Today, after visiting the Veenpark at Barger-Compascuum (a theme park regarding the local history and beyond) for the 2nd time, I spontaneously remembered one of my past lifetimes, this time a life not particularly blessed with joy and happiness.
”Sometimes the days are nothing but grey coldness. At those moments all I am truly sensing is the rain, pouring down on the deepness of my soul.”
Her name was Yoska, a tall woman with curly brown hair. She happened to be an immigrant from Hungary, living somewhere in the northern region of the United States. The glimpse of that specific lifetime, the one I am actually recalling, must have been anywhere in the year of 1883. Within a clear vision, or lets refer to it as a vivid daydream, I noticed her standing on the balcony of a wooden train wagon pulled by a grand locomotive. She was obviously wearing one of those ‘commonly known’ sun bonnets, in order to protect her face adequately against the rather scorching rays of afternoon heat. The color of her long, probably handmade gown, could best be described as a pale variant of brown, which appeared quite somber in almost every regard. Her big blue eyes were filled with tears at the time she was tenderly holding the hand of her loved one, or in fact the hand of a woman she was so desperately trying to marry. Time and again her heart had been broken as people were always prepared, or at least inclined, of turning their lives into a miserable venture, solely because of their ‘deviant’ lesbian relationship. Needless to say that the heart of the smaller lady beside her had also been broken for way to many times. Her name was Mathilda, a somewhat petit woman, though with a fully American background. After a closer look, I better remarked her pretty figure with wavy long hair complemented by brown glittering eyes. Nevertheless, most of her face seemed hidden under the flap of a big yellowish hat.
“Sweet pumpkin pie, please don’t you cry. Albeit a garden needs its water from time to time, tears are meant to be dry, for the sadness in your eyes are causing all plants to die.”
Mathilda uttered these simple words whereas she valiantly endeavored to alleviate the sorrow of her travelling companion, yet unfortunately, to no avail. At that time, her words gruesomely collided with her most sensitive nerves, inextricably connected to the soul, inasmuch bigger tears were rushing down her cheeks. If I would find myself in the position of comparing her true affliction to some natural occurrence, I guess I would be capable of stating that the wetness of her tears is incredibly similar to any of those unexpected rain storms, in the middle of a hot summery day. Though, whenever Mathilda attempted to comfort her girlfriend wholeheartedly, she considered tears as the achievement of a contrary effect, not knowing their genuine purpose. Apparently, she deemed herself unable to explore the unmistakable meaning of summery rain itself.
Silent hours arose and the Sun was going down already, leaving a diversity of the most breathtaking colors at the edge of the horizon. A veritable mixture of purple and pink and everything in between. Eventually, Yoska had found the courage to confide in her Mathilda once again. Prudently, not unlike a devoted woodworker measuring his slabs with the intention of building a new creation, she then said;
‘Mathilda, do you know those feelings as if your whole world is falling apart, ultimately to transform into a million of smithereens? When there seems nothing more to win but everything to lose? And do you know what truly hurts me the most?’ Yoska asked, still in tears. Mathilda took off her hat and gently nodded by letting her know that she had a pretty good idea. ‘People with their myriads of desires. Some may be difficult to realize, or hard even to fathom, while other wishes are of a more easier nature, as they are better to understand. There are sufficient souls whom are witnessing their desires finally coming to a rewarding fruition, and those that are not. Regardless of who or what you really think you are, each and every single soul has its own longings, captivated in the subconscious bottoms of the soul. There are no exceptions. Now, all I sincerely want is an official marriage so that our love can be acknowledged veraciously by all those differing souls, a love that shouldn’t be impossible. Well, instead of accepting our little dream, as we would always duly accept theirs, they do nothing else but to bombard us with their poignant remarks accompanied by a superabundance of preconceived notions. And when we are very unfortunate, they may even cast a number of rocks at the two of us. It almost inevitably happens no matter where we are going or where we are at in spite of the fact that, they too, want nothing else than their own desires fulfilled. This my darling one, is making me sad as it tends to blind my heart.’
Alas, little did she know about the collective attitude of a civilization living on a continent so far away. Two years earlier Yoska had made quite a thoughtful decision since she knew all along, for some inexplicable reason, that forsaking her conservative gypsy family would turn out beneficial with regards to her personal welfare. Thereupon she bravely exchanged the frontiers of her homeland, with merely a small knapsack packed with a minimum of belongings, for an entirely new world, or so it seemed. And as luck or perhaps an unknown destiny would have it, only one year later she met a likeminded soul, gifted with an identical sexual orientation. There she came.. out of the blue, a remarkable persona reinforced by a golden aura, someone she immediately identified as a soul sister on a more profound spiritual level. Indeed, they fell in love right away and were destined to be together ever since. Not even one single day would pass without them holding each other’s hands.
‘Keep faith, my dear Yoska, please keep having faith. All these reproaches and other torments are just examples of petty human inventions, based solely upon their own innate nescience. Basically, we should be the ones feeling compassionate about them, the poor souls, considering that they themselves clearly don’t know anything about our energetic evolution at all. Our Heavenly Parents created us just the way we are, because, as soul sisters, this is exactly the way we were meant to be. Pioneers travelling uncharted terrains for the benefit of future generations. Thus please, I ask thee, keep your faith on high, this you must promise dear Yoska.’ Consequently the two women embraced each other fondly, as if they were the only beings alive. After all, they both explicitly knew that unconditional love can never be directed nor be influenced by the diminishing kind of envy from other souls.
The train kept on driving, and driving and driving, straight across the vastest landscape one will ever be able to imagine. Gigantic plumes of white smoke were floating through the dusky sky, whereas countless of glimmers from a perfectly full moon transformed the whole entourage into an authentic fairytale. One may have to wonder, same as I did, will such a miraculous journey, on a timeless night, a night like this, ever come to a conclusion?
Frank as can be, this happened to be the only scene I was allowed to behold. Of course, it may sound as a major contradiction that I, the author of this extraordinary report, knows nothing about the further courses of their lives. Yes, Yoska, she was a former incarnation, or a sheer aspect of my higher Self, or let’s call it another facet of a grandiose diamond, though this is the only thing I know for sure. And as such, I am enthusiastically conveying all my gratitude to the heavens for showing me an infinitesimal piece of an infinitely large puzzle.
The vision itself was bright as living daylight. Although at first, I couldn’t grasp any details about the cold shivers running down my spine when I was standing on the balcony of a railway wagon myself ( as my current incarnation) at that local theme park, concerning the history of the province. Also the sudden sadness, that just didn’t seem rational, as well as the strange urge not to hide my tears any longer, were at least looking out of place. Thence, I thought I was losing my mind, just until these ‘vivid images’ had successfully found access to my soul later that day. At last, it was all making a whole lot of sense. Therefore it shall always be impossible to thank the heavens sufficiently. And no, I cannot thank you, the committed reader enough, for taking the time to learn about my little adventure. Hopefully a time well spend. Take care and never forget, every ending marks only the prelude of a new beginning. Nothing lasts forever. Namaste..