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The present reformed itself around me as I came out of the last dregs of the vision of Time.
*Sigh* With a long indrawn breath, I let it out in a sense of unburdening myself of many of the things I had recalled on my trip through memory lane.
Most of those memories were meant to be just that, memories. They had their value, as they certainly helped to reaffirm my determination to achieve the strongest and most well-rounded elemental assimilation I could. This would aid me greatly in my learning here, while subsequently supporting my actions in reality.
This place, this virtual reality, was like a library of relevant knowledge combined with a playground in which to test out the newfound knowledge. Such personally applied skills and understanding were able to cross platforms to affect my studies and quality of life on Earth.
I planned to utilize such opportunities to the utmost of my ability.
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It appeared that next up was the life stone.
Recalling the sensations I felt when peering at its uniqueness within the special box, a large part of me yearned to reach out to that feeling of new life and Christmas and other close familial holidays. I felt such would be a solace to my freshly wounded and re-burdened heart.
“Are you ready for the next one?” Gertrude’s voice called out from behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Yes!” I replied with certainty.
Nodding her head at my assurance, she began concocting the life stone potion.
As I waited, I pondered over the few theories I had regarding life. I was uncertain as to the extent of what it would mean as a concept. Again, recalling the feelings stimulated by the stone of life, the energies it put off felt like a combination of the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year celebrations of my childhood. Those holidays appeared to celebrate new life, our current life, and the renewal of such. Yet there was something more to it.
Despite the heartwarming moments and memories such occasions instilled within me, an echo of pain reverberated within the walls of those scenes. Memories of my sister as she centered as part of those joyful occasions clouded the imagery. Yet such pain seemed to be embraced as well within that stone; Like a precarious fragility that such beauty, hope, and promise could so easily be snuffed out, before it truly had an opportunity to live.
A thought came to my mind of some things I’d seen before on the news. Before WWIII and even after, there were groups which would argue about when an individual’s life became valuable or worth saving. Some would argue for the ending of a budding life, in order to save it or themselves from a perceived life of misery, lacking in love, or inconvenience.
I could see and understand much of their point of view, as some children can be born with painfully debilitating deformities, both physically and mentally. I’d witnessed vicariously some individuals who were ill equipped to handle the burden of such a child that they brought into life.
Some took the offered route of entrusting their child into the loving arms and care of another, who was better able and willing to handle the burden. Others refused such offers and chose to either cut short the growth of that new life, or shoulder the burden for themselves, not willing to part with that which they had a deep investment in creating.
For those who chose to shoulder the burden and opportunity, there were instances of both success and failure as they sought to rise above the trials of their life. Too often, the child was hurt either way as their mother and/or father learned difficult and painful lessons, as they gathered their deeply hidden strength in order to do better by this new bundle of life. Did these children consider such life to be worth it?
It was impossible for me to mentally place myself in such an individual’s place, as I in my own life, had never experienced such long lasting ill traits or a troubled upbringing.
An image of my sister flashed through my mind though. Her clean-shaven yet seemingly peacefully sleeping head provided a sharp contrast to the remainder of her body. Separated by two metal collars which connected to the many tubes of life preserving solutions, her lower body was a horrifying scene of diseased and writhing flesh. I wish I could know for sure if she was in pain or if she was even actively aware of her current situation.
If she were given the choice of returning to consciousness, yet not be free of her illness, would she choose to live on with hope that things would get better eventually, or would she consider the future dismal hope, to not be worth the current pain and debilitation?
Unfortunately, she could not speak, and I had not the ability nor the right to speak for her. . .
Others would argue that such pre-emptive action against one such as her who was in suspended limbo, was a moral abomination and a sin in the sight of an all-powerful and all-knowing overseer or creator, mainly God. They felt that life, in particular those capable of sentience was precious and should be preserved where able, regardless of the cost.
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I did not actively participate in either side of the argument as I preferred to keep my peace and stand silently by my own ethical and moral standards. Maybe I was wrong to silently do such, but too often it felt like arguing against those heavily set in their ways on either side of the issue, was like punching into a ball of cotton. You could expend great effort in trying to convince them, but they would bounce back into the same shape and with the same deep-seated conviction as before.
Many on both sides appeared quite maniacal in their passions, as they would scream about body rights, obscenities, and various statistics, or relentlessly quote religious scripture and other sources to justify their actions and stance. In truth, no one appeared to have an answer that would satisfy the other party unless it meant giving into their argument.
Something I was certain about was that I wouldn’t want either extremist group, to raise a child of mine based on how fanatical they appeared to be. Thankfully I didn’t have to consider such, as I had not fathered a child by this point in my life, nor did I intend to be reliant upon their services in the first place for future child care. I had honestly considered, were I in a position to accommodate such, home schooling any future children of mine.
It is always going to be difficult, if not impossible to raise any child without any bias. My greatest hope, however, is to instill within them an open willingness to hear all aspects of an argument or debate, and to not be adversely swayed by fervently spoken words or questionable statistics.
I would hope to prepare them for withstanding indoctrination by those with a chip on their shoulder, through always questioning with an open mind, and willing to engage in respectful discourse.
Only when one's ideals are tempered through the flame of adversity and open dialogue, can they build a firm foundation on which to stand.
I didn’t have time to continue pursuing those thoughts before Gertrude had brought the finished product of the Life potion to me. Again, I thanked her. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself before consuming the liquid which glittered with warmth and hope.
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As it settled within my stomach, just like it promised, I felt a comforting fuzziness envelop me. This warmth strangely had a fair amount in common with that of the fire elemental stones. However, instead of fire that seared you with heat and physical pain, I was seared with an overabundance of life!
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Previous to this, I would never have thought that an individual could have too much life. It was incredibly difficult to articulate the sensation. . .
The closest I could come to explaining was that it was like having the stars in the heavens trying to reach downward to draw your attention to their significance. Objects of great power and potential were forcing me to acknowledge their existence when they would normally simply be a beautiful sight to occasionally glance at. The light, heat, and promise that each held was a seed or spark that tried to grow within me to the exclusion of all else.
Fear of losing my identity amidst their struggle flashed through me. I didn’t have room within myself to accommodate them, and thus reflexively pushed back.
I was afraid that this elemental trial involved a battle of wills for survival. Their many smaller sparks or flames appeared as an opposition to overcome.
My own flame was like that of a raging bonfire, reflective of an established adult in the early prime of their life.
As I focused more on my opponents though, I noticed something was off. Despite their potent origins, their present existences were like flickering candles on the verge of being snuffed out. Like innocents who had not had the opportunity to become tempered by the vicissitudes of life.
My heart hurt as I saw a few shrink and die in the competition for supremacy. I could feel the silent cries of loss at their death.
A stab of pain and sorrow swept through me upon each loss, inflicting terrible quakes within my heart as I realized these were the lives of newly born children, fighting as only they knew how for their place in the world. My reflexive efforts to resist their pressure came to an abrupt halt. I was lost amidst indecision despite their continued, yet ineffective endeavors to press against me. I had to reconsider my thoughts and actions. . . Was there another way?
Was there a way to expand my world in order to accommodate theirs within it, or reduce the area of fuel or sustenance which I drew upon, to allow room and support to aid and sustain them?
I set about trying to do just that. Expanding my borders and finding more resources by which to accommodate their needs, it took a lot of effort on my part, and my efforts bore fruits as my space did expand.
As a result, it was satisfying to see those which had survived the wait regaining some of their lost luster.
Still, it was not enough. There was only so much distance I could push into the world around me before encroaching upon impossibly hostile territory. I felt so very alone and under-prepared as I struggled with the burden of sustaining the lives of these young flames.
Imposed with limitations outside of my control, I could only see one other avenue with which to try. I felt that I had to withdraw some of myself, in order to more fully accommodate their needs.
Immaterial dreams which I pursued halfheartedly were curtailed, many of my time-wasting hobbies were removed, and other ‘fat’ which clogged up a more productive life was trimmed away. . . But that was still not enough. Many of my tightly held passions were also lost amidst the desperate shuffle to make room.
It deeply hurt me to lose those dreams which had seemed so promising. A flash of anger and resentment lashed out at my surroundings before I could stop it. Several flames trembled as if in agony as they bore my blow. Regret and shame then pierced me as I redoubled my efforts to comfort and make room for those remaining bundles of life and heat. They weren’t at fault for my own shortcomings as they had not the agency nor thought to choose whether they existed or not. They simply were. . .
I knew all of this was only taking place within my mind, a vivid dream of sorts. Yet I felt as if I had a visceral understanding of what it meant.
To me, a sense of sacrifice and increased effort was necessary to aid in the sustaining of a new and fragile life. The support and nurturing of children often requires giving up on or delaying some personal dreams and excesses that may have been possible before their arrival. From what I’ve heard of my own parents and others with a positive thinking mindset, the sacrifices were worth it.
Enveloped within the vision still, I was able to see how my fire aided in the growth of theirs, how they were each able to slowly find resources and establish a domain of their own, despite the adversity. Looking deeply into their flames, I could see undefined dreams at the very early stages of development.
As those young flames grew, instead of growing more crowded, I found pockets of extra space form around me, allowing me to fill them once again with my own flames. New pathways and newer possibilities revealed themselves in abundance. Dreams which I had thought lost or never truly considered, became reality. The sacrifices which I had made, were transformed into such deep and fulfilling accomplishments, becoming a joint enterprise of myself and those whom I sheltered, raised, and loved.
These were my children, at least in spirit and in this moment.
Someone, somewhere else was getting the opportunity to raise them in this life, and I hoped that they were receiving the best support that they could to live a fulfilling existence. My place in their existence was momentary and ephemeral, but somewhere out there, they still lived on. . .
The vision ended and I came to with tears of fulfillment and loss streaking down my face.
As a young bachelor, I had yet to experience the joy of holding someone, a progeny by whom I could support and raise as a partial reflection of myself. I knew that they would grow into a separate and unique being who had their own dreams and desires. However, I would be able to instill a small sense of my ethics and standards within them which they could always choose to reference as they developed their own version of personal integrity.
The residue of memories and sensations lingered within me. The warmth renewed a mental picture of past Christmas’s as a child, sitting around the fire with my parents and younger sister. An uncomfortable knot grew in my throat at the recollection. We were so happy back then, and the fire was so warm as we shared our lives and joys with each other, unwrapping presents and enjoying a jointly cooked family meal for the season.
I experienced a sobering feeling as that highlighted memory faded back into the darkest recesses of my mind.
Bittersweet moments were what life was made of. However, what made life worth living was that there was a limit of impending time in which death would eventually come. You could never truly know in what form or in which eleventh hour it would arrive.