We all know that the packaging doesn’t say everything. We all know, but people seldom look beneath it, anyway. Once you get to know me, it’s easy to put me in a box marked "Cute, but kinda crazy," and forget about it. Don’t talk about the meat and bone. Don’t think about the shell as simple wrappings which, when shed, means ultimately nothing.
It’s all a dream, anyway… some day you’ll wake up, and this life you’re dreaming won’t really mean anything, no matter what you are, underneath.
Which matters more? The shell that you don and shed, draw on and cast off, like the clothes you wore yesterday? The shell that you wear, wash, recycle, or the thing the meat and bone disguises?
Just because it looks sweet, doesn’t mean it will be.
There are two kinds of other-kin, did you know? Those by blood, and those by soul.
I happen to be both.
Look at the oldest myths and legends. We all know that at the heart of the story there hides a kernel of truth – and all those myths tell the story of a race of magickal creatures – call them angels or demons, call them faeries, nature spirits, or daemons, call them Lemurians or Atlantians, or whatever you’d like, but remember they were Powers, and for whatever reason, they bred with what passed for humans way back when, and thus imbued what would become the human race with some of their much-vaunted gifts, and created by this interbreeding a new species. The psychic man.
So now you have generations of the mixing of gifts and bloodlines, the constant loss and gain of powers – some that breed true, some that breed out, some that skip around the genetic pool like frogs hopping in the rain, but all ultimately creating in some poor schmucks some pretty crazy results, and warping perceived non-reality all over the place.
Thanks. I just love the results. Couldn’t you have just given us something less dangerous and sanity-destroying, like faster-growing toenails?
And then, there’s that which for lack of a better word we call soul.
Did you think that this was the only planet with life? The only planet with souls? Did you think that this was the only dimension, the only reality? Or were you open-minded enough to recognize that there are billions of planets in this dimension alone, and untold numbers of dimensions, where other creatures who also possess soul, or are purely soul with no form, might exist?
Did you think that, if reincarnation exists, perhaps not every soul is reborn to the race it was first engendered by? Did you wonder if you were really just a human – never mind the fact that even humans aren’t all really human, thanks to a genetic drama that’s been going on for hundreds of thousands of years?
It’s something to think about, any way.
And which am I? Which are you? Are you really human from the bones out? If you’ve any gift of perception, probably not.
And what shape does your soul really take?
Are you other-kin, like me? By blood, by soul, by both?
We always know our own kind, you know. One look and I would know if you were just a human, just a dead head, or if you were something else… something more.
Not better, no… not better, but different.
And would you be OK with that?
Just because it looks sweet, doesn’t mean it is. When I discovered I was living the lie (inhuman, non-human), I have to admit… I didn’t cope very well with the information. I went a little nuts. I warped reality a dozen different ways, and not all of them good.
And then, one day, I woke up. I told myself, it doesn’t matter what you were, it matters what you are. This life is the important one. And in this life, I’m wearing a human suit.
Call me what you will – one label works as well as another. Call me demon, call me angel, call me faerie, call me succubus, call me feline, call me human, and I’ll tell you that you’re right. It’s all the same.
But do you really want to know? Will the shifting sands of reality drag you under? Will you drown in the knowledge that you’re not like the others, or that you’re nothing special at all? What will you feel, when you know?
Chances are, you already know. You know us when you see us. You know either that here stands something different, the other, the hated, or you know that here stands one just like you… and either way, the knowledge gives you no peace, no joy.
Some day, like me, the information will just be. It won’t matter anymore. It’ll just be another piece of you, a part of the whole image, but nothing special that you think about.
Some day… if you don’t look too closely.
But probably not today.