I was born free.
Small, and strong, and steady I stepped out into the world. Bright eyes and clenched fists, clothed in the light from which I had come. Fearless.
I grew. In size and in spirit. I launched myself forward, certain that others would catch me, because we were all light. We all came from light. We were all bound by the sameness that hid beneath our skins. Skins didn’t really matter. It was just there for decoration. You know, to keep the world from being too same. God doesn’t like boredom.
I grew. The light was all big and shimmery – like the fireflies I’d catch on summer nights in the fields nearby. Those fields with all those fireflies. That was the closest I ever came to seeing what God sees. Millions of tiny lights all calling to each other, like a dance, like they all needed each other to shine their brightest. I was one of them. My insides shone through my skin.
I grew. I kept holding to my lightness but sometimes it would sputter. Sometimes other people’s lights would sputter too. I didn’t want to see that, to be confused by a light that could go off and on. I thought light was part of us all? I thought light was me?
Who was me? Was I light? My light got smaller. It wasn’t, like, I flipped a switch. It was more, like, my switch got flipped. I mean, I got flipped. Like, everything got turned around and I didn’t know which way was on anymore. Like, I got scared, and couldn’t see the way I was supposed to see and I just kept looking and looking for the light in those people and the light in myself and it was, like, I forgot how to see it at all anymore. Like I was alone, and I had no light. What was light?
I got smaller. I started to hide from the people. Because the people couldn’t be trusted anyway. No one could be trusted. Sometimes people would say light things and they’d turn their torches on me and I’d go blind. And I couldn’t see them but I knew they were laughing at me, all exposed and small. I knew they saw me, saw me in my skin. My gross skin that I just wanted to rip off, but I couldn’t because it was me. It was all of me. All we are is skin.
Skin and bones.
Bones are white. I remember something about white being good and light being gold, and maybe if they can see my bones through my skin my skin won’t matter as much. Maybe My white white bones will be enough to hide behind.
I got smaller. I hid behind my bones. I hollowed them out and shrunk me down and stuck myself inside of them. No one can find me in here. It’s dark inside my white, light bones. It’s safe.
I slept for hours. For days, and months and maybe even years. I slept inside my hollow bones. I slept inside my darkness. It ate me up, until there was only one bite left to eat. One bite of me, inside my hollow bones. One bite of me, and the dark opened up its mouth and scooped me from my hollowed out bed and…
I woke up. I moved my tiny shoulders, all hunched from all that hiding in those hollowed out bones. I stretched my toes and wiggled my fingers and opened my eyes. I peered out through the hands of darkness, not sure if eyes still worked when there was nothing to see. But there wasn’t nothing. There was something. There was this something behind darkness, that blinked once, then twice, then blinked again. On and off and on.
My tiny eyes got bigger. I sat up now, my limbs unraveling, quicker, then quicker still, my body getting stronger as if willing me to stand. It kept blinking, that something behind the darkness. Incessantly. Blinking on and off and on. “I AM NOT NOTHING” I heard it say. My ears grew too, it seemed.
I grew. I stretched. I clawed at darkness, clawed for the something.Trying to find space inside myself I stretched and stretched, my skin suit growing tighter around me. My skin suit; my skin suit that was more nuisance than necessity. Why had I thought it was the me in me? Skin doesn’t really matter. It’s just there for decoration. My God, just skin is boring.
My God. I grew from God. But what was God and who was God and why was God and where was God?!
The blinking stopped.
I saw the light. And I grew. I grew in size and spirit. My skin suit split as I grew and grew, and still I grew. And with me, the light grew too. The light, all big and shimmery, was everywhere. I stood there with my skin all off, all shredded and limp, and the me of me exposed for all the light to see. The me of me all big and strong. Bright eyes and clenched fists. Clothed only in the light from which I had come.
I was born free.
2 thoughts on “Chrysalis (The Story of Me)”
So grateful to behold the light emerging, the light that was there all along, perhaps shrouded, but not able to be extinguished.
It sounds like you have had some incredible mystical experiences. Reading your story reminded me so much of my own (with obvious differences) path at times. I am looking forward to asking you more about this at a later date! Love you, Brynn!!