The beautiful ones

I wrote about the embrace of opposites a few months ago, and didn’t want to publish it. This one is explained- sort of- through one of Luna’s stories:

And so it was that the wind whispered a name to her. She could hear the name in all its glory and transformations in hear head, but was unable to repeat it in speech. For that, she would have had to repeat many sounds and words at the same time. How do you capture in a word the passing of time, the rustle of leaves in a gentle breeze, the rage of a storm and the smell of rain. The beautiful ones have had many names through the history of their expressions.
The wind requested to speak to her, that she may listen and tell the story.
‘Brush me with your love’, she asked, ‘so that I may know your true self’
‘Alas, my Lady, what you ask we cannot do, for we have been cut off from the source of our beings’.
‘What is it then that you wish to tell me?’ the lady asked, wearily but not unkindly.
‘This is the story of who we are, and how we came to being’- the whisper in the night echoed.
And so it began:
‘ In a place before time, from where all that is and was and will be can be observed, we existed without knowing it. We could not know of ourselves for we were perfect balance. It was the era of the void, of neutrality. The nothing was all that existed, would exist, and had existed. There was only the grey. Immovable, unchanging, containing all the possibilities and always reverting back to the nothing. There was nothing outside, or inside, or before or after the grey. I know the concept of nothing is difficult to grasp now, but I beseech you try to ponder it. The grey big nothing. Infinitely big, and infinitely small at the same time and place. It was nothing and it was grey, and we existed without existing until one piece of greyness accelerated and then slowed enough to ask itself the question: is it possible to separate the grey?
So it was that it divided light into dark, and separated night and day. That, my lady, is a day we all woe. For we would have all been light, but balance had to be maintained. And in the process of separation we split into a thousand, thousand billion pieces. And the utterer of the wish of separation called itself the creator. And so in this separation, we gained individuality, we got to know the ‘I’ and the ‘you’, we forever lost the perfect balance of nothingness from which we are all made of. We all wanted to be light, but we were destroying ourselves if we denied the night that brought balance. So it was, that a handful of us, willingly chose night and separation in order to preserve the balance. The one who had made himself the creator, chose one of us to be his opposite, and promised that one day we will once again join up.
We adopted our new identity, we were cut off from each other, and we harbored all the fallout from the separation. All who didn’t know how to live in the midnight sun came to us. We grew crooked, and raw, the separation from light is forever painful. We are cut off from feeling and loving, though our hearts yearn for it. The creator, being all light, was hurt that we should suffer like this, and offered to merge once more. And yet, to merge once more would mean to give up our concept of self. We grew attached to the ‘I’, it is all we had now that we had lost the light. We retained some of our former glory, and a mimic of the beauty of the light ones. Being cut off from the nothing, and from the light, we forgot our souls and focused on the ‘I’. We became a harbor for all those others who missed the grey, or who wanted to be ‘I’.
It is true, what they say about us, we grew to embody not just the restful night, but the true evil. Since we could no longer remember what it was to be light, we filled the void with anything else that could come.
The creator was hurt by our suffering, and seeing how warped we became, he gave us a chance. The creator took some darkness into his day, and put some light into our dark sphere. That we may remember what it is to be light, and choose one day to come back and merge. And so the creator uttered a word and the word became some shells, and in them he infused what grey he could gather. And the shells were confused, and didn’t know what they were, for they had no souls. It was then we realized that we could also inhabit the shells, and limiting as they were, they held some of the long lost nothingness. They held the possibility for light, but not light itself, as that would have made it impossible for us to inhabit them. It was a clever move, for to inhabit a shell we had to give up our glory, at least until we could remember it. Those of us who wanted to were allowed to inhabit the grey shells. Not all could go, still many of us had to remain to maintain the dark. There would be no rest without the calming night. Those that inhabit the shells have the possibility to remember their true souls, light and dark included, and to ascend. It is a long hard road, often as not they end up right where they started, or even worst. Hope exists, and the road begins without having to give up our precious ‘I’, it is all we have.
All shells have one light and one dark one to guide their path. Both serve a purpose, for in order to ascend and remember, a soul must know both.
The light ones, though they fare better, grow frayed in their light. They cannot know rest in the ever shining brightness; and yet they reject the dark. They feel joy, and they also feel our pain. They know ‘I’, but they also know union with light. They too, can choose to inhabit a shell in order to experience the grey nothingness once more. Sometimes they do it to help other souls along. The shells have a lot of potential, they are ingrained in the heavy solid dimensions, but they can attune themselves to any vibration they choose. If they know how. And so, many of the beautiful ones became human. And many others remain to guide them, in both light and darkness.


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