The Life Tree Chapter 3
Chapter 3
The Life Tree
I heard a voice. Audibly. Not sure how without ears, but I definitely heard a voice. I try to reach out telepathically again, asking for help. There’s a sense of excitement, the first real emotion I’ve felt since I’ve been here for I’m not sure how long. Could be weeks or years for all I know. The voice is now silenced as my telepathic vocal chords are now strained to their own silence. I was never heard. I had never made a sound.
There are clouds rolling in. Fast and rolling, they move through a lowered sky indicating a storm coming on. There’s no weatherman that could deny the treachery this storm could bring for the sky is getting darker by the millisecond. Thunder rolls on top of the clouds pushing them and spreading them across the sky. Lightning strikes and hits a tree off in the distance. The land is no longer rolling hills but a soaked valley with pools of water creating mud with each step.
The struck tree stands strong against the lightning showing no indication of damage. If this is the tree of life I sat by earlier, I cannot tell through the thick rain that is falling. I can see, however, a figure standing just below the tree. No gender could be placed on the figure as I’m shielding my eyes from the rain. No use, the rain is too thick and now blows horizontally with the wind directly into my face.
I shudder with the wind as it blows through me. I’m back in my sanctuary. That was definitely not my happy place. What purpose could these memories serve? Are these even my memories? I have the feeling of déjà vu with each one, as if I’ve lived through these scenarios. What purpose through an afterlife could any of this bring?
Is the purpose to be comfortable with our previous life choices? To live within our own skin and memories forever? Is there to be no forgiveness for any sins? Again, without the religion here, I wonder what will truly happen if anything at all. There are no signs of religion at all; no priest to hear my sins, no God to push open the pearly gates, nor a devil to welcome me with a pitchfork. All of this seems so meaningless.
I’m sure by now you are wondering when I mention the nothingness that I feel. I recall the movie when Clarence is talking amongst the cosmic angels before he meets Jimmy Stewart. That’s how this feels. I cannot move, nor hear, nor see, nor feel anything unless it occurs in my mind’s eye. This is all so frustrating, frustrating as hell. All of these scenes battled out in my mind are the only thing I can do to keep myself from going insane. Or is it that I already have gone insane. Only time, infinite time, will tell.
I’m riding a motorcycle, which is odd because I’ve never been on a bike in all my life aside from my bicycle as a child. The wind is forcefully strong and it isn’t open road I’m riding on, it’s open desert with sand whipping past my fat Harley tires, spreading to either side of the bike, spraying my boots. The sun is hot and low, meaning dusk and a moon rise will soon occur. I wear no helmet and my hair tousles across my face with each leaned turn I make. As amazing as all this is I’ve already learned through the amount of time I’ve spent here that this fantasy won’t last either. It’s a figment and I’m unsure if it is my imagination this comes from, especially since in life, I never learned to ride.
There is a tree off in the distant desert, and fruitful as I wish it were, it is bare and dry. I race towards it on my motorcycle and it never seems to get any closer. I wring the handle hoping to gain more speed towards the tree, but it stays the distance no matter how many miles per hour I choose to travel. It’s mocking me, not allowing me to get any closer. I slam the brake, twisting the bike, making dust clouds form around me. They clear and my vision sees the tree still the same distance away, dry and untouchable.
The daydream ends and I’m back in the cosmic air where I have no senses. Only this time, I feel firmness around my ankles! This may be the most exciting thing to happen since the voice I heard and yet I’m restricted. The firmness feels like two hands wrapped around my ankles keeping them firm and stiff, never letting go.
The excitement is released when I realize that the firmness in my ankles is all I can feel. I still cannot sense the rest of my body, nor can I see or hear anything. But I did hear that voice, or at least I thought I did. It doesn’t take long before the stiffness in my ankles begins to hurt and then the rush of pain. I cannot move them at all, nor can I feel anything in my toes and feet. I move back into my mind’s thoughts. At least there is some normality there.
I need to hear something, I think to myself. I need to hear something so that I know I haven’t become a deaf mute in a cruel world filled with suffering. I hear a creaking sound in my mind. I’m in an attic and sure enough it’s made of old wooden beams where even the floorboards seem half eaten by termites. The creaking was my step on the beaten floor as I make my way slowly through the attic. Each board says hello as the sun glimmers through the circular window on the far wall. There is a warm beam of light that crosses my leg when I walk through it. It feels wonderful. It’s wonderful to feel! The attic, as any attic would be, is covered in cobwebs and I do not mind brushing them aside while I make my way through the piles of olden junk and garage sale remnants. I’m quite delighted to do so actually for two reasons: first, it means that I am actually moving, and two, I have an old soul and being around these types of things brings me joy and comfort.
Off in the corner sits a small trunk and it grabs my attention immediately. Cliché as it seems to spot an old trunk in an old attic, but until one actually finds themselves in this predicament, do they know the curiosity it brings. I step quicker towards it, my creaking footsteps now making hard knocking sounds. Again, it becomes unreachable like the tree in the desert. The more I walk, the more the trunk stays the same distance away from me. Terribly frustrating as tunnel vision sets in and I realize I cannot reach it no matter how hard I try. I turn around to sit on an old wooden chair when something bumps me in the head. It’s the head of a noose swinging from a beam above. I don’t recall seeing it when I came in, but it bumped me all the same, just making the presence known. I sit down on the wooden chair and stare up at it.
Am I sitting in the chair the poor chap used to kick away and do himself in? I didn’t care. I’ve never seen a real noose before and studied the intricate weaving of it. Fascinated, until I find myself in pain around the ankles again, this time much worse. My feet are planted still with no means of moving them. I feel the stiffness extending now into my toes and there is a cooling sensation. I’m not sure if they have gone numb with pins and needles or are awakening with blood flow. At this point, I don’t really think it matters because this afterlife is seemingly meaningless.
I push out the thoughts of my ankles and now my feet and wonder if this is what it feels like for everyone at this stage of afterlife no matter their age or gender.
https://www.amazon.com/Nicholas-McGir...
The Life Tree
I heard a voice. Audibly. Not sure how without ears, but I definitely heard a voice. I try to reach out telepathically again, asking for help. There’s a sense of excitement, the first real emotion I’ve felt since I’ve been here for I’m not sure how long. Could be weeks or years for all I know. The voice is now silenced as my telepathic vocal chords are now strained to their own silence. I was never heard. I had never made a sound.
There are clouds rolling in. Fast and rolling, they move through a lowered sky indicating a storm coming on. There’s no weatherman that could deny the treachery this storm could bring for the sky is getting darker by the millisecond. Thunder rolls on top of the clouds pushing them and spreading them across the sky. Lightning strikes and hits a tree off in the distance. The land is no longer rolling hills but a soaked valley with pools of water creating mud with each step.
The struck tree stands strong against the lightning showing no indication of damage. If this is the tree of life I sat by earlier, I cannot tell through the thick rain that is falling. I can see, however, a figure standing just below the tree. No gender could be placed on the figure as I’m shielding my eyes from the rain. No use, the rain is too thick and now blows horizontally with the wind directly into my face.
I shudder with the wind as it blows through me. I’m back in my sanctuary. That was definitely not my happy place. What purpose could these memories serve? Are these even my memories? I have the feeling of déjà vu with each one, as if I’ve lived through these scenarios. What purpose through an afterlife could any of this bring?
Is the purpose to be comfortable with our previous life choices? To live within our own skin and memories forever? Is there to be no forgiveness for any sins? Again, without the religion here, I wonder what will truly happen if anything at all. There are no signs of religion at all; no priest to hear my sins, no God to push open the pearly gates, nor a devil to welcome me with a pitchfork. All of this seems so meaningless.
I’m sure by now you are wondering when I mention the nothingness that I feel. I recall the movie when Clarence is talking amongst the cosmic angels before he meets Jimmy Stewart. That’s how this feels. I cannot move, nor hear, nor see, nor feel anything unless it occurs in my mind’s eye. This is all so frustrating, frustrating as hell. All of these scenes battled out in my mind are the only thing I can do to keep myself from going insane. Or is it that I already have gone insane. Only time, infinite time, will tell.
I’m riding a motorcycle, which is odd because I’ve never been on a bike in all my life aside from my bicycle as a child. The wind is forcefully strong and it isn’t open road I’m riding on, it’s open desert with sand whipping past my fat Harley tires, spreading to either side of the bike, spraying my boots. The sun is hot and low, meaning dusk and a moon rise will soon occur. I wear no helmet and my hair tousles across my face with each leaned turn I make. As amazing as all this is I’ve already learned through the amount of time I’ve spent here that this fantasy won’t last either. It’s a figment and I’m unsure if it is my imagination this comes from, especially since in life, I never learned to ride.
There is a tree off in the distant desert, and fruitful as I wish it were, it is bare and dry. I race towards it on my motorcycle and it never seems to get any closer. I wring the handle hoping to gain more speed towards the tree, but it stays the distance no matter how many miles per hour I choose to travel. It’s mocking me, not allowing me to get any closer. I slam the brake, twisting the bike, making dust clouds form around me. They clear and my vision sees the tree still the same distance away, dry and untouchable.
The daydream ends and I’m back in the cosmic air where I have no senses. Only this time, I feel firmness around my ankles! This may be the most exciting thing to happen since the voice I heard and yet I’m restricted. The firmness feels like two hands wrapped around my ankles keeping them firm and stiff, never letting go.
The excitement is released when I realize that the firmness in my ankles is all I can feel. I still cannot sense the rest of my body, nor can I see or hear anything. But I did hear that voice, or at least I thought I did. It doesn’t take long before the stiffness in my ankles begins to hurt and then the rush of pain. I cannot move them at all, nor can I feel anything in my toes and feet. I move back into my mind’s thoughts. At least there is some normality there.
I need to hear something, I think to myself. I need to hear something so that I know I haven’t become a deaf mute in a cruel world filled with suffering. I hear a creaking sound in my mind. I’m in an attic and sure enough it’s made of old wooden beams where even the floorboards seem half eaten by termites. The creaking was my step on the beaten floor as I make my way slowly through the attic. Each board says hello as the sun glimmers through the circular window on the far wall. There is a warm beam of light that crosses my leg when I walk through it. It feels wonderful. It’s wonderful to feel! The attic, as any attic would be, is covered in cobwebs and I do not mind brushing them aside while I make my way through the piles of olden junk and garage sale remnants. I’m quite delighted to do so actually for two reasons: first, it means that I am actually moving, and two, I have an old soul and being around these types of things brings me joy and comfort.
Off in the corner sits a small trunk and it grabs my attention immediately. Cliché as it seems to spot an old trunk in an old attic, but until one actually finds themselves in this predicament, do they know the curiosity it brings. I step quicker towards it, my creaking footsteps now making hard knocking sounds. Again, it becomes unreachable like the tree in the desert. The more I walk, the more the trunk stays the same distance away from me. Terribly frustrating as tunnel vision sets in and I realize I cannot reach it no matter how hard I try. I turn around to sit on an old wooden chair when something bumps me in the head. It’s the head of a noose swinging from a beam above. I don’t recall seeing it when I came in, but it bumped me all the same, just making the presence known. I sit down on the wooden chair and stare up at it.
Am I sitting in the chair the poor chap used to kick away and do himself in? I didn’t care. I’ve never seen a real noose before and studied the intricate weaving of it. Fascinated, until I find myself in pain around the ankles again, this time much worse. My feet are planted still with no means of moving them. I feel the stiffness extending now into my toes and there is a cooling sensation. I’m not sure if they have gone numb with pins and needles or are awakening with blood flow. At this point, I don’t really think it matters because this afterlife is seemingly meaningless.
I push out the thoughts of my ankles and now my feet and wonder if this is what it feels like for everyone at this stage of afterlife no matter their age or gender.
https://www.amazon.com/Nicholas-McGir...
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