My brush glided effortlessly across the canvas, blending colors to form a vibrant sunset. Each stroke whispered of my long-forgotten dreams, aspirations that once burned bright with hope. From a young age, I yearned for my art to grace the walls of galleries and museums, revered like the works of Picasso or Da Vinci. But dreams, as I've learned, don't always manifest into reality. Perhaps in my youthful naivety, reality hadn't yet dealt its harsh hand.
Despite my passion and what others called talent, I never quite broke through in the competitive art world. There were always artists more skilled, more connected. My attempts to forge a career in art ended in bitter disappointment. So, I reluctantly settled for stability, working as a graphic designer—a distant echo of my artistic dreams. It paid the bills, at least, and allowed me to keep my canvas and brushes at home, waiting for the quiet hours after work.
My family never understood my choice. To them, pursuing art seemed a frivolous endeavor in a world governed by profit margins. They wanted me to follow in my father's footsteps, to embrace business and financial security. Countless arguments ensued, leaving me feeling adrift, misunderstood. In the end, I stubbornly followed my passion, even if it meant alienation from those I loved most. They cut me off, save for my sister, who was the only one who supported my choice unconditionally.
Gardening became my other escape. There’s something profoundly peaceful about nurturing life, watching a tiny seed grow into a thriving plant. To me, it was akin to witnessing God's brush at work, creating beauty from the simplest of beginnings. Walking among vibrant flowers and tall plants I'd nurtured over the years brought me a sense of peace and fulfillment. I found solace and a reminder that beauty exists even in the smallest details, It was truly a work of art.
I was content in my quiet life. At work, I kept to myself, never one for socializing. Reflecting on it now, my life hadn't been so bad. Not everyone had the luxury of a steady job, dinner on the table, and a roof over their head.
But life has a way of throwing unexpected curveballs. A few months ago, I discovered that I have stage 4 cancer. By then, it had spread too far for aggressive treatment to make a difference. Facing this grim reality, I made a choice. I opted for peace in my remaining days, surrounded by the things that I loved the most—painting and tending to my garden.
Chemotherapy was an option, but it meant sacrificing what little time I had left to a cruel cycle of pain. I couldn't bear the thought of being too weak and sick to pursue the passions that had sustained me through life's trials, I'd rather die surrounded by my paintings and plants than surrounded by IV and nurses.
As I stood before my latest work, a sense of calm washed over me. I knew my time has come. My body trembled, knees barely supporting me as I gazed at the blurry vision of my painting. Yet, I've made my peace with it all. I've lived well, finding purpose in my art and garden that transcends the mundane.
That night, beneath the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, I laid in bed, my body frail and weary. Around me, my paintings adorned the walls, each stroke a testament to dreams and memories intertwined. The gentle rustle of leaves outside my window whispered of the garden I had nurtured with love.
As I closed my eyes, a sense of tranquility washed over me. The weight of weeks of weariness began to lift, replaced by a quiet acceptance. I breathed slowly, the rhythm of life slowing to match the peaceful cadence of the night. My paintings, bathed in the soft moonlight, seemed to shimmer with a beauty, capturing moments of a life lived fully.
In this moment of surrender, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the moments of beauty and solace I had found in my art and garden. Gratitude for the love and understanding of my sister, who had been my steadfast companion in the midst of family discord. And gratitude for the peace that now enveloped me, as I prepared to embark on a new journey beyond the veil.
This is it, Ethan.. the light at the end of the tunnel, only at 23..
Waking up, I found myself no longer in my room. The familiar scents of paint and earth were replaced by an unsettling silence. Blinking in the soft, warm light that enveloped me, I surveyed my surroundings—a vast, featureless expanse of white stretching infinitely in every direction.
Confusion clouded my thoughts. "What?" I muttered to myself, disbelief tinged with a touch of humor. I had always been a believer, but this stark, empty space was a far cry from the pearly gates I'd imagined. "Hello? Saint Peter?" I called out tentatively, half expecting a reply from the gates of paradise.
No answer came. The silence persisted, unbroken by any sound or movement. I paced the endless white floor, unable to gauge its size or dimensions. There were no walls, no doors, no windows—just an infinite, serene emptiness.
A figure materialized before me, radiant and serene. Neither male nor female, they stood as a silhouette against the endless white, their form shifting like a reflection of a colorful starry night. I squinted, trying to discern features—a hint of an eye, a curve of a mouth—but found nothing. Their presence, however, exuded a palpable sense of calm that washed over me like a gentle wave, "God?" I questioned, and I could feel what looked like a subtle, muffled chuckle coming from them.
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"Welcome," they said, their voice carrying a melody of reassurance. The sound echoed softly in my head, breaking the eerie silence that had enveloped me since my awakening.
I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "Where am I?" I finally managed to ask, my voice barely a whisper.
"Hmm, I always struggle to answer this question with every newcomer" the figure replied casually. "You'd think we'd have a name for this place after a while, but I guess the higher-ups are just lazy. Oh well, it doesn't really matter where you are. Neither does it matter who I am, if that was your next question. And no, I am not God. He's quite busy these days, might I add. It'd be a sight to see if he descended down here"
Wow, this celestial being was talkative—and quite irreverent, too. Who dared speak about God like that? Well, it wasn't as if I would be the one to get smitten, but I certainly preferred to be out of smiting range, just in case it happens, you never know.
"So is this where I'm going to spend the rest of eternity?" I asked casually, my eyes darting around the featureless expanse once more. I half-expected a window to materialize or a door to open, anything to break the eerie monotony that was starting to give me chills.
The figure chuckled softly, the sound echoing gently in the vast emptiness. "Eternity is a concept mortals struggle to grasp" they replied cryptically. "Your journey here is but a pause, a moment of reflection and preparation for what comes next"
"What comes next...?" I pondered silently, my eyes widening in sudden realization. "Reincarnation is real!" I exclaimed with excitement. "I knew it, I knew it all along!"
Unable to contain my joy, I leaped to my feet. In my jubilation, I attempted to embrace the figure before me, only to pass through their ethereal form. If reincarnation was indeed real, it meant I had the chance to start anew—a chance to fulfill my dream of becoming a renowned artist. "My dream isn't just a dream after all!" I exclaimed to no one in particular, pacing excitedly. "Okay, Ethan, think" I muttered, trying to focus amidst my celebratory thoughts. "What time period would be perfect?"
I considered the possibilities eagerly. "800 BC? Perhaps I could be a personal artist to a Pharaoh" I mused aloud. "The Egyptians revered art, but the competition might be fierce. And they weren't known for their friendliness to foreigners"
My mind raced through history. "How about the Greek or Roman era?" I continued, my excitement unabated. "They celebrated art, though sculpture was more their forte. Boy, why does choosing a time period have to be so difficult?"
I sensed a perplexed aura emanating from the figure as they stared at me blankly. It dawned on me that perhaps my exuberance had been premature. It was too early to be celebrating—I still had so many unanswered questions. Did I even have a choice in where or when I would be reincarnated? And if so, would I retain my memories? Was Einstein a reincarnator too? The man was obnoxiously smart.
As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I realized the figure hadn't responded to my outburst. "Um, sorry" I muttered sheepishly, feeling a bit foolish now. "I guess I got ahead of myself"
The figure's form shimmered slightly, as if amused by my sudden change in demeanor. "Reincarnation is a journey of the soul" they finally spoke, their voice carrying a soothing cadence. "While the details may not be clear to you now, trust that your path will unfold as it should"
"Huh" I muttered, not out of confusion, but surprised by the unexpected wisdom from a being that had been rather talkative—and, I might add, rude about God—a moment ago. I guess celestial beings are celestial beings after all "So how does this work?" I asked.
"Well first, we will have to check your Karma," the figure explained calmly. "You can do that by saying 'Status Window' or just mentally commanding it to open. A window will appear in front of you, showing your information. Most newcomers end up with limited Karma, so I advise you to spend it carefully"
As the figure spoke, I followed their instructions and opened my status window. The celestial being leaned closer, their form shimmering with curiosity. For the first time, I noticed something that resembled an eye, widening in surprise. Had something gone wrong? Was the system malfunctioning?
"Holy moly! What is this!" the figure exclaimed in surprise. It wasn't really a yell, more of an above-average whisper—like when you're trying to scream at your sibling but your parents are asleep in the other room and you don't want to get a whoopin'. "Wow" the being exclaimed once more. "Your Karma... it's off the charts! Literally! It's going off the screen! Who did this!"
"Me" I heard a voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. What? Was there another celestial being that was too white to be noticed? Or were they hidden somehow? I looked around but saw nothing.
"G, you know this is unfair! What's so special about this guy?!" the figure asked, their tone a mix of anger and confusion.
G? Like in capital G? The Almighty? Was I hearing the voice of God?! Holy guacamole. I quickly knelt, ready to bury my face in the very white, rather bright floor, before I felt a tap on my shoulder. "G-God?" I stammered, shaking with an awkward smile. What is the etiquette for meeting God? I didn't know! What if I offended Him and got smitten? But then again, the other being was quite rude earlier and wasn't smitten... so maybe I was in the clear?
"Come on, stand up, man, I'm a big fan!" God said warmly. I looked around, still seeing nothing. God was a fan? MY fan? Did God love my art? Did He give me this obnoxious amount of Karma because He was MY FAN? Oh my Him! I've already achieved my dreams. The Louvre? Musée d'Orsay? They can go to hell! God loves MY art! Ha! Take that, Da Vinci, you bastard! You thought you were better than me, didn't you? Well I guess not, you never really met me have you?
But if my art was that good, how come it never worked out well for me to pursue a career in art? I mean, if God himself loved my art, it must have been mesmerizing to the normal human eye, right?
"If people loved your art, and you grew famous on earth, that would have consumed nearly all your Karma, which means you'd get reincarnated as an ant or something" The being in front of me explained, "It kinda goes both ways, that's why hermits and monks also come here with a large amount of Karma, but never as large as yours"
Never as large as mine, haha, nice.
One childish thought later, I still found it kind of unfair, even if God made me just a little bit known, just a teeny tiny bit known, I'd have been happy, but then again, I guess it would grow out of control really quickly, I still don't know If I should be grateful or angry, angry, huh? angry with God at that, I mean I was angry with God a lot during my life, I guess it's true that his plans are better than yours.
"Well then, mister artist, can we get started with your reincarnation process?"