"It is the secret of the world that all things subsist and do not die, but only retire a little from sight and afterwards return again. Nothing is dead; men feign themselves dead, and endure mock funerals… and there they stand looking out of the window, sound and well, in some strange new disguise."
"Blue oblivion, largely lit, smiled and smiled at me."
Upon death, a soul slowly seeps out of its brain, with a painstakingly tender carefulness humans cannot perceive in their vague senses of time. Once free from its old shape, a soul rises to the sky blue heavens above, fated to swirl amidst winds sometimes mere inches above the Earth's surface.
For an indeterminate length of time, a soul circles the globe, in longing search of a new form, a new brain. During its sweeping, churning journey, the soul remains in a simultaneous fashion both omniconscious and unconscious. Without a brain—though certainly with fuzzy, overwhelming senses of once-lived emotions—the soul does not remember its past experiences in its past shells.
The soul simply understands what paths it must take, based off of the subconscious paths previously taken. It is in this understanding, then, that a particular shape is chosen with instinctive care—a soul does not rest until, finally, it happens upon the exact shape it needs to take on upon re-entering the tangible world.
It is not clear as to whether or not a soul can directly recall memories from past lives, once it enters a new brain. Perhaps it is possible.
Perhaps this is all speculation.
Excerpt from:
MAN CLAIMS TO HAVE SEEN THE AFTERLIFE
Sept 2009
Day by Day Newspaper
"I saw Suzie's green eyes," Paul Grody exclaimed, happily, "I saw her eyes and everything felt peaceful and right."
The Reincarnation Station:
It is a widely-accepted fact that when a person dies, he or she is born into a new existence as another form of life. Exactly what form that new life takes depends on how that person lived his or her previous life.
Those who live honest, virtuous lives often return as powerful, well-respected creatures. Those who live lives of hate and sin, however, typically return as lower forms of life.
"I could well imagine that I might have lived in former centuries
and there encountered questions I was not yet able to answer;
that I had been born again because I had not fulfilled the task given to me."
A chocolate brown Labrador Retriever, just born, comes to fragile consciousness as his mother's rough, warm tongue licks him again, again.
He is small, with a tiny, invisible heartbeat.
The world is cold, and strange. He doesn't like it; he is scared, fearful.
His eyes shut, he curls into a ball.
He wants Mother.
He wants Mother!
He senses new presence around him. He has been sleeping for some time—as he has been passing the time doing just this for days, now. He does not need Mother, necessarily, but he is overwhelmingly happy that she is seemingly forever there.
Mother sniffs around, and the puppy hears swishes amidst and above his tiny body. He tenses up, wanting to bark, but Mother is calm. He is calm. No, he is not calm, but Mother is calm.
"Aw, they're all so adorable!" One voice exclaims, lightly.
The puppy swallows and he is thankful that the attention is, undoubtedly, directed towards his swarming, shuffling siblings. A blonde sister is grabbed; she then she disappears entirely from the puppy's sight.
He whimpers, if slightly, and abruptly inches towards Mother.
"I like this one," another voice drawled, booming above him.
"Oh, Blaine, he is a cutie…how on Earth do we choose? The cuteness level of them all truly astounds me…" the voice sighed, and the puppy felt his little heart patter more quickly, for some inexplicable reason. "Can we just get them all?"
Owner Man laughs, now, joining in the two new voices. His tone has a familiar eager gravel to it, which rubs a person in either the wrong or right direction—never any neutrality, however. On this scary occasion, the puppy took the rumbling chuckle to warn of some ominous, horrid future.
Mother!
He scoots closer to Mother, which simultaneously scuffles the floor in a soft, mushy sound, and brings a quick hush to the voices above.
Cool hands grab at him, securely.
He wiggles for his life, but to no avail.
Mother!
His stomach drops as he feels the ground leave him completely—maybe he's miles high in the air, maybe he will die—
The hands cradle the puppy, brushing his short, soft hair.
A certain warmth suddenly seeps between the tiny body and large hands.
Two fingers rubbed tenderly behind small puppy ears; the dog squeals with abrupt happy comfort and pleasure. Mother is forgotten, for now, as the puppy opens his eyes to gaze into large, sparkling pools of blue.
Everything is serene, and silent, and understood, in some strange fashion.
"I want him," the puppy watched those large, soft lips move, in fascination (he has never seen a human so close, before!)
The face smiles, and his stomach flips, he is elated and giddy with infatuation for new adventures.
"Let's name him…Max," the hands hugged the puppy more tightly, warmth enveloping the small dog.
IF YOUR FAVORITE COLOR IS BLUE:
Your deepest need is to find inner peace and truth.