand years ago. At first I did not notice it when he got close to me, as I wasn't paying attention to the world around me. He however was too persistent even for me not to notice. He was a young man of the tribe who had recently joined the hunting group. He would bring me meat from the hunts, staying there to make sure I ate it. He would also keep an eye on my children as they would run around, playing with an ant nest or chasing a bird. Those days I wouldn’t notice their absence, as I spent all my days staring at the sky and chasing the clouds. Drowning myself in daydreaming was my escape from the reality I couldn’t bear. I noticed the young hunter more distinctly as he started bringing me little gifts; flowers, shiny colorful stones and once even a dead bird. As his attentiveness intensified he became another object besides the clouds for me to look at. He was good to look at too; with a soft skin that had not wrinkled yet in the long hours of hunting under the sun, and eyes that glowed with the curiosity of a young man who enjoyed his life. Gradually he became my connection to the present reality, and as if noticing that, he started getting closer. He would try to have mental and emotional contact with me through gazing into my eyes and touching me. At first I resisted, turning my head and refusing to look at him but eventually I gave in, though now I would resist internally; slipping into daydreaming in his presence and ignoring him mentally. My numbness and absence from the reality was still my number one companion, still closer to me than my own breath, but I knew better than trying to resist a young male in a more obvious way, especially since I knew by then he was particularly passionate and persistent in achieving what he wanted. So I would wait for him every day in my corner of the cave to bring his gift of the day and do what he wanted with me.

Days passed, I saw sun and moon many times moving from one side of the sky to the other. One day I went out of the cave for the first time after a long time. As my eyes got used to the daylight, I saw my children playing, and I couldn’t help smiling. They had grown so much without me noticing. More days passed and I would go out now every day to play with my children. When the clouds began to darken and the grounds went wet, my belly rounded out. Next time the clouds went pale again and the grounds dried, I had a new child. She brought me joy and happiness, so much so that I felt more alive than I ever had before. I loved her more than all my children including the one I had lost, as I knew she had come to save me from a fatal grief that I could not put behind me. I started taking care of my children and those of others’ as well to show my gratitude to mothers who had taken care of me and my children when I wasn’t in this world.

Days passed. Winter came and then it was summer again. My little daughter was growing fast and life was good. And then, THEY came. We had seen them before from distance as they were coming to live in an area close to us. At the time we had decided not to attract their attention, and soon we were going to find out exactly how much we were better off that way. They were taller than us and had slender legs and arms. We called them Long Ones. That day as they were getting close, we had a chance to have a better look at them for the first time. They had soft skins and had their faces and chests painted on with red and white colors. Their skulls were elongated and relatively round on the top. What gave us a shock however was none of that. As they got closer we realized they had ornamented their necks and arms with necklaces and bracelets made of bones. To our utmost horror did we realize those were bones that belonged to people like us. We were still in shock when they started slaughtering us. Next thing I knew I was bathed in my own blood, with my neck broken and my stomach open. The last thought that passed through my mind was an image of one of them wearing my finger bones around his neck as he was going to slaughter another tribe. I imagined my fingers squeezing his throat before he could reach them.

It was a completely different story when I got out of my body. The fear and pain disappeared – as it always does- and I knew there was nothing to worry about, though I was now angry. Then typical to my most after death moments, I was distracted as I went through a phase of being grossed out by the fact that how ugly I had been. This time it was worse than ever, as my body and face had been savagely crushed and broken by Long Ones. They attacked us when our men had gone hunting, so the slaughter went swiftly -since we had no means of defending ourselves. Nevertheless they had taken their time to decorate the entire cave with our blood and intestines.

With some difficulty I forced myself to turn my attention from the messy scene and focus instead on the whole lifetime and what it had been about. Only to realize it was pointless. I couldn’t think of anything but pain and suffering that I had endured. All I could see was a lifetime of endless fear and loss and my exit had not been better either. At the same time I couldn’t help being embarrassed in front of my guides as I noticed them being looking at me with quiet, polite expectancy. I knew why. Life lessons were not to be given as lectures, but they were supposed to be self-obtained; brought to realization by the very individual that experienced them. On the other hand I was not completely awake yet, still being haunted by and processing my violent death. I would not admit it, but surreptitiously I was considering going back and haunting those tall bastards who had decorated our cave with our internals. I had tried sincerely to fathom what the point of such painful and violent life and death was, but I hadn’t succeeded. I heard my higherself sigh.

“Yes?” I asked, exasperated and half taken by surprise.

“Seriously, can’t you see? It’s obvious,” answered my higherself sounding equally annoyed and with a movement I could sense to be similar to eye-rolling.

“What is obvious is that I had to go through a lifetime full of pointless pain and utter powerlessness again. Nothing can be gained of such suffering when you don’t even have enough thinking power to learn something out of it. 

“But there is a lot to be gained. Every soul goes through such lifetimes, even those who took your life with the delusion of having power. Come on now, you’re out of the body, free from the limitations associated with the physical experience. You can see if you let go of emotions. Both the invader and the victim go through this game to understand the value of boundaries. That’s why every soul experiences both sides, so that they could get the point from different angles. You have done the same many times before, and perhaps you will do it again as I’m sure you already know the value of such lessons (to this, I actually rolled my eyes. My higherself continued, deciding to ignore that). Still can’t see how much you have gained? And it’s not just that. Have you forgotten the research you started on this particular life form before you go, and that living among them as one of them was a part of your methodology? It was your own suggestion to do that, and I thought that it was a brilliant idea. I still think it was. Now come one, think about it. Release the flow of emotion. I know it wasn’t an easy experience, but you were completely aware of that too. You were, in fact, so excited about your research and the speech you’re going to give in the galactic council conference that you didn’t even give much thought to the hardships of living as a Neanderthal woman.”

“Oh…I…” was all I could say, still struggling with my emotions but also remembering my research and realizing that I had completely forgotten about it to this point. With that the flow of memories started pouring into my mind and washing away the coarse emotions. This was so confusing.

“So why don’t you tell me what you think now, dearest extension of mine? And don’t worry; time is nothing but an illusion of the 3^rd density, so you’re not wasting any of it here,” continued my higherself patiently, as if not noticing my confusion.

I thought about the whole thing again, and it was right there before my eyes. I had gained so much more than mere material for my research. The most valuable lesson of that lifetime was that nothing is permanent. No loss brings permanent grief, and no wound causes everlasting pain. At any given moment of our physical experience, how we feel inside is our choice regardless of what happens outside.

With that thought I glanced at my guides again and saw them smiling with satisfaction. I couldn’t help smiling too. I nodded at them as I turned towards the library to continue my research about Neanderthals, making a mental note to express my concerns to the council about the other species I had encountered. Someone needed to do a profound research on them before their descendants could achieve technological power. Any civilization containing the violence that those “Long Ones” were capable of would be doomed. The thought made shudder. “Ah let it go for now,” I thought to myself, “you’ve had enough worrying for ten lifetimes.”

The Mesopotamian merchant

Southern Mesopotamia, around 5800 B.C.: I was a wealthy merchant, and I had a relatively comfortable life. I had a lot of gold, a big house and a garden where I kept my camels.

Although it was not costmary in our land for a man to have more than one wife, I had six. It started when my first wife and I were waiting for children to come, and they never did. Gradually I became worried and started seeking for a solution, and there was only one that I could think of. My situation was one of the few that grant a Mesopotamian man the permission to take a second wife. So that was what I did. But children still didn’t come. So I married for the third time, and this time I chose a younger bride. Again, nothing happened. 

It was only after a year or two that I found myself with five wives and no children. I was frustrated. All my efforts had been fruitless. Now all people in the city had heard my story and were whispering behind my back; that I was being subjected to the Gods’ wrath, that I was cursed. Even though their words wounded me, I could not but agree with them. Why else was I being subjected to such humiliation? 

After sometimethe gossips changed. Now people said that any woman that set foot in my house would have her fertility dried out of her forevere as it had become Gods’ wrathful wish to punish me and all those around me for refusing to accept my fate as a childless man. As a result there came a time that no man in the city had desire to speak to me in the fear that I would ask for their daughter’s hand. None of them wished to risk having that conversation as they did not want their daughters to be subjected to such fate. But as they say, nothing remains the same forever, and my life was no exception

It was in the winter of the third year after I had married my fifth wife, when I hired a new, young camel keeper. He was not like any other man who had ever worked for me. He was strong and fast in his job, and soon my camels were in the best shape that they had ever been in, and they could go long distances in a shorter period of time. But the young camel keeper seemed different in other ways as well. He was clever and funny, but also impudent and audacious. Sometimes I would catch him hobnobbing with my wives and making them laugh, though they would fall silent abruptly as they realized I was there. But I did not pay much attention to that since now as a result of his good work my trading was improved and my wealth had expanded. My joy was completed as I realized two of my wives were pregnant. By the summer I had my first child; a girl, and soon after that I had my first son. Finally Gods had decided that I had been punished enough, and since I had never stopped praising them, they were now rewarding me. Once I discovered that there was another one in the way I was beside myself with joy. Soon I was the happiest man in the whole Mesopotamia, and I got my good name back too. The euphoria of having my life changed in such a short time made me a generous man. Whenever someone needed help I was there. I fed and clothed orphans and widows and gave as many jobs as I could to those with no land and no food. Soon everyone in the city knew me in a different way. People would tell my story to their children to teach them a life lesson. They would say things like, “…so if you praise the Gods even after years of enduring their wraths some day you will be rewarded with such happiness no one has ever dreamed of,” and so on.

Years passed, I was older now. Life was good, but now I was bored. I could not bear the dullness of my life, and I knew that the only thing that could bring a new breeze to my stagnant life was a new bride. But I had many children now, so how could I justify taking a new wife? Could my fame and wealth give me a place above the rules that all commoners had to follow? On the one hand I knew I could provide a good life for any woman who would become my wife, but it would be crossing a distinct line to remarry unless there was a good reason, and as I did not have that reason anymore I was not sure that I could cross that line without consequences. But the temptation was strong, and it was amplified whenever I heard someone telling my story as a man who was rewarded by Gods for his good deed and virtue. Once I even heard someone saying that Gods had tested me with years of childlessness and shame just so that I could be rewarded with a big family later, and that was Gods' way to give a lesson to people of Mesopotamia. I wondered if all people thought of me that way, as a vessel for Gods to teach people something. But at the end of the day I realized that I did not really care what people thought of me, or how harshly they might judge me if I marry again.

My sixth wife was as young as my first daughter, and I loved her more than all my other wives together. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had laid eyes on. But it never occurred to me to ask whether she loved me, or that this was the life she wanted to have. Everything was arranged between me and her father, as it was the case in most marriages that occurred in our city. So it never even passed through my mind to stop myself and ask her, and not her father, whether she wanted this and whether she thought she could ever love me. 

Now when I look back I'm not even sure if I loved her myself, because if I really did how come I had never thought of finding out what she really wanted so that I could give it to her? I’m not even sure what it was exactly that I wanted from her. Her body? Her beauty? Her presence? Perhaps I wanted all of those things, but I never thought about how she felt in her heart or what was in her mind. It was as if her presence was enough, just like my other belongings. You don’t expect your house to love you, no matter how comfortable you are in it or how generously you decorate it.

During the days that came after our marriage she would sit beside one of the long windows with a view to the garden, as she would do needlework on a linen shawl that I had bought for her. She did not talk to anyone if she could avoid it, but when she did talk, her voice was soft and her tone respectful. She was everything I could asked for. Even the fact that she was my only wife who never bore a child pleased me. I did not want to share her with any other soul. Besides, I had enough children, so I did not need more. One thing did bother me though. I could feel that even though she was respectful and polite, she was somehow distanced. I would buy her expensive gifts, jewelry, nice robes and shawls. Whenever I saw a nice commodity somewhere I would buy it for her. But none of my many gifts would make any difference, nothing made her warmer and closer toward me, and never did it occur to me to ask her why. I died not knowing the secret of her heart or the thoughts that passed through her mind when she sat by the window or when she was in my bed, silent and obedient. I also died thinking that I was indeed a good man.

It was only after my death that I realized what a selfish, self-righteous asshole I was. I had never considered my wives as complete human beings; they were my belongings. How could it be that it never occurred to me that they could feel and think just as I did? That they were just as valuable and respectable as I considered myself to be? The only thing that I had given them was a comfortable life. I had provided them with good food, nice clothes and jewelry, but my mind had never gone beyond those things. My sixth wife had suffered the most from my stupidity and shortsightedness. I had taken her from her childhood home, possessed her body without asking for her consent, and imprisoned her heart without knowing its desires. I had in fact bought her from her father like I had bought everything else that I owned. That is how she felt every moment she spent in my house, as if she was a piece of furniture, a thing that was brought there and had no way out. I knew now something that I had never realized when I was alive even though it was in front my eyes every day. That I was the one who had shaped her life like that, hours and hours of needlework so that she could avoid me - an old man and owner- as much as she could. I knew those things only after I was on the other side of the veil and it was already too late to do something about them. There was nothing I could do to change any of those things. 

I tried to defend myself against the rush of regret that is experienced more or less by every soul that awakens to the truth, and as it becomes clear how every choice they made in their life affected every other person around them and eventually the whole world. It did not work, instead I felt like an ultimate loser. I had wasted an entire lifetime with blindness and naivety. The thought was eating my soul up. 

Finally I gave up trying to justify my life decisions and decided instead to go back were I had been as a woman and do it as many lifetimes as necessary until I would fully understand what it ws like to live as a woman in such a male oriented society, and that is exactly what I did. I lived in female bodies for a thousand years in Mesopotamia before I decided that I had learned my lesson, and to this day, my soul remembers it as the most challenging cycle of all my 3^rd density experiences. 

Saying goodbye to the blue star

Sirius, about 600 Earth years ago: I’m walking on the beach, enjoying the soft breeze that comes from the sea and touches the side of my face. Suddenly I feel unease as I feel an unwelcome presence near me. At first I think I must have made a mistake, because nobody is around. But when I turn around I realize that a reptilian is behind me, a menacing look in his vertically pupilled yellow eyes as he speeds towards me. I must have heard his footsteps before realizing he was there and that's why I'd become nervous. It is the same species that invaded Lyra back when the Orion Wars started. I was in my first incarnation as a humanoid in the 3^rd density then. I was one of them, one of the invaders. I realize now how hideous we were, how cruel and rootless. I also remember how none of those words made any sense back then. It was only power over others that mattered to us, power and destruction. Recognizing the species that the reptilian belonged to led into another realization; that the being that was pursuing me could have only one purpose: my destruction. I did not waste any time wondering about the reason why, I knew already that there was no reason, it was not needed. If anything, it would be the mere joy of seeing another being fading out of existence. That would be enough. Any other goal would be secondary. I start running, he runs too. I don’t dare to look back, but I hear his footsteps as he chases me. And then he gets close enough for me to hear his breathing. He reaches me, grabs me on the neck and drags me into a cave. He then picks a stone as he pushes me towards a rock. Then he pushes me down so that the side of my head is on the rock. He then smashes my head with the stone. I hear my skull crushing. I’m going to die in this cave, I think to myself. The last thing I see is him taking a flask out of his robes, as he opens it and brings it near to my head. I then realize a silver, foggy substance coming out of my head. It is foggy and ghost-like in nature but it also gives out light, as if smoke and light are mixed together. He then bottles it. With that everything gets dark. Whatever the substance was, with it being gone I lose my sight. I want to scream, but I can’t. Soon I realize the thoughts in my head are getting foggy and start to fade away. A paralyzing horror covers my whole being as I realize what is happening. It was my soul that was crushed out of me. He was taking my soul. In a flask. I hardly can think anymore, I’m losing my memories, the power to think, even my pain. I’m not dying, I’m fading into nothingness. 

I wake up panting and sweating. My life companion is still asleep, but he seems restless as well. I must have disturbed his sleep with my own restlessness. This is happening almost every night now. I know I have to do something. What is the matter with me? Nobody has seen those reptilians for thousands of years, so why suddenly they are appearing in my dreams?

I start the day with headache. When I come home, a message ball is waiting for me on the table. I grab it in my hand and close my eyes as I hear the voice of my companion in my head.

Dearest, I don’t know if you have noticed, but you have been dreaming pretty loudly recently. Forgive me, I did not mean to eavesdrop. But you don’t have much choice when you are suspended in that zone between wakefulness and sleep, as you know. I heard you repeatedly calling out for your soul. What is it about your soul that has troubled you love? Do you think you want to talk about it? It does help sometimes. You also mentioned “Earth” several times. Have you simply being missing Earth? I know it’s been a long time since you have incarnated there. Are you thinking of leaving Sirius? If yes, why haven't you said anything? I hope it is not because you are planning to leave me. Forgive me if I sound as if I'm doubting you, but I’ve been wondering and had to consider multiple cases, and this was one of them, and one that I simply could not ignore. In any case, I think I deserve to know if you are thinking of making a major change in our lives.

I’m taking a walk on the beach, because I want to make sure I’m centered in my heart when we talk, where no fear or ego would interfere. I’ll see you soon.

How could I be so stupid? I’ve been dreaming that my head gets smashed against a rock and my soul stolen and bottled! Of course he would hear my thoughts when I was feeling so vulnerable and exposed. What was I thinking trying to hide it from him? Now he’s thinking I’m going to leave him without even saying a word. This is what I do all the time, and apparently I never learn. I ignore an issue so long that it leads into a bigger problem, and then I just let it grow to the point that it becomes bigger than the life itself. Not this time. I am going to get to the bottom of this. I know what’s wrong, and I know what I have to do.

He’s home. I breath deeply as I walk towards the window were he is waiting for me to join him.

I start with a short apology and then I ask how he could be so stupid thinking that I was going to ghost him. Doesn’t he know me by now, after being together for seven and a half lifetimes? At first I'm consumed by guilt, but after giving that speech I’m genuinely annoyed. How could he have such little faith in me? 
He starts apologizing, looking embarrassed. That brings me back to feeling guilty again. Seriously what's wrong with me? As if putting him through all that torment was not enough. I congratulate myself mentally for being such a lousy companion.

That's enough, I think to myself. Let's fix this right now.

I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him and at the same time I gesture to him to sit down, and then I start talking again, and this time much more calmly.

-All right, let’s put apologies and guilt behind us. I’m not leaving you, in fact, the thought has not even passed through my mind. So that’s that. And as to why I’m having these nightmares, I’ve been thinking and meditating about it, and I’m pretty sure the reason is that I’ve been in my comfort zone for too long. I love Sirius, it has become my home. I don’t ever want to leave it, but if I don’t my soul will be petrified. I’m becoming numb in here, and those dreams are warning me of that. I think the best place for me right now is Earth, as you have heard me saying that in my dreams. Another reason is the events that are going to take place on Earth through the next incarnation cycles. The power struggles and the darkness that is increasing constantly there makes it to be the best soul school in the whole universe. But it is not going to be easy, not in the slightest. And that is exactly why I did not dare to tell you about it. I can’t bear the thought of dragging you there in such troubled times, and it’s only going to get worse.

He's been silent until now, but then he gestures me to stop as he starts talking himself.

- Dragging me? You can't be serious. I'm not a child, so please don’t worry about dragging me anywhere. Besides, I’ve been thinking about Earth myself. And we are not the only ones, many are thinking about going there these days.

That's news to me. My impression was that most people are trying to avoid Earth these days. But I don't care about most people. I care about him.

-But you’re fine; you’re enjoying life here. How can I live with myself changing it for you? I do feel like I’m petrifying, but I don’t see anything that indicates you are feeling the same. It’s not you having nightmares about your skull being crushed and your soul being stolen and bottled! Why should you make such a big change in your life when it is me who is in trouble? I don’t want to change your life when you are enjoying it!

-That’s what you've been dreaming? That’s horrible! Why didn’t you say anything?

-Because it terrified me, I thought it would go away if I just ignored it. I was even afraid that it would be contagious, that you would start having those dreams and feeling your soul petrifying like I do. 

-You’re right about me not feeling like that yet, but it could be because I’m not as sensitive as you are. That’s one of the things I love about being with you, you keep me alert about my soul growth. But it’s not the only reason I want to start a cycle on Earth. I want to participate in the coming changes and events there. I want to play a role in the power struggles and find my way out through the darkness that is going to swallow Earth and its incarnated souls. I don’t think there has been any other place in the history of the universe where anyone could grow as much as it is possible on Erath right now. I don’t want to lose this chance.

-So you think we should go?

-I definitely do.

***

With that, we started planning for our journey. First we had to sign a soul contract with the incarnation department, acknowledging that our departure from Sirius and starting a new incarnation cycle was our own plan. Then we would take care of our belongings, basically giving them to our friends and relatives to use them while we are gone. Then all we had to do was to get out of our bodies and cut the cords. And that’s exactly what we did.

The jolly carpenter

Late mid 18^th century, Italy, Parma: I have a woodwork shop and a relatively good, easy life. I enjoy my work, make good money and use my free time to invent little devices that sometimes work. That doesn’t mean I don’t have any problems though.

It started a few years ago, two, to be more exact. I was in Florence to sell our month’s production when I met her.  She was with her maid, talking to an injured dog trying to calm it. That caught my eyes before even seeing her face and realizing how beautiful she was, which was what happened the next moment when she raised her head and looked right back at me. I fell in love with her in that very moment. Later I discovered that she was the daughter of a rich, ambitious merchant that I knew indirectly through people I had trade with. I also found out that for him, a mere rich son in law was not satisfying, not that I was rich. He wanted a powerful man, one that could take his daughter up the social ladder, and that could one day have a saying in the politics too. Our marriage could never happen, even if I could become as rich as him. That day however I didn't think about any of those things. I just wanted to talk to her, hear her voice, perhaps know her name. I couldn’t stop myself. When she turned her beautiful face and looked at me, I immediately knew she felt a connection as well. Later when we saw each other again she told me that one of her father’s acquaintances has asked for her hand for his son, and that her father has almost given a positive answer, since he was from a noble family and in contact with some influential people. We did meet again secretly though, and if it could be up to me, we would never stop.

We usually take long walks together just outside the city, whenever she can escape with the help of her sympathizing maid. One day as we walk hand in hand and both deep in thoughts she asks, “how come we never seem to have much to discuss when we are together, yet the silence never bothers us as it does other people?”

I think about it for a long moment. Then I say what I'm already feeling but has never come to the surface of my thoughts.

“Because when we are together our souls are home, where our thoughts are transparent and words not necessary,” I say.

I’m not being completely honest though. There is something we would talk about if we could bear talking about it: the issue of her soon being taken away from me by an arranged marriage none of us has a saying in, and the fact that we might never see each other after that. Even the thought of asking to see her after she gets married is unreasonable and selfish, I think to myself. I could not put her in such danger, not that she wasn’t already taking risks walking with me. Nevertheless the thought of having to stop seeing her lovely face, never hearing her voice or feeling her hands in mine rips my heart inside my chest. I try to hide the painful thought from appearing in my face as much as I can, but she can tell what is killing me inside despite the smile. The facade would work with other people, but she knows me too well. It makes her sad, more than she usually is these days. I can feel her sadness through the skin of her hand in mine; a wave of silent coldness and numbness that flows into my skin. It immediately makes me feel guilty, so I try to distract her with a passionate kiss. It works for a few seconds, and then I lose her again as she slips into the fogs of thoughts and sorrow.

As the day of her marriage approaches, I become more and more depressed and distracted. I don't feel like working, and I suddenly come to present moment discovering that someone has been talking to me for a while and I haven't understood a word of it. 
Today I am riding towards Florence again for the month's trade. I am with my favorite horse, and we are going through the familiar road we have riden through a thousand times. So when I slip into my thoughts and start daydreaming I'm counting on the familiarity of the way for both of us to keep us safe.

I'm thrown out of my thoughts when I hear my horse's agonizing howl. I'm still confused and half in my thoughts when I get off the carriage. When I see my horse twisting his neck in pain and breathing fast and hard I realize what has happened. He has broken his leg, having it stuck in a pit. I know what I have to do. All those years I had my pistol with me and I almost never had to use it. Never did I guess one day I am going to use it to kill my favorite horse. Until this very moment I had never realized how depended I have become to that horse. Not just for the work, but emotionally. When I finally gather my will and do what I had to do, I sit there and break into tears. I weep for losing who and whatever I loved to death or another man, for not being able to save myself from the wretched fate of the powerless man. I think about my worthless, meaningless life, and I want to end it right there. The only thing that keeps me from using the pistol again and for the last time is the hope of seeing her again, loving her somehow if not like a husband. 

In the days that came after that, I did not remember the journey back home. I had to walk all the way back to Parma, so it was lucky that the accident happened shortly after we had exited the town. I had to leave everything on the road, including the work of a whole month. The coming months would be that of hard work to compensate for the loss. I did not worry on that.Work and money were never a problem; everything would always work out somehow. If only the same could be said when it comes to the ache of the heart…

***

My death is smooth, almost like my life. At first I didn’t even notice it, until I saw myself lying there. As always, I'm taken aback by how hideous I looked. Mirrors never do the job, and somehow I know that not even the ones they will make in the coming centuries would work as well as well the after-death sight. Or perhaps it is our earthly eyes that see only what our mind wants to see.

“You know, when I said I didn’t want to get married or have children, falling in love with someone who then gets married to someone else and has his children was not exactly what I had in mind,” is the first thing I say after I realize I'm dead.

“I know, but in a deeper level, you wanted to experience that kind of separation,” chuckles my higherself.

“I still feel I was tricked. I wanted to avoid emotional pain in this lifetime, yet I lost my favorite horse and what’s worse, I had to kill it myself.” I say, trying to put my hands on my hips, which turns my dramatic gesture into a comical one since my hands go through my transparent hips.

“Come on, think about it. You wanted some kind of challenge. You didn’t want to waste a whole lifetime just having fun. This is an intense cycle, remember?”

I remember. But I still want to argue.

“Fine. But next time, no pets or any kind of animals near me.”

“Deal.”

“And how you’re going to arrange that?”

“You’ll be reminded you don’t want pets. Let me see… Yes. When you’re five you accidentally choke the chickens your aunt buys for you, trying to give them a bath when she is taking a napp. Then you decide ‘no pets for me.’” 

"You would let a child go through such guilt? Seriously?" I say incredulously.

"I'll remind you in your dreams that you were just trying to do them a favor, since it was a hot summer day and you thought they would like a bath," argues higherself patiently.  

I don't get into an argument about having a longer rest this time, since I know it’s not going to happen. I have to dive in again before the end of 20^th century otherwise I’m going to miss the big events and shifts that would help me with my spiritual growth, if I’m lucky that is. It’s never easy to find the right body and the right family at the right place and right time, and as it is bodies are in high demand. There are many souls who have come to earth and are waiting in long queues for the unique learning opportunities that Earth is going to provide in the coming centuries. Though I have a feeling I’ll be one of those lucky souls.