The first is the one between birth and death. This life. The one you’re living right now. The unfolding of what was, through what is, into what could be.

The second is the other life. That between death and rebirth. It’s the elusive life, because in the midst of its living, there is no concept of itself. And so we can never speak of it.

It is where you return to. But when you return to it, you are not there to experience it.

We do remember it though. The feel of it is there in every moment. It’s there in every cell of existence, the source of every single atom and non-atom. That which gives everything and nothing.

It is the insidious knowing that we are not originally of this plane. That we are fallen.

And in the broken yearning for home, we search for what we came here to discover.

Everything that plagues us has been exquisitely designed in our second life, to live in our first life.

But to seek the second life as the goal is to miss the point. Because our return is the only inevitability.

To live the first life as a pursuit of the second, is to clench in anticipation of the relief of tomorrow, because we cannot give ourselves over to today.

And today is the game. This life is the beautiful gift we gave ourselves.

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Ewan Townhead

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