Corinne’s Myth Feb 2012
Humans are lost in their path. The world goes round in a loop with no direction out or forward. Reincarnated here over and over, the condition gets worse, not better. Souls are all coming back as humans. Life lessons ignored, unheard, unattained, souls come around again and again. The human sheep pen is full. The rewrite strip is wearing thin.
Arachne is a soul who travels between the worlds. Sleeping in the Crab Nebula these long years, she hears the restless drone of the human condition.
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She calls to her messenger, the crow, asking what the earth winds tell. Crow travels to the land of earth and water. Flying from branch to branch, forest to jungle, ocean to desert, palace to ghetto, Crow hears the stories and laments. Returning to Arachne, Crow tells her what has been heard.
This tale is old to her; the cycle has come again. A new door is needed between the worlds, a new guide to other realms. She puts on her carnate shell, slides down the star trail at the height of the winter solstice and lands on the beach of the Last Sea. It is the sea one comes to at the end of every journey, connected to all places and all times by its very nature.
It is from this place that she will find a portal, a doorway to Somewhere Else. It is from this place that human-bound souls will find a way to transform from looking always away to hearing inward.
Arachne calls up a great shell that spirals Away and Towards at both ends. For twenty eight days, she binds sand and sea wind, the memories of spiders, the reflected light of ocean ripples and the deep singing of Gaia’s heartbeat to give the great shell form. When she is finished the path leads deep into its center; from its satiny walls one can see the starlight of Elseway shining. She gazes into the Gateway Shell’s great depth. It is both simple and beautiful at once.
The curiosity of humans is a known thing. It should bring them searching to see this great form on the edge of the Last Sea. But no humans come.
Tattered and smeared with smoke of explosives, breaking from imagining the worst of all things, ghost-eyed from surfing the electronic monster, starved of the joy that is kept in a box lest it escape, drugged with fear and isolation, clinging to a culture of material consumption, hearing only their own disharmony, they mill about disposed; but they do not come seeking the doorway to Elseway.
Arachne will weave the smell of seaweed and the sound of sunlight to build a song of hope. She will ask Crow to whisper this song from the tree tops like a great secret. And like something scarce and forbidden, humans will follow its seductive cadence across the mountains, the great deserts, the far away oceans, the urban wastelands, the beleaguered forests, from all the places large and small of the planet, to the great shell on the edge of the Last Sea.
When humans arrive, some will find their pathway through. Some will be so overcome by what they are leaving behind; they will fall in love with the old world and stay. Some souls will lay their human forms on the sand and float freely through the portal; and some will finally hear their own rhythm in the world and be at peace.