Tag Archives: story

Mythology {2} ~ Creation Stories {5} ~ Australian Aborigine

There was a time when everything was still. All the spirits of the earth were asleep – or almost all. The great Father of All Spirits was the only one awake. Gently he awoke the Sun Mother. As she opened her eyes a warm ray of light spread out towards the sleeping earth. The Father of All Spirits said to the Sun Mother, “Mother, I have work for you. Go down to the Earth and awake the sleeping spirits. Give them forms.”

The Sun Mother glided down to Earth, which was bare at the time and began to walk in all directions and everywhere she walked plants grew. After returning to the field where she had begun her work the Mother rested, well pleased with herself. The Father of All Spirits came and saw her work, but instructed her to go into the caves and wake the spirits.

This time she ventured into the dark caves on the mountainsides. The bright light that radiated from her awoke the spirits and after she left insects of all kinds flew out of the caves. The Sun Mother sat down and watched the glorious sight of her insects mingling with her flowers. However once again the Father urged her on.

The Mother ventured into a very deep cave, spreading her light around her. Her heat melted the ice and the rivers and streams of the world were created. Then she created fish and small snakes, lizards and frogs. Next she awoke the spirits of the birds and animals and they burst into the sunshine in a glorious array of colors. Seeing this the Father of All Spirits was pleased with the Sun Mother’s work.

She called all her creatures to her and instructed them to enjoy the wealth of the earth and to live peacefully with one another. Then she rose into the sky and became the sun.

The living creatures watched the Sun in awe as she crept across the sky, towards the west. However when she finally sunk beneath the horizon they were panic-stricken, thinking she had deserted them. All night they stood frozen in their places, thinking that the end of time had come. After what seemed to them like a lifetime the Sun Mother peeked her head above the horizon in the East. The earth’s children learned to expect her coming and going and were no longer afraid.

At first the children lived together peacefully, but eventually envy crept into their hearts. They began to argue. The Sun Mother was forced to come down from her home in the sky to mediate their bickering. She gave each creature the power to change their form to whatever they chose. However she was not pleased with the end result. The rats she had made had changed into bats; there were giant lizards and fish with blue tongues and feet. However the oddest of the new animals was an animal with a bill like a duck, teeth for chewing, a tail like a beavers and the ability to lay egg. It was called the platypus.

The Sun Mother looked down upon the Earth and thought to herself that she must create new creatures less the Father of All Spirits be angered by what she now saw. She gave birth to two children. The god was the Morning Star and the goddess was the moon. Two children were born to them and these she sent to Earth. They became our ancestors. She made them superior to the animals because they had part of her mind and would never want to change their shape.

Source: http://dept.cs.williams.edu/~lindsey/myths/myths_13.html

Short Stories {7} ~ Ego Delusions Amongst The Dogon

Amonst the elders of the Dogon Tribe in Central Africa a flurry of discussion was held by the Adrinki Tree, the main point of conversation within the community. The Dogon (or Kaador, Kaado) are an ethnic group indigenous to the central plateau region of Mali, in West Africa, south of the Niger bend, near the city of Bandiagara, and in Burkina Faso. The population numbers between 400,000 and 800,000.

Boko was watching from a distance within his hut whilst his mother was preparing his morning meal of goat’s milk and beans. Arrogantly he shouted, “Mother, when is it ready? I have to go and play with Hurani by the Adrinki tree soon once our elders have left this morning’s meeting.” “Boko, watch your manners, what have we taught you? Lord have mercy on us,” softly uttered Boko’s mother hurrying to finish her task. “Mother, you must make me this meal, I have to go, you know what, I will go hungry, since you cannot play the role you are supposed to,” Boko replied angrily. Boko ran out of the hut with his eyes still fixated on the elders by the tree. Boko’s mother tutted and mumbled words under her breathe.

Tribal elder’s noticed Boko run through the newly planted flowers without a care, he was to focus on this morning’s talks. “Boko, come,” a wise elder voice sounded. Boko stopped in his tracks and turned around sheepishly knowing what he had done.

“Boko today you will go with Narabi into the desert, you will find what you need there,” spoke the main elder. “Ok, but I was-” Boko churped. “You will go with Narabi,” the elder said sternly. “Yes, I will go,” mumbled Boko hesitating. Boko was itching to play with his friend and had no regard for finding what he needed, he knew everything he needed to know and that was that.

The hot desert sun made Boko’s forehead drip sweat onto his cloth dressing whilst flies bothered him, swatting his hand back and forth above his head.

“Ego is a formation of our identity crafted through our life experiences, the name we are given, the things we have been told about ourselves and who we believe we are. The God within us is who we truly are, the ego allows us separation to experience this incarnation and with a healthy ego, knowing who we truly are, we can flourish,” Narabi spoke whilst walking to collect water from the water hole nearby the village, they had followed a track into a clearing. Elephants, zebras and eagles went about their dharma seeking out nourishment from the heaven in the desert. Boko contemplated Narabi’s words, chewing his bottom lip.

“So, what I have created is not real?” shrieked Boko. “Yes and no, you see the ego is our sense of self; it is the illusory “I” story we carry around in the world as an evolutionary survival mechanism. Yet the ego is the source of all our suffering and our feeling of being separated from that which we truly are which is boundless, whole, and infinite. We might call this Spirit, God/dess, Life, Oneness, Consciousness, and so on,” replied Narabi twisting her braids observing and collecting water in vases for that night’s ceremony which Boko had yet to discover.

“So the more ego-based we are, the further we are from the Light of Consciousness which goes beyond the self? And if residing in the ego equals a disconnection from the Divine, living from a place of ego-centric God Complex goes one step further: it is like living in total darkness – the very definition of hell?” questioned Boko patiently awaiting a reply. “Father, was right Narabi, I have been silly and childish in my ways.”

“When a person is living in hell, they will harm others. This is basic knowledge that even a child like you can understand. When there is a total absence of light, there is only darkness – and how can a person see clearly, feel clearly, think clearly, or behave clearly in such a state? The result is suffering, both for the one experiencing the God Complex and those unfortunate souls around him or her in the village,” reasoned Narabi with her strong and wise words, an elder female within the Dogon tribe who Boko took seriously as she was the mother of wisdom, the nickname the tribe had given her affectionately.

Boko excused himself, thanked Narabi for her help in understanding the ego and ran through the village back to his hut and squeezed his mother tightly and didn’t let go. “Boko, what has come over you today? Are you ill?” Boko’s mother spoke. “Mother, I love you and apologise for all my wrongdoings, I have learnt, I am not my ego, I am the divine encapsulated within this body. Mother, I found something today and that is my true self,” whispered Boko still clinging to his mother. “You know Boko, you know,” smiled his mother with joy.

That night, under moon-lit savannah, the Dogon tribe initiated Boko under the Adrinki tree into the ascended ones and began Boko’s journey on the path of love, truth, knowledge and wisdom. For one day, Boko would be teaching another version of himself in another under the very same tree.

The divine disguises itself in us all, clothed in many dresses, yet the ego is naked, the true seat of self is the all, the fraction of the fractal within us all.

~DiosRaw 06/04/21

Short Stories {6} ~ A Prostitute Walks Alone At Night, Authentic Love In Bavaria

Young prostitute Maria walked along her usual path in the dark waiting for truckers who stopped overnight by the highway in the underpasses of Bavaria. Sex was all she knew how to do well, the kind of mind numbing sex, empty and void of true love. Stumbling, slightly delirious from all the drugs she had taken that night in a techno club where she worked night after night racking in the cash she desperately needed to keep afloat, to pay her rent, to feed her drug habit; Maria spotted a trucker in the distance.

The trucker’s lights turned off, pitch darkness surrounded Maria, her shiny belt holding up her short skirt glistened, reflecting the one street lamp a long way down the desolate highway.

“Hey baby, wanna have some fun, I’m Maria hunny?” Maria giggled leaning over the tracker’s door. “I will make your night’s stay here worth it.” Maria bit her lip seductively, she had done this routine before as the light’s inside the vehicle lit up.

Little did Maria know, this trucker was not the usual type she fornicated with each night in the early hours, she was too intoxicated to see clearly. “Prostitution and drugs, numbing the pain, huh?” Said a wise husky male voice. Maria stumbled on the sidewalk curb and fell backwards hiting her head, knocking herself unconscious, unaware of all happenings around her.

“Hello Maria, I’m Phillipe,” soothed a wise elder man working in a community in the forests of East Bavaria. “Maria, you’ve been unconscious for three weeks, you fell on the highway curb and hit your head. Here, we have been doing healing on you, we have shamans here, healers. I know you have heard of us.

Maria gasped, not only at her embarrassment of her situation, but she remembered this man who she tried to entice. She could not speak, she was utterly confused.

“Maria, shamans here have cleaned up your aura and your addictions, they have worked closely with their spirit allies to cleanse your soul,” explained Phillipe. “You are clean Maria, not only of the drugs you were using, not only of the sex addiction due to your severe trauma and abuse when young, you are also in a safe environment now. Here, where we are, is a community of good people living in the wild living a natural and pure life. True love is not looking for God within men or drugs, it is when you have found yourself, when you are whole and two souls come together.”

Maria understood all Phillipe was conversing to her, she had spiritual awareness from a young age, not only did she see ghosts but she could also forecast the future, claircognizance. “I understand, yet I cannot quite digest all this, it is too much. I don’t have anyone, I have no possessions or life and here I have come to a place I have seen in my dreams all my life. Am I dreaming?” Maria pinched herself and felt the burn within her skin. “Thank you.. Just thank you.. I.. I.. Wow, I have never felt so good.”

“What is true love?” asked Phillipe to Maria bluntly. “I have not experienced this,” retorted Maria.

“Love, true love, is when two are whole. Spiritual love is a love rooted in a spiritual connection that helps us find meaning and purpose in our lives. These spiritual loves can serve different purposes: some are meant to walk with us through life, while others are meant to teach us lessons. True love is ultimately single hearted devotion to God and having unflinching trust in this cosmic intelligence. The trust must be so strong that no one and no circumstances (no matter how much debilitating or lucrative) can sway you away from this. To love a person unconditionally is key here, often said yet a different pill to swallow,” Phillipe said clearly taking a moments breathe.

Maria could not resist her impulses, she looked deep into Phillipe’s eyes, intuitively she recognised his doors to the soul from a past life.

Maria spent months working with shamans to learn how to use her natural abilities to heal and went on to become a medicine woman who attended to people coming from far and wide to bathe in her newfound light and auric glow.

Tantric love making in the camp occurred night and day between Maria and Phillpe in the months ahead of them, falling in love with each other’s soul. They both had not ever felt such a magnetic pull between them. Although Phillipe was much older and wiser, he could not resist Maria. Soul age not human age formed their relationship. Maria learnt what true love was and Phillipe enjoyed Maria’s sexual talents in their hut by the lake, love making was never boring to them both. Maria and Phillipe could express their true sexual nature’s with eachother. Maria bore two children and forever was entranced by Phillipe’s kindness and life saving gift, now free of her past karmic lessons through her purgatory initiation.

Real love is a soul connection, two people who love themselves, joining and merging to become one with the divine.

~DiosRaw 05/04/21

Mythology {2} ~ Creation Stories {4} ~ The Iroquois, Native American

Long before the world was created there was an island, floating in the sky, upon which the Sky People lived. They lived quietly and happily. No one ever died or was born or experienced sadness. However one day one of the Sky Women realized she was going to give birth to twins. She told her husband, who flew into a rage. In the center of the island there was a tree which gave light to the entire island since the sun hadn’t been created yet. He tore up this tree, creating a huge hole in the middle of the island. Curiously, the woman peered into the hole. Far below she could see the waters that covered the earth. At that moment her husband pushed her. She fell through the hole, tumbling towards the waters below.

Water animals already existed on the earth, so far below the floating island two birds saw the Sky Woman fall. Just before she reached the waters they caught her on their backs and brought her to the other animals. Determined to help the woman they dove into the water to get mud from the bottom of the seas. One after another the animals tried and failed. Finally, Little Toad tried and when he reappeared his mouth was full of mud. The animals took it and spread it on the back of Big Turtle. The mud began to grow and grow and grow until it became the size of North America.

Then the woman stepped onto the land. She sprinkled dust into the air and created stars. Then she created the moon and sun.

The Sky Woman gave birth to twin sons. She named one Sapling. He grew to be kind and gentle. She named the other Flint and his heart was as cold as his name. They grew quickly and began filling the earth with their creations.

Sapling created what is good. He made animals that are useful to humans. He made rivers that went two ways and into these he put fish without bones. He made plants that people could eat easily. If he was able to do all the work himself there would be no suffering.

Flint destroyed much of Sapling’s work and created all that is bad. He made the rivers flow only in one direction. He put bones in fish and thorns on berry bushes. He created winter, but Sapling gave it life so that it could move to give way to Spring. He created monsters which his brother drove beneath the Earth.

Eventually Sapling and Flint decided to fight till one conquered the other. Neither was able to win at first, but finally Flint was beaten. Because he was a god Flint could not die, so he was forced to live on Big Turtle’s back. Occasionally his anger is felt in the form of a volcano.

The Iroquois people hold a great respect for all animals. This is mirrored in their creation myth by the role the animals play. Without the animals’ help the Sky Woman may have sunk to the bottom of the sea and earth may not have been created.

Short Stories {5} ~ Dead Sea Love Intoxication With God

The Dead Sea, full of minerals and health rejuvenation, a salt lake bordered by Jordan to the east and Israel and the West Bank to the west lies within the Jordan Rift Valley, and its main tributary, the Jordan River. Dynamo, a head strong, workaholic of a man, was taking a break from his life as a top wall street banker in New York City.

Dynamo’s sea sickness was churning up his stomach whilst sailing in the midst of the ocean. For two days he had been drifting in the salty lake not having bearings of his location. Materialism had consumed his life, but he had forgetten one thing and that was his conscience. Dynamo had focused more on bringing his top of the range sunglasses than vital nesseccities. Pleading with God, Dynamo cried out, “God, I beg you to gift me a miracle, I beg you, I thought I had all the equipment with me, I failed again, now I am drifting as my whole life has been due to my devious ways.”

Dynamo mumbled incoherently, words no one could hear except God, with a lack of food, his consciousness was sinking into a semi-conscious delusional state.

Words seemingly coming out of no where sinking and blending into his brain waves almost taking over his physical vehicle in a trance boomed out. “Recovery tells a story, the way out of self-sabotage, is self-love but you don’t need to hit rock bottom to gain self-love. You just need to stop beating yourself up mentally. You’ve been trying to find me in cocaine, a plethora of drugs, women, prostitutes, cars, material possessions, in coffee, in cigarettes, in conversations and in your work yet you have not found me yet.”

God carried on. “If you’re wondering what your purpose is here on earth, I can give you the answer. You are here to find yourself. To embrace yourself. To be yourself. And in order to do all of that, you must love yourself. You see, at some point, we all experience a pivotal moment in our lives that has such a devastating effect that we lose a sense of our own worth.

“For you,” continued God, driving Dynamo’s consciousness, “it happened quite early. When I look back now, I can see that in your soul contract you lacked self-love from around the age of ten when your father became an alcoholic and mistreated you. The years that followed were tumultuous and you stripped away your true self and became less and less ‘you’ until you reached your mid-twenties and there wasn’t much left of you – you chose to sell your soul to banking. Find compassion for yourself Dyanmo, you endured severe trauma, you were trying to find me in them.

“Prior to starting the process of self-love, I had no idea that I was sabotaging myself so badly,” Dyanmo shivered. “If you would have asked me back then if I loved myself, I would have answered no, the truth was that I was battering myself from head-to-toe every day of my life. I wasn’t physically beating myself up, but in my mind, I was tormenting myself for not feeling good enough.”

“Become the hero of your own story,” God shouted. “I AM the hero of my own story,” cried Dynamo regaining his consciousness. A sickingly euphoric feeling melted his body and mind, the shore line was in sight. Dynamo navigated his boat towards the wooden planks before him breathing a deep sigh of relief. Overwhlemed with God’s love and wisdom, he came to the realisation that life was about service and love. Not only did he quit his job that day, he used his millions to build a rehabilitation centre in Jordan for orphans, the mentally troubled and the homeless. Revelation.

Love is you, love is within you, when you start to look inside you, you will find the love you have been yearning for. Always remember that the most important relationship that you will have in your life is with yourself. You are God, yet a fractal of it – paradoxes galore.. Find him in you.

~DiosRaw 04/04/21

Mythology {2} ~ Creation Stories {1} ~ The Hindu

In Hinduism the universe is millions of years old. In line with the Hindu belief in reincarnation, the universe we live in is not the first or indeed the last universe.

For Hindus the universe was created by Brahma, the creator who made the universe out of himself.

After Brahma created the world, it is the power of Vishnu which preserves the world and human beings.

As part of the cycle of birth, life and death it is Shiva who will ultimately destroy the universe. This is not necessarily as bad as it might sound because it allows Brahma to start the process of creation all over again.

Examples of how the origins of the universe are explained in Hinduism include:

~A lotus flower grew from Lord Vishnu’s navel with Brahma sitting on it. Brahma separated the flower into three parts – the heavens, the Earth and the sky.
~Out of loneliness, Brahma split himself into two to create a male and a female. From this male and female all beings were created.
~Another story makes reference to life coming from the cracking of an enormous egg, which is the life from which the universe is born.
~The Hymn of Creation from the Rig Veda concludes that nobody knows how the universe came into being and even questions whether Brahman knows.
~Some Hindu texts offer a more scientific explanation based on the evolution of primary elements from a single source.

These accounts, and others, were written many centuries ago in or around what we now know as India. They were not necessarily intended to be taken as literal scientific truth, but are indicators of the complexity and infinite nature of the universe.

Source: https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/guides/zv2fgwx/revision/7#:~:text=For%20Hindus%20the%20universe%20was,will%20ultimately%20destroy%20the%20universe.

Short Stories {4} ~ Kyoto Magic

Running through the Kyoto mountain range through winds beyond the realms of his monastery, Tiko had been instructed to find the essence of magic by his Zen master, Gikyo.

“What is magic?” the young Tiko mumbled to himself whilst dragging his feet, overlooking cherry blossom trees crowding the peaks of the cliffs. To Tiko, magic seemed something enigmatic and mysterious yet so close to home. In myths and legends many of the monks in his monastery had heard of the concept of magic yet Tiko could not quite comprehend it.

Tiko could see his spirit guide, No Face, hovering in the distance, patiently awaiting this young boy’s arrival. No Face, Tiko’s spirit guide, was a dark shadowy and loving being with two white eyes poking out from behind his black veil. “Tiko, can you see it?” whispered No Face as his student arrived. “Well, I see the eternal universe,” exclaimed Tiko.

‘Magic is the science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with will,” No Face told Tiko both sitting on the wooden bench atop the Kyoto mountain. Tiko was fixated on No Face, his beloved guide, seen since birth, flowing in and out of his life, he felt safe in this spirit’s presence.

“When I say “magic” I don’t mean the stage craft of disappearances, card tricks, and other illusions — impressive as they are. I mean the practice of magic and magical thinking, the ability to shape our lives and the world around us through belief, ritual, and the invocation of forces far greater than ourselves; forces we may not fully understand, and which “work in mysterious ways,” as is often said,” No Face reached Tiko. “Magic is a neutral term, not inherently ‘good’ or ‘evil’, the intent and morality behind it is up to the practitioner themselves.”

Tiko took a deep breathe in and out correlating all his past knowledge from ancient texts, his teacher Gikyo words and No Face’s teachings.

“Magic is life, magic is the spells we cast on one another with our thoughts, magic is formless yet form, magic is the essence of life. Magic is love. Magic is silent yet loud. Magic is nothing yet everything. Magic is the indescribable and can only be experienced,” Tiko gasped turning to look at No Face. “Tiko, you never fail to impress me with your young, yet old soul wisdom,” smiled No Face.

Gleefully rushing back to tell Gikyo all he had learnt, No Face faded in and out of the third dimensional realm, observing Tiko between spheres, he was never alone. We are never truly alone.

Back in the monastary, Gikyo grinned and patted Tiko on the back. “Are you ready for your next task Tiko?” Gikyo said sipping his green tea leaves resting in his wooden chair by the porch. “Yes, of course,” said Tiko knowing No Face would be there to aid him on his journey.

Tiko slept on the monastery floor knowing No Face was always there to help guide him on his path to enlightenment; warm and satisfied with his day’s work he slept sound within the magic that cradled him.

~DiosRaw 02/04/21

Mythology #1: What Is Mythology?

Mythology (from the Greek mythos for story-of-the-people, and logos for word or speech, so the spoken story of a people) is the study and interpretation of often sacred tales or fables of a culture known as myths or the collection of such stories which deal with various aspects of the human condition: good and evil; the meaning of suffering; human origins; the origin of place-names, animals, cultural values, and traditions; the meaning of life and death; the afterlife; and the gods or a god. Myths express the beliefs and values about these subjects held by a certain culture.

Short Stories {3} ~ Paradox Diffusion

Years after searching for God in psychedelics, Rumi had not wavered in her quest for knowledge. Without the benefit of a prescribed social role, she did what she wanted, when she wanted, which was to learn without regard for convention. Today, paradoxes were circulating around her mind, determined, she would not sleep without finding her answer.

At other times and in other places, Rumi would have been burned at the stake, hailed as a prophet, or stoned. The present time simply ignored her. Normal people treated Rumi as a public garbage can, light post, or stalled car, as an obstacle that could be moved but numbed by her surroundings.

“Take your pills NOW,” shouted the nurse down the corridor, from Texas’s renound mental hospital for the “insane.” Rumi rolled her eyes as Nurse Truchin’s sharp voice echoed and bounced off blood stained walls, she was sitting in room 23, her white washed room “gifted” to her by her parents, they could not cope with her cosmic mind anymore. Rumi had been in Senora Texas Mental Hospital for two weeks and she felt on edge, this was her first time in an asylum. Rumi paced up and down her abode, she had to take those dreaded sleeping pills or else they would force it down her throat somehow. Reluctantly she calmly walked down the hallway and was handed her pill through the dorms pill shutter.

Rumi swallowed the pill. “Good, now go back to your room, checks are at 11pm, make sure you are in your bed or you know what will happen,” said Nurse Truchin coldly. Rumi said nothing, she would achieve nothing by responding and quietly returned to her room blocking out the screams from the room beside her’s.

Shutting her door, relieved, she lay on her bed staring at the white washed walls that had become her friend. What were paradoxes? How could two opposing propositions exist at the same time? The sleeping pills were making her more and more drowsy. Lonely and with a heavy heart she pulled the duvet above her head. “A paradox is a statement or problem that either appears to produce two entirely contradictory (yet possible) outcomes, or provides proof for something that goes against what we intuitively expect,” Rumi reiterated inside of her mind.

Hallucinating as she usually did on these pills, she saw imagery quite like her visions on magic mushrooms a few months ago. Warping geometric patterns danced in a trance with eachother as her eyes flickered going in and out of consciousness.

I will sleep on this Rumi decided in her mind drifting off into the astral planes.

Upon awakening her answer had arrived, getting out her notebook she wrote “Paradoxes lead you to God.”

On her day of release, after all this time pretending to act normal to get out of this hell hole of an asylum, Rumi saw Mrs. Truchin as “insane” and Mrs. Truchin saw Rumi as insane. Rumi quietly knew that duality breaks down into formless consciousness; she was sane in an insane world.

“I know one thing,” Rumi said to Mrs. Truchin as she left the asylum doors. “And that is that I know nothing.” Rumi remembered studying ancient Greek philosopher’s such as Socrates years ago. Mrs. Truchin took one bewildered look at Rumi and walked away. Rumi smiled to herself and smelt freedom once again, her taxi was awaiting to pass through the doors into the insane world.

Time is a construct of consciousness and in higher dimensions has no meaning. but, in the lower dimensions it is used to measure changes and in the multitudes of parallel timelines all simultaneously existing. Paradoxes melt into the all, Source, Brahman, Allah, whatever name you stamp onto formless ether.

~Amber, DiosRaw 01/04/21

Short Stories {2} ~ Life & Death Conundrums

In the heart of the lungs of the planet, Drogo was sent by his shaman to retrieve the wisdom, from the plant spirits on his dieta, of the concept of life and death.

Drogo, a young tribal boy from the mayani tribe had been initiated into an shamanic apprenticeship by his medicine man grandfather. He went hungry as part of his initiation to feel the full effects of his dieta and consumed the fruit of the Mondura plant. Drogo wandered into the undergrowth to his hut made by his father to undergo his apprenticeship.

Laying back on his hammock a spirit lingered in the back of his mind tell him “A long time ago life and death were best of friends, death saw life as a gift and life saw death as a gift. When the time came when people spread all over the world, life and death began to criticize each other. People view life in your tribe as the most precious gift from God and people view death beyond this jungle as something that no one wants. People have lost touch with the truth of reality, that your spirit never dies and your soul passes on into the realm overlapping yours.”

Drogo was an intelligent young man and understood every word of what the Mondura plant spirit said.

Within the scope of Drogo’s dreams that night, death and life were conversing with eachother. Death: “Why is it people love you so much where in fact you are just a dream, a fascination. No one will stay forever. Life is short and no person will live forever. Why is it people like you?” Then Life said: “Yes you are correct with that Death, I am just a dream, a fascination and I know Life is not forever. What is important is the things or deeds that you do during your earthly life. How about you death? I know you are the reality of life. That everybody dies, yet they do not die.”

The next morning Drogo wandered into his tribes camp and met with his grandfather by the Mondura tree.

“Life and death, two sides of the same coin,” Drogo exclaimed in a simple manner.

“Yes, my grandson, it indeed is,” replied his shamanic elder. “Now you know this, what will you do?”

“I am not afraid anymore grandfather, I am dead already,” Drogo echoed through the jungle.

Roars of the howler monkeys shuddered the ground beneath them, they said their blessings to the plant spirits and thanked them for their aid.

The jungle holds many secrets for the ones who see, all is here now.

~Amber, DiosRaw 31/03/21