The old woman sat in her rocking chair with a look of indifference on her face. No longer was life and death a fascination for her, for she had lived and died with a keen memory of it for all eternity. I asked her what it was like to witness many lifetimes. She looked at me with her sad eyes and spoke with an emotionless voice.
“No longer is life and death a mystery for me. I can’t be fascinated by the revelations of life in my infancy. I already know what my hands and feet are used for and what all the sounds are. The chronicles of time can’t reveal its secrets, because the future had already presented itself in past lives. It is within these secrets that enthusiasm is born and kept alive.
After my death and before my birth I was totally dependent on God. Since I was reborn, I have become gradually more independent and less mindful of his control over me. I had to prepare myself to live in this new world of mine, detached from his guidance. When I can feel those familiar white wings of death enfolding me, I know that I will be home with my creator, and my life will turn over to him again. Prophets write about it, but do not give us the sensitivity to feel it.
I also miss witnessing the wonderment of life and death; life’s most profound moments that touch the soul and leave a lasting impression. I have felt it too many times for it to be a fascination. The unknown future reveals itself through a new exotic sensation that stimulates the passion, but that feeling escaped from me throughout my many lives. I envy you for your curiosity and zeal.
I find myself not between life and death, because I have none. I just keep on living, knowing that death will not let me begin my fresh maturation process again. I live somewhere between life and life, familiarity and déjà vu.”
Then she went silent and just stared at the floor. I left her with a feeling of compassion for her, but also relief, knowing that my future is mysterious and I still have a lust for life. Thank God.