General Fiction posted January 10, 2020 Chapters: Prologue -1- 2... 

This work has reached the exceptional level
A newly conceived character narrarates from the womb

A chapter in the book I, Don Pattern

The subtle foetal world

by Carl DeVere

In the prologue, there is speculation about a person's perceived individuated being. Could it be instead...a mere pattern?
In the Fall of 1944, in the dark days of the second world war, I descended into the Earthly Realm circa 1945. I use the term descended only loosely, because "descended" is only an assumption on my a "little bundle from Heaven", so to speak.

There seem to be some people who can speak far more authoritatively than me about this matter of descending and ascending. How do they know? I don't have a real clue. But I have noticed that some people are more psychic than others--that is... they "know" more about things from some mysterious source in themselves. Should there be any kind of limitation on these attributes?

These gifted individuals state that, at death, the best course of action for the now disembodied self is to go with the flow; that is naturally moving in an UP direction and not be distracted, in any way, by any thoughts of hanging around--you know-- just to see what happens next in the opposite direction of DOWN. Indeed, the most enlightened people caution to not even be tempted to look SIDEWAYS for therein may lie a trap of illusion...a so-called BARDO where you do not want to wind up. This BARDO idea is backed up by the Tibetan Buddhists that a lot of people seem to think so hip, and even by that grand old philosopher, Plato.

I have read about this so-called "tunnel of light"; swirling with perhaps ridges at its periphery and containing LIGHT at the end and have adopted this teaching as my own personal viewpoint. It's good advice and even agreed upon by the various psychologists and death-bed counselors who base their assumptions on the interviews of those who have technically died. So that's the what's what about the end of my present viewpoint.

What still lies uncertain, for me though, is the opposite process of beginning a new life. I am logically supposing that what goes up must come down. But I will, no doubt, be forced to abandon logic at times...gladly. And so, I will begin my fanciful tale, unencumbered by any logic or sense at all.

I came down (or perhaps up) in a swirling tunnel of light with various ridges at its periphery, moving toward a new existence as an earthbound fleshling. I'll just stick to down for now; down, down, falling, in the popular imagination, to Earth. So here I come to Earth; a small oblong creature or not-quite-something with a squiggly tail. Out of the tunnel--into the atmosphere of Earth and somehow mysteriously drawn to what appears to be a SPEEDING TRAIN SLEEPING CAR in the middle of a Fall night.

Suddenly--SPLASH--quickly through some gonads and--SPLURT--out the penis and into another kind of tunnel, not so well lit. And I find myself in some crazy competition with others who look like me--other tiny little swimmers--all aggressive and figuratively (because they don't have elbows) elbowing each other like some kind of weird Roller Derby. Round and round we go pushing and shoving our way to somewhere that we are not even certain about; but we think that everyone else knows what they are doing and we want to win whatever it is, even if we don't know. Do you know what I mean?

At last, we see the PRIZE straight ahead--the goal! It looks like some kind of a huge egg, much bigger than our tiny little-individuated selves. I'm the fastest and strongest but the others are breathing down my tail now and even trying to bite it off even though they don't have mouths; and baying, like coyotes, at the Moon, straight ahead. At the last moment of the race, it becomes a huge long jump. I leap and land in the soft cushy egg exhausted. Can we conclude that life is not about individuated little squiggly forms--but rather about UNION?

SUDDENLY a huge shield goes up around our combining act and the others are just out of luck. They get flushed down some other kind of tubes. Ahhhhh...the sheer BLISS of it all...the cushy warmth...the savoring of victory and defeat for my competition. Time for a beer! I think that I am an individuated male and not really able to apologize for it. It was a tough race and I won.

But, I must admit, that it was a comparatively short race even though I thought it took forever. To be fair, there were some women swimmers in that race. They were not as fast, seemed to be much smarter, had stronger swimming skills and were much more polite. If the race had been longer, one of the ladies, probably even assisted by another lady, would probably have won. I really want to be fair about women. I love them so much. Some of my other ramblings have been misconstrued as being rather cavalier and condescending. I can be that too sometimes...sorry.

Back to my "love nest": I am so much in love now with this egg and the combining just continues on and on in an orgy of pleasure not ever before experienced--a happy little zygote, just sloshing around. Next came a process called Capacitation...which involves the destabilization of the little squiggly sperm allowing greater binding. Get the picture here? You must become destabilized before you can be successful with a woman.

The next nine months of Earth time seemed like an Eternity. I could not go anywhere or do anything. I just had to continue to develop and mature. Most of the ladies I was to meet in this present incarnation probably thought that was the only time I ever did that. Some people believe that the little zygote, the rapidly becoming fetus, is just a load of some fleshy matter that will ultimately become a responsibility that they may not want. This is the first conflict.

Just because the developing little zygote isn't yet a cute little cuddly bundle from heaven, it does not mean that it's just a fleshy something. I need to clarify this matter from my viewpoint: While I was a little fetus, although I was confined physically, I was mentally and emotionally very active. I was able to transcend the limitations of a physical body and travel to other realms; both the one that I had just come from, various assorted others that may have aroused my curiosity, and even outside the womb into the world that I had not even entered physically yet.

These are the metaphysics of the situation: EVERYTHING HAS CONSCIOUSNESS...I think...ok ok I'm not really certain.

What a predicament. I noticed while I was still in that amniotic fluid-filled sack, that I was getting a bit impatient with the Japanese refusal to quit the second world war, then still raging. So I decided to drift over to the Throne Room of the Great Emperor of Japan at the time, Hirohito. When I was ushered into the Throne Room, Hirohito was having a bowl of noodles and some green tea--all washed down with a glass of Saki. These days he did everything while sitting on his throne--which was, no doubt very huge and impressive. He seemed to me to be multi-tasking, eating his food from a small table pulled up to the throne and reading a poem that his grandfather had written:

The seas of the four directions--
all are born of one womb:
why, then, do the wind and waves rise in discord?

Good point--why indeed?

"Hey Don--what in the world are you up to these days?" said the great emperor. I told him that I was about to be re-born into this world that he was now screwing up. He squirmed a bit, not used to being in the presence of only those who revered him as God and replied, "I'm trying my best to end this ridiculous nonsense but you know it just ain't easy." He went on to quickly explain that he had to think of his people and how proud and determined they were to make him into some kind of a "divinity." He told me that he now understood that it was his destiny and that he still had to play along in this, his pre-ordained pattern. After all the people had given him a "Snow White" horse to ride around on--well you get the picture. He had to play the role. He had no choice. He then had me promptly thrown out.

I returned to the confinement of my mother. Here I was, trapped inside the amniotic fluid-filled sack and dependent wholly upon the actions of my mother. What a predicament. What a conflict--confined physically but still able to travel around various realms. I was the first child so my mother had no previous experience and assumed that I had no idea of what was going on... wrong. I was aware of the circumstances surrounding my eventual birth. Heavens! Not an easy place to cheerfully enter, to say the least. Much easier to just "zone out" to some other realm and put off the responsibility of another lifetime. Some folks keep doing that even after they are born!

On and on went the second world war. War sucks. It's all about communication in some way. But, in war, communication goes past talk and becomes more solid; thereby taking on a leaden form that snuffs out lives and horribly cripples people physically and emotionally. I had been hoping that it would be over by the time of my arrival, but no such luck. My latest earth father had served in the early part of the war against the Japanese and had already received his share of the lead in the form of some fourteen-inch naval artillery shells--an event which, no doubt, shaped the rest of his life. He returned to the United States when there was still about a year and a half to go before the war was to end. He married my mother and took a SPEEDING TRAIN SLEEPING CAR to his next duty station.

It did not look like the stubborn Imperialist Japanese were interested in surrender. And, if they did not surrender, my father would probably have to go back to what was shaping up as a horrible bloodbath. That's the way it looked, at the time, before the even more horrific explosions that were to cast a giant shadow over the entire lifetime coming. I had a glance at some blinding light and a premonition of something exceptional in my life even before I arrived. I was, however, uncertain as to what that something exactly was. Moreover, I had a premonition that this life was not going to be easy or even easily understood at all.

My latest earth father had returned early from the war, no doubt to impart a certain military kind of operational wisdom to those who had not yet gone to combat. He was stationed in some rather primitive place in the United States. My latest mother hated the place and, after the SPEEDING TRAIN SLEEPING CAR incident, had refused to give birth to her first child there. I was checking the place out. It was shacks and dumpy little makeshift trailers, out-houses and boiling water over a fire just to wash clothes. My latest mom had lived in New York City and had seen Frank Sinatra in concert and screamed with all the other "bobbysoxers," so she really knew what real civilization looked like. My latest earth mother insisted on a more civilized surrounding for her new little cherub's delivery.

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