Diana’s Weekend Prompt: Arcs of Time

Cosmic Strings Of Time

Past, present, future | Linear | Ontological| All relatively true

The other day in these pages of KTHT I ended my submission to the bonus prompt with these words:

Thank you for bearing with me and my INTP Christmas Tree Brain Magical Mystery Tour through the space-time continuum.

Roll up!

Out of the Time-Box, Yet One With It

At the beginning of February, I wrote a story about connections that span and defy space-time as linear. I asked Anthi to name it for me.

Here is a highlight of my thoughts from therein:

Seven years earlier, I had painted these words:

Perhaps because I am not driven by sex, but by connection, is also why I am capable of platonic love of a woman. It seems that most people do not believe that such can exist because they are not capable of it. For me, the choice between no relationship because for whatever one or many reasons romance is not in the cards, or having that person in my life and deriving shared spiritual pleasure from each other’s non-romantic intimacy and company and connection, is a no-brainer in favor of the latter

In this year’s story, I made the following space-time-defying connection between the essays:

I thought I wrote those words about a girl with whom I had developed a very close friendship in the Fall of 2013. Yet, upon reflection recently, what I wrote was way beyond Justine’s and my relationship. When I pulled the 2013 portrait out of the moth balls of my mind back in April, I realized that 6 ½ years ago, 5 ½ years before meeting Lindsey, I was writing about Lindsey/Sitara. It’s fucking absurd how spot-on that prose describes [my loving relationship with her departed spirit]. At the very least this is what I have coined a directional-reflective coincidence. I believe that such resulted from today’s experiences leaking thru whatever separates all the points in time that exist simultaneously and influencing what I wrote in December 2013. Perhaps; or perhaps it’s just my art and my life converging (not an original thought).

It’s the words “deriving shared spiritual pleasure from each other’s non-romantic intimacy” that seal this deal for me. You may chalk it up to I’m simply a good writer who embellished with flowery language. I do not discount that possibility. I’ll take the compliment. I do remember thinking at the time “whoa that’s a bit over the top, but I fucking like it.” In the context though of all that has happened these past three months, much of which is not in this paper and won’t be because it’s already going to be too long, I’ll go with my hypothesis any day.

The Nature of Time

I have written much about lifecycles and reincarnation. Yesterday I discovered a new writer on Medium, whom I recommend to the readers of KTHT — Shari Dworkin-Smith; Psychic Medium. Of one soulmate, Shari writes in Actor, Spouse, Instigator, Twin…

that we’d been siblings, spouses and compatriots, and that we were probably from the same soul family. Lifetime after lifetime, we tend to incarnate with many of the same players.

Of another:

We also had shared many lifetimes. We had been brothers, spouses of both sexes and in various lifetimes had even murdered each other at least once! Yet, he was still the Protector.

There are those who believe in infinite simultaneous alternate realities. Alan Lew, a KTHT contributor, wrote of this here:

I disagreed with Alan here as far as his belief that free will exists only within the paradigm of parallel universes.

As relating to time, I believe that souls are time travelers in that we can choose to improv-script our masterclasses at any point in time. I do not believe an already-lived-life has to have taken place in the past nor that a yet-to-be-lived life has to take place in the future. I do not believe that the paradoxes of time-line crossing as discussed in science fiction present an issue. Each chosen setting is an alternate reality.

Empathy as a cosmic string connecting realities

Yesterday I read here in KTHT Tjmakesk’s gripping and moving tale of oppression and trauma that results from religious perversions of truth. This story demands more attention.

We both looked at each other as shyly as two newlyweds. My mouth going all dry and my blood pounding in my ears. He smiled and I thought that was the prettiest sight. Just then, I heard steps behind me, I turned to see my mother rushing up with my elder brother following close behind. My heart stopped beating, the ground disappearing beneath me and I blacked out.

Only to be woken up in pitch dark. I looked around adjusting my eyes to my surroundings and noticed I was back in my room. My mother was sitting in the corner, quite like a stone statue. As I sat up and she jumped on me, started hitting and slapping with whatever she could grab. She pulled me by my hair and brought my ears close to her face. “Your Uncle touched, you were complaining and crying! Here, you met up and did God knows what with this scum!” Why did I birth you, you disgusting bad girl!”

I commented:

I felt like I was in the room with you — and I know why besides your tremendous writing ability — I realize I still carry pockets of shame and pain from a past life that create true empathy with you — I have written about it briefly here, but reading your story had much more impact than what I wrote.

In an already-lived-lifecycle, I had incarnated as a Muslim woman, gang-raped as a teen or young adult. I carried my father’s shame in me to my grave. Reading Tjmakesk’s story yesterday, I felt the existence of that pain and shame poised on an arc of a grand cycle of time.

In Rama I create,

Marcus

For further reading on religious perversions of truth, I recommend this from Markus Scorelius: