Horizon at Sandy Point

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Thoughts of the Unborn

If I work back from the date of my birth, there are 37 weeks to the day that my parents married. This surely means that I was conceived practically on their wedding night. In the old Chinese culture, a soul at birth is considered to be one year old - having spent 37 to 42 weeks accumulating enough matter to be identifiable as a person. This therefore would mean that I was conceived in the year of the tiger with traits and personality of a tiger rather than the rabbit personality that I have grown comfortable with. How confusing. From the single cells of each of my parents, certain things were likely already determined: what I would look like, hair, features, gender, life span, with certain abilities based on the brain wiring. Was I destined? Was original choice the only choice?

Isn't that a thought - that each of us is living the life of an original, perhaps chemical, perhaps electronic, perhaps reducible, spark that ricocheted between the cells that we crudely call sperm and ovary, that caused them to divide and sub-divide into multiple cells until there's a baby to be born, with joy or pain.  Does that not suggest that the original spark chose the womb, the circumstances of the birth, the tumult or calm of the childhood, the talent or ordinariness or destructiveness of the life.

What is this spark then? Some call it life or life force. But in each of us, it burns with slow steady intensity, regardless of fortune or favour, health or illness, without judgment or fault or contrition, and then moves on - disappears from the particular body - when it dies. It moves on.

If each original spark is the chooser of a body, a life,  an influence, a circumstance, saint or petty thief, politician, pauper, mass murderer or the child with congenital heart failure, does it mean that each of us is a circumstance set in motion for the amusement of the spark, a test, a diversion, an event. Now, think about the other sparks that you choose to spark off.

And then, what if there is only one original spark playing itself in multiple circumstances, in infinitely diverse variations of the game of living; of being predator and prey, eldest child or youngest, black white hungry haunted happy. Who am I? Who am I in relation to you? What am I choosing now? In this moment. In this life.

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