What Does A Spiritual Awakening Feel Like?: Story by Melodies Abroad

What Does A Spiritual Awakening Feel Like?: Story by Melodies Abroad

A spiritual awakening is similar to being born burdened by anchored Strings. Born having to circumnavigate and breathe around coarse unforgiving structures. This undesirable parasite intertwines and snakes beyond the depth of your back. Contorting around your shoulder blades and functioning with its own foreign agenda. 

Unbeknownst to you is the String's reason for burrowing in your delicate bone marrow. When you inquire what authority the strings have to inhabit your human like an apartment, while treating you like the bastard tenet, you are met with silence.

 

These wretched Strings deliver everyone into faithful and ignorant submission. Yet you still continue with your sentiment that there is something greater than their torment. You believe that the story set before you have falsified chapters. You perfectly imagine the Strings cunningly retracting the metamorphic chapters of an evolving story. Chapters that depict a utopia absent of dark and mysterious String like entities.   

With this idea aging in your heart, you determine yourself to discover these hidden chapters. You will yourself to live by the guarded remnants of what you know to be the universal truth. Much to the dismay of the rest of society, you protest the system you're all too acquainted with.

 Your fingernails steadily and masochistically rake down the embroidery of the Strings. Listening sadistically to the snap and pop of bloodied stitching. Your hands tremble with the revelation of your strength and ability. The rage in your heart churns like bile so you urge your lips to shut. Scared that a release in tension will ensure the emesis of your falsified foundation. Your soul is aware that this reality is illusionary yet you’re loyal like its kin. 

The physical resistance to the String is enough to draw peering eyes to your person. You continue to shout, curse, fight, and scream…. You do it all. The Strings steady presence on your back grows to feel patronizing, you grow nauseous; so, you detach. With force rising in your body, you destroy. Shredding the Strings with God-like hands, resisting the dark entities with assured grounded stance. You set your calloused hands around the base of the abhorred String and heave. Muscles tense and quiver at the weight of the demon that scrambles to occupy your soul. The String fails to understand the conviction you draw with; this miscalculation is fatal, and the Strings hold loosens. 

Black matter falls from the heavens as the once rigid villain descends from source. You crane your neck to face the sky and finally see the Strings source. With the String fallen you can finally see the clarity of the heavens above. While squinting you focus your triumphant gaze on a massive and blurry figure. You raise your exhausted arm, carrying the tears from your eyes and settling your focus. When the dusty smoke and haze settles you are met from the gaze of two massive eyes. You see an alien figure holding what's left of marionette strings. Wails echo through the quiet town as you plummet to your knees, hunched and whimpering.

 You feel the physical weight and trauma of your revelation; You were a puppet the entire time. The strings were no more than a means to dictate your destiny and control your conditions. The depression contorts itself into cruel fury, you collect your weak limbs and rise to a stance. Back straight and eyes unwavering you make eye contact with the alien. He looks at you with no remorseful expression, so you holler.

 You feel the sunk cost of screams wasted on no empathetic creature, the alien smirks. His smile disrespects the very nature of the action. His upturned lips send chills down your crooked spine. The alien trudges away, shifting through clouds to move his enormous body. You glance at the floor and stare at the once mysterious string, the being that you thought was larger than life. 

Picking up the string you raise it to the sky to compare its mass to that of the alien giant. The stark contrast is enough to make the most prideful man crumble. What you knew to exist as reality is a fraction of a diabolic equation. The lack of control you felt and attributed to a venomous string, was being commanded by a more malicious master. You were simply a puppet in the Aliens bizarre show.

With your mind liberated and your anatomy unrestricted you walk off stage.

You travel to the end of your village and cross over, something the strings strictly prohibited; in the past yanking and dragging you back into the parameters of the enclosed community. Today you weightlessly bypass the border and walk forward. Failing to look back or second guess you march. Your legs drive into the uncharted and unclaimed land. The environment is rich in vegetation, its beauty causes your eyes to swell with emotion. 

You settle by a stream; the sound of its flowing water urges your mind to calm. The sunlight sets a spotlight to clear blue water that glistens on the rocks. You look up and watch birds dance in the sky and sing you harmonious melodies. You realize this is your home, you realize that this life is where you were meant to be. It dawns on you that the aliens used their strings to keep you from the true heaven on earth. 

While sitting amongst the playing animals and wildlife you hear a commotion. You glance over your shoulders and see a mass of community members. They are shouting at you, waving, smiling, laughing, hollering. They run towards you holding the fabric of dead strings. Each member looks battered and beaten, sporting matted hair and bloodily garments yet they appear more joyous than ever. 

You welcome your community with open arms and relish in their warmth. The strings never allowed the community members to embrace so you hold tighter. You go down the line hugging women and children alike. The air is electrified with the potential and possibility of a better life. Within hours food is gathered, water is collected, makeshift houses are constructed and slept under. Night falls and you decide to sleep under the stars with the community elders. Laying in the blanket of moss and grass your eyes begin to flutter shut. The sounds of crickets chirping, and owls cooing produce the most entrancing lullaby you've ever heard. 

You allow yourself to sleep knowing that you and everyone you love has escaped the matrix and will never return. The story in front of you is yours to write, the stage is wherever you place it, and the audience is chosen by you alone. You are free. Everyone is free.