Tose watched as he was pulled into the grove, and followed behind him. Did he know this was a sacred place? A secret place? This Aspen Grove was drawn directly from Toses subconscious, a facsimile of the one she had found in the physical world, where she'd gone to find peace, to meditate alone. This was where she felt close to Moseke, where she could find the inner stillness that normally evaded her often racing mind. In the waking world, she'd resented having to bring others to it, it had been the one place, the one thing she'd felt inclined to be selfish about, though of course when it had become necessary for the greater good she had. Here, when it was clear, in a literal fashion, that this was where her connection to Moseke was, here, with him, she felt no resentment. It was right that he should find his way here.
She listened to him, and more than that, for more was possible here, she stayed open, she took in the emotions he was radiating. She felt what he wanted to communicate, but did not have the words for. His feelings washed over her. Though his regret, his pain, hurt her, and she wished she could shield him, take it away, she knew that it was his. That he had to face it. She could only see to it that he did not face it alone.
At the same time, she was amused. Her own natural cheerfulness and optimism meant that she saw things very differently, and as he finished his questions, she smiled, and a light laugh escaped her.
"The Mother might have a better idea than most, but neither she nor I knows for certain who you will be. Thats the point I think. We are not constructs, we are not tools, we are our own. We are free to choose our own path, to grow as we will. We can be shaped and influenced, but within us all is a spark of.. of divinity, of individuality, of self so that always at the end of the day, we can determine our own identities. And then if we do not like those identities, or if as we experience and grow, they stop fitting, are no longer comfortable, we can change them again. Everyday when you wake up, you do not need to be who you were when you went to bed, you need only be who you are, working towards who you want to be."
"You told me you believed you had no choices, that you were destined only to destroy, that this is how we were created, and now you wonder if you are not who you truly are, who you could be, who you want to be. Of course not. You forced yourself into a role, now it is time to stop acting and find out who you truly are."
She watched as he shed his protective covering, briefly standing vulnerable, before regrowing it, but this was all right. It was not so thick, so impenetrable. Not so rigid. It gave him room to move. He was allowing himself room to maneuver, to change. This was promising.
"You do not need to turn around tomorrow and be an entirely different person with a different life, though you could if you wanted to. It is just.. Knowing that you have room. You are not trapped."
She paused. It was becoming hard to find words for all the ideas that were racing through her head. They either were not coming quickly enough or she just did not have them. It was hard not to be derailed.
"I wonder if.. I wonder if that is why we do not remember our past lives? Because our natural tendency is to create a character for ourselves and confine ourselves to it. Perhaps that is why each life is a blank slate, with only our familiars to provide hints and insight."
She thought about this.
"I wonder if the Immortals have made caricatures of themselves? All know they each govern specific aspects, perhaps they've trapped themselves and now though powerful can never be more than they are, largely unchanging."
She frowned.
"This is sad I think, and if it is true, no wonder some of them resent us. They may be powerful, but they are static. We can be and do anything."
And theologically important. If the parents(?) of the Immortals had died and humans had sprung from this event, did humans then have a spark of that original divinity and creativity? The Immortals had been specifically made. Shaped. Humans had not. They'd been molded into the individual races afterwards of course, but their original creation had not been intentional. It had been spontaneous. So perhaps they were given more leeway, more possibilities than the Immortals themselves.
Did the Immortals get to walk their own path? Did they get to walk any path? Perhaps they were more like landmarks than travelers.
She listened to him, and more than that, for more was possible here, she stayed open, she took in the emotions he was radiating. She felt what he wanted to communicate, but did not have the words for. His feelings washed over her. Though his regret, his pain, hurt her, and she wished she could shield him, take it away, she knew that it was his. That he had to face it. She could only see to it that he did not face it alone.
At the same time, she was amused. Her own natural cheerfulness and optimism meant that she saw things very differently, and as he finished his questions, she smiled, and a light laugh escaped her.
"The Mother might have a better idea than most, but neither she nor I knows for certain who you will be. Thats the point I think. We are not constructs, we are not tools, we are our own. We are free to choose our own path, to grow as we will. We can be shaped and influenced, but within us all is a spark of.. of divinity, of individuality, of self so that always at the end of the day, we can determine our own identities. And then if we do not like those identities, or if as we experience and grow, they stop fitting, are no longer comfortable, we can change them again. Everyday when you wake up, you do not need to be who you were when you went to bed, you need only be who you are, working towards who you want to be."
"You told me you believed you had no choices, that you were destined only to destroy, that this is how we were created, and now you wonder if you are not who you truly are, who you could be, who you want to be. Of course not. You forced yourself into a role, now it is time to stop acting and find out who you truly are."
She watched as he shed his protective covering, briefly standing vulnerable, before regrowing it, but this was all right. It was not so thick, so impenetrable. Not so rigid. It gave him room to move. He was allowing himself room to maneuver, to change. This was promising.
"You do not need to turn around tomorrow and be an entirely different person with a different life, though you could if you wanted to. It is just.. Knowing that you have room. You are not trapped."
She paused. It was becoming hard to find words for all the ideas that were racing through her head. They either were not coming quickly enough or she just did not have them. It was hard not to be derailed.
"I wonder if.. I wonder if that is why we do not remember our past lives? Because our natural tendency is to create a character for ourselves and confine ourselves to it. Perhaps that is why each life is a blank slate, with only our familiars to provide hints and insight."
She thought about this.
"I wonder if the Immortals have made caricatures of themselves? All know they each govern specific aspects, perhaps they've trapped themselves and now though powerful can never be more than they are, largely unchanging."
She frowned.
"This is sad I think, and if it is true, no wonder some of them resent us. They may be powerful, but they are static. We can be and do anything."
And theologically important. If the parents(?) of the Immortals had died and humans had sprung from this event, did humans then have a spark of that original divinity and creativity? The Immortals had been specifically made. Shaped. Humans had not. They'd been molded into the individual races afterwards of course, but their original creation had not been intentional. It had been spontaneous. So perhaps they were given more leeway, more possibilities than the Immortals themselves.
Did the Immortals get to walk their own path? Did they get to walk any path? Perhaps they were more like landmarks than travelers.