Lots of life

He had a glimmer in his eye as he turned to his wife. She smiled, a star twinkled in heaven and at that very same moment a tiny soul sat before the three Fates, contemplating a human existence.

We know this to be true, because a man by the name of Er, had a life-after-death experience and came back to tell us.  He learned how we come to be who we are and live the lives that we live; have the experiences we do and choose the paths that we take. According to him it seems to be pretty much predetermined, how things turn out.  He spoke of the Fates at length.

Taking notes at the feet of Socrates, Plato scribbled madly as the master of Western philosophy shared the oral history of humankind.

For us, the setting is the birthplace of Western philosophy, of Middle Earth, quite literally the Mediterranean. Our belief system is that our planet, the Earth is the centre of the universe and the heavens, the cradle of humanity.  This is a time when the mysteries of astronomy and astrology are one.  It is roughly four hundred years before the birth of Christ.

We head up the page for our story of The Myth of Er.

Once upon a time in the heavens far, far above Mother Earth, in a place where the Fates hold influence in the scheme of things, a tiny being lay in the Lap of the Gods, bedazzled by the crystalline structure of eight spinning crystal bowls, each nested inside each other. Eight planets, eight bowls in the universe, the nest of creation.

Occasionally a hand reaches forth and spins one bowl so it travels a little faster than the others. Each is tuned to a different note in the musical scale and each note is a constant pitch.  Each planet has its unique tone.

Three figures, the daughters of Necessity are the tiny being’s companions. The Fates’ names were and still are, Lachesis, Clotho and Atropos. Dressed alike in soft, luminous robes, with garlands of meadow flowers woven into their hair beneath their turbans, Necessity’s daughters sing their lilting melodies, the notes swirling in and out of the nested bowls. Lachesis sings of things past, Clotho of things present and Atropos of things to come.  Our tiny being is swept up in their melodies.

Lachesis reaches into a bowl and takes a handful of what look like dice, gently tosses them in her hands before spilling the sparkling coloured cubes onto the rainbow rug before the tiny soul. These dice are lots to be chosen, lots which reveal patterns of lives to be lived for an incarnation as a mortal soul.

Hear the word of Lachesis, the daughter of Necessity. Mortal souls, behold a new cycle of life and mortality. Your genius will not be allotted to you, but you will choose your genius; and let those who draw the first lot, have the first choice and the life, which they choose, shall be their destiny. Virtue is free, and as a human honours or dishonours Virtue they will have more or less of her; the responsibility is with the chooser—God is justified.

Looking closely at the lottery of life, which lay ahead, our tiny being saw that some lots indicated a life of riches, some of poverty, pride, or shame. Others were of persons famed for their good looks, athletic abilities, of pride or arrogance.

There were lots with little to offer or much to be had, spiritual lives, material lives, short lives, long lives, healthy lives or absolute misery. There were male lots and female lots, so much to choose from.  At a loss as to which to pick as all the colours sparkled and beckoned, our tiny being sits quietly until inspiration comes. With eyes shut tightly, a tiny hand reaches forward, selects one lot for gender and one lot for a life.

Opening the tiny fists Fate reveals the left-handed path a female and the right-hand path a beneficial life for others, both destined to perform at Hecate’s bidding.

A soul must take with them into the world below, an adamantine faith in truth and right, that there too they may be un-dazzled by the desire of wealth or the other allurements of evil, lest coming upon tyrannies and similar villainies, they do irremediable wrongs to others and suffer yet worse themselves; but let them know how to choose the mean and avoid the extremes on either side, as far as possible, not only in this life but in all that, which is to come. For this is the way of happiness.

Clotho sits at her spindle, spinning the linen thread of life, until it reaches the length determined by the lot our tiny soul has drawn from the gift of Lachesis.  The thread is spun and cut by Atropos according to the lot chosen.

 Meanwhile an innate guardian spirit steps forward at the behest of the Fates; steps forward to join the tiny being on the rainbow blanket of the heavens.  Under the watchful eyes of the Triple Goddess, the two are bound together at the wrist by the thread of life.  Our tiny female soul is united with her innate guardian, a lifetime’s spiritual companion. With their bond ratified by the Fates, the music of the spheres rocks the cradle of life – the pair now irrevocably joined.  Our tiny girl will never walk alone.

With the ritual complete, the pair make attendance before Necessity, mother of the Triple Goddess, the three Fates. Necessity leans forward and with her finger outstretched, presses the upper lip of the tiny soul, sealing past memories. This is the last ceremony before the Mother.  It is called ‘The Forgetting’.

Before our female soul and guardian spirit have time to realise that all is complete, they are thrust forward into the River of Life, the beginning of their journey. Tossed this way and that, across time and space, testing their bond; the thread of life which some call a silver cord unites them as they tumble onto the plane of humanity.  Destiny has timed perfectly to connect with a baby child, conceived by an act of love between two mortals.  It is 1 July, 1968.  Allison has arrived.

The room is filled to overflowing with the scent of flowers. Every available surface is taken up with floral arrangements. Balloons are tied to the bed-head, the bedside lamp and even the door handle, all adorned with bows anchoring the joy of a second daughter to a loving couple.  One balloon escapes, plumping against the ceiling as the air swirls up from the fan. Helium filled, coloured pink; bold writing in silver announcing the arrival of a baby girl.

As she lifts her eyes from the bundle of joy swaddled in pink, a heady scent takes charge. Misty-eyed, our mother gently presses the indentation just above the baby’s upper lip and murmurs, almost to herself,  ‘Thank you Juno for our younger daughter, Allison June’.

The baby has thick blonde tresses, eyes that reflect the sky, a peaches and cream complexion and rosy cheeks. She is so beautiful and good-natured; a joy to the world.

The astrology chart for Allison June is cast before us now. It reveals a rather complex child one who would grow into a beautiful young woman; one who would hold a block of chocolate in one hand and a diet book in the other, enjoying the humour of the irony.  She wasn’t to lack for parental love, learning her social skills beside her sister and brother.

The chart reveals much more as well – that of her character and good nature, her innate ability to slip into dreamland, but then we would expect the chart to reveal this as it was cast at the time of her birth, the time when she entered the Earth plane. This was the lot that she had drawn. What her destiny held, what the Fates were yet to reveal, was all ahead of her.

Press your index finger to the indentation above your top lip and see if you can catch just a tiny flash of memory before ‘the forgetting’ clicks in.  Bend time, if you can.