| The Fact of Lives |
Those who know me call me Calvin. I am aware. That is, I know who I am on the other
side. The other side of consciousness.
It takes long to become aware. You must earn it. Over many lifetimes. You know joy
and ecstasy. And pain and torment. And accept it all, as part of learning. And growing.
Here and now, Bronx, NY - 2001, I am Calvin Grant, a man. Twenty-six years in this life.
I have been a man many times. A woman, many times. I have lived long. And died
young -- once before I was born. I have always been -- Maali (Muh-AHL-lee). That is
what I call myself. It is the name I heard when I became aware.
That was a year ago. This time. This is my second awareness. I became aware the
first time in my last life. At thirty-two. I was a woman called Lisa. She died shortly
after awareness.
Crossing the street one day in April 1971, she was hit by a bus. She was in a coma for
many weeks and never regained consciousness. At least not to those who were at
her bedside. With her consciousness subdued, I became aware. Of myself. Maali.
Within a short time, the body gave in to the trauma and died.
I recall a peaceful darkness overtaking me. When I awoke, I was surrounded by a
golden light and perceived others around me, though I saw no one. Then I was pulled
into darkness and alone.
And then -- "Maali." I (Calvin) was sitting at my desk, daydreaming. Again, "Maali." I
heard it - and yet -- I didn't hear it. At least, not with my ears. It came from within.
From inside my brain somewhere. My phone rang and disturbed me. I didn't think of it
again until I laid in bed that night. In the dark silence, it came again, "Maali." And I
understood. I am Maali. That was a year ago. Since then I have been pondering and
searching. Reading and meditating. Looking for answers to questions that I wasn't
sure of. And still am. Searching for the truth. Whatever it may be.
At first, I tried explaining myself to others. My best friend. My co-workers. Strangers
in a bar. They just looked at me askance. Or sympathized, "We're all looking for the
truth." No one understood. When my boss suggested I see the company therapist, I
decided that I should keep it to myself. Am I crazy? Am I a freak?
I tried not listening. It didn't work. Questions still ran through my mind. Who am I?
Why am I here? Am I really who I think I am? Does anybody really know me? Voices
from within. I'm intelligent. I read. I know what they call people who hear voices that
no one else hears. Schizophrenic. Am I crazy?
»»»»»«««««»»»»»«««««»»»»»«««««
I took a month off from work and rented a cottage in the Catskills. Peace. Tranquility.
Time. Nothing but time. To think. To question. To answer. To question more. And
more.
Am I crazy?
The third night, hypnotized by a roaring fire, I recalled another life. Sean. The following
afternoon, swaying on the hammock, Susan. In all, I recalled twelve previous lives.
Five males. Seven females. Vivid, sensory memories. Of places. People. Pain.
Happiness. Tears fell from my eyes while remembering holding my husband in my
arms as he died. I was Elizabeth. It was 1902. He died of consumption.
In my first life, I was a boy named Ponti, a Navajo. That was before the white man
came to America. At six years old, I died from a snake bite. Even now, I tremble and
sweat at the sight of a snake. Until now, I never understood why.
Now I am back. Sitting at my desk. Preparing myself for a meeting with a new client.
And still my mind wanders. All that I have remembered has only brought more
questions. What does it mean? Does a part of us reincarnate? Will I live forever? Do
I want to? Am I imagining all of this? Am I the only one?
Life's everyday problems - money, dating, job - seem so unimportant in comparison.
Where do I really fit in the scheme of things? What is the whole picture? What about
God? Is He a part of this? Never being a religious man - this is truly a big question for
me. Have I been wrong all this time? Or is everyone else wrong? No answers. Only
silence. My head hurts. I take two Tylenol and a swig of cold coffee.
»»»»»«««««»»»»»«««««»»»»»«««««
"Maali."
I look behind to see who called my name. No one is there.
"Maali," a voice. Coming from where? The street is empty. "You will not see me. I
am not there."
I hear the voice from inside -- but not like before. This voice is different. Tentatively, I
answer, "Where are you? Who are you?"
"All your questions will be answered, soon. Turn right at the next corner."
"How do you know my name? How can I hear you?"
"Why do you ask questions when you know the answers? Turn right at the next
corner."
"Telepathy? How? How do I know you mean me no harm? Why should I listen?"
"If you truly seek the truth, you will trust yourself and turn right at the next corner."
I turn right.
"Excellent. Turn left at the light and go to 3231. I will answer no more questions, till
you are here. See you in eight minutes."
I look at my watch. 9:33. My head tells me I should be scared. Of what? Exactly. Who
knows what? But my gut tells me there is nothing to fear. He said, "Trust yourself."
The light is four blocks away. I turn left. The building on the corner reads 3039. I walk
on . . . 3087 . . . 3121 . . . I look at my watch. 9:37. Doubt creeps in once more. What
am I doing? Following directions from voices in my head. Call Bellevue. Send the men
with the white jackets, before it's too late. I walk on . . . 3155 . . . 3191 . . .. My stomach
is in a knot. I walk on . . . 3213 . . . 3231. I look at my watch. 9:40. A minute early. I
walk into the vestibule. Look at the doorbells. Which one?
The buzzer rings. I go in and walk to the stairs. I reach out with my mind, "Which
apartment?" No reply. Two flights up, I stop. Somehow I know this is the floor. Four
doors. "Which one?" No reply. Closing my eyes, I turn to the right and take two steps.
I raise my hand to knock . . . the door opens in front of me.
"Maali. Come in. Or do you prefer Calvin?"
"I don't understand. How do you know me?"
"Come. Sit. We'll talk. I'll answer all of your questions. I promise. Would you like
some coffee? A drink?"
"A good stiff drink sounds good. Do you have any..."
"Scotch. Of course. Please, make yourself comfortable."
I sit . . . uncomfortably. I look at my watch. 9:41. Eight minutes, exactly. What am I
doing here?
"Relax. Enjoy." I take the scotch. Straight up, just as I like it. But he didn't ask.
"To new friends." He raises his glass. We drink. Black Label, my favorite. It burns in
my throat and all the way down into my empty stomach. The knot turns to fire. It
clears my head.
"To begin with, I am known as Tom. Thomas Meade. I, too, am aware. I call myself,
Spenz. I know you have many questions. I have asked you here tonight so that I may
answer them for you. But I assure you that as you listen to what I say, you will know
that deep down inside, you already knew everything I am about to tell you. If you will
just allow me to speak, you will understand.
"The truth is that I have known of you for the last six months. I have been watching
and listening from a distance, until the time was right when you were ready to listen.
"First of all, you will have to forget everything you ever learned about the history of
mankind, Darwin's Theory of Evolution, and any religious beliefs that you may have.
Above all, keep an open mind. And listen. And know that I speak the truth. The Truth.
That is what you have been searching for, is it not? Whatever it may be? Are they not
the words that you, yourself, used?"
All I can do is nod my head.
"About 40,000 years ago our species inhabited the moon of the fifth planet orbiting the
sun. In our non-corporeal state, we lived the equivalent of about 2,000 earth years.
We were knowledgeable of the inhabitants of the fifth planet. They were destructive,
self-serving fools, yet we lived in peace. They discovered nuclear energy and nuclear
bombs. Inevitably they went to war among themselves.
"One day, the planet exploded sending the moon, our world, hurtling through space
towards the sun. The force of the explosion was such that our world went careering
through the gravitational pull of the fourth planet and crashing into the third.
"Only a few hundred of us survived the impact. The moon itself scattered over much
of the planet. Our world no longer existed. We were stranded. Forced to survive on
this alien planet. The landscape, higher temperatures and higher gravitational pull
were harmful to our non-corporeal state. One by one, we began to die.
"Out of desperation, we joined with one of the many alien life forms on the planet. It
was our only hope for survival. The joining brought with it a broader perception of the
world around us. For the first time, we could touch and feel. We could see with better
clarity and color. We breathed . . . we tasted . . . we lived.
Within a few short years, these alien bodies died. We could not make them survive
any longer. We passed on to another. And lived."
He pauses and pours another two drinks.
"Do not think that we are parasites, feeding off the body we inhabit. I can assure you,
nothing could be further from the truth. In joining, the alien also benefited. We gave it
purpose. We gave it a mind. It began to think and create and grow. Together, we are
mutualistic. Symbiotic. Separate but harmoniously joined.
"However, we pay the price. We lose ourselves. Our consciousness is repressed.
The human brain must learn . . . to speak . . . to read . . . to remember. It cannot
acknowledge our presence. It develops a consciousness of its own. We are not
strong enough to overcome this barrier. It usually takes fifteen or more passes before
we can assert ourselves. Most of us never become aware.
"You are no doubt wondering how long we survive. We are not immortal. On average,
we pass twenty-five times. About 1,000 years. Then we rise into the effluvium and join
with the world around us. We become a part . . . of everything.
"I have passed twenty-seven times. I have survived for 1,120 years. I will not pass
again. That is why I have brought you here tonight.
"There is no evidence of our non-corporeal life on this planet. We leave nothing
behind. Except our memories. I am one of the Keepers of the Knowledge. Each one of
us has the same duty. To pass on the Knowledge. You are now a Keeper. My duty is
done. I can now rise, in peace. It is now your duty. When you have reached your last
passing, you will know it. You will then find another who is aware and pass the
knowledge on. It is all we have. The Knowledge. Guard it."
I am speechless.
He continues, as he stands, "You still have questions. I have no more answers. All of
your answers are inside of you. Seek them out. Trust yourself."
He leads me to the door. Shakes my hand. "Goodbye, Maali. I know I have chosen
well. Remember, trust yourself."
© 1996 Bobbie Ann Pimm
side. The other side of consciousness.
It takes long to become aware. You must earn it. Over many lifetimes. You know joy
and ecstasy. And pain and torment. And accept it all, as part of learning. And growing.
Here and now, Bronx, NY - 2001, I am Calvin Grant, a man. Twenty-six years in this life.
I have been a man many times. A woman, many times. I have lived long. And died
young -- once before I was born. I have always been -- Maali (Muh-AHL-lee). That is
what I call myself. It is the name I heard when I became aware.
That was a year ago. This time. This is my second awareness. I became aware the
first time in my last life. At thirty-two. I was a woman called Lisa. She died shortly
after awareness.
Crossing the street one day in April 1971, she was hit by a bus. She was in a coma for
many weeks and never regained consciousness. At least not to those who were at
her bedside. With her consciousness subdued, I became aware. Of myself. Maali.
Within a short time, the body gave in to the trauma and died.
I recall a peaceful darkness overtaking me. When I awoke, I was surrounded by a
golden light and perceived others around me, though I saw no one. Then I was pulled
into darkness and alone.
And then -- "Maali." I (Calvin) was sitting at my desk, daydreaming. Again, "Maali." I
heard it - and yet -- I didn't hear it. At least, not with my ears. It came from within.
From inside my brain somewhere. My phone rang and disturbed me. I didn't think of it
again until I laid in bed that night. In the dark silence, it came again, "Maali." And I
understood. I am Maali. That was a year ago. Since then I have been pondering and
searching. Reading and meditating. Looking for answers to questions that I wasn't
sure of. And still am. Searching for the truth. Whatever it may be.
At first, I tried explaining myself to others. My best friend. My co-workers. Strangers
in a bar. They just looked at me askance. Or sympathized, "We're all looking for the
truth." No one understood. When my boss suggested I see the company therapist, I
decided that I should keep it to myself. Am I crazy? Am I a freak?
I tried not listening. It didn't work. Questions still ran through my mind. Who am I?
Why am I here? Am I really who I think I am? Does anybody really know me? Voices
from within. I'm intelligent. I read. I know what they call people who hear voices that
no one else hears. Schizophrenic. Am I crazy?
»»»»»«««««»»»»»«««««»»»»»«««««
I took a month off from work and rented a cottage in the Catskills. Peace. Tranquility.
Time. Nothing but time. To think. To question. To answer. To question more. And
more.
Am I crazy?
The third night, hypnotized by a roaring fire, I recalled another life. Sean. The following
afternoon, swaying on the hammock, Susan. In all, I recalled twelve previous lives.
Five males. Seven females. Vivid, sensory memories. Of places. People. Pain.
Happiness. Tears fell from my eyes while remembering holding my husband in my
arms as he died. I was Elizabeth. It was 1902. He died of consumption.
In my first life, I was a boy named Ponti, a Navajo. That was before the white man
came to America. At six years old, I died from a snake bite. Even now, I tremble and
sweat at the sight of a snake. Until now, I never understood why.
Now I am back. Sitting at my desk. Preparing myself for a meeting with a new client.
And still my mind wanders. All that I have remembered has only brought more
questions. What does it mean? Does a part of us reincarnate? Will I live forever? Do
I want to? Am I imagining all of this? Am I the only one?
Life's everyday problems - money, dating, job - seem so unimportant in comparison.
Where do I really fit in the scheme of things? What is the whole picture? What about
God? Is He a part of this? Never being a religious man - this is truly a big question for
me. Have I been wrong all this time? Or is everyone else wrong? No answers. Only
silence. My head hurts. I take two Tylenol and a swig of cold coffee.
»»»»»«««««»»»»»«««««»»»»»«««««
"Maali."
I look behind to see who called my name. No one is there.
"Maali," a voice. Coming from where? The street is empty. "You will not see me. I
am not there."
I hear the voice from inside -- but not like before. This voice is different. Tentatively, I
answer, "Where are you? Who are you?"
"All your questions will be answered, soon. Turn right at the next corner."
"How do you know my name? How can I hear you?"
"Why do you ask questions when you know the answers? Turn right at the next
corner."
"Telepathy? How? How do I know you mean me no harm? Why should I listen?"
"If you truly seek the truth, you will trust yourself and turn right at the next corner."
I turn right.
"Excellent. Turn left at the light and go to 3231. I will answer no more questions, till
you are here. See you in eight minutes."
I look at my watch. 9:33. My head tells me I should be scared. Of what? Exactly. Who
knows what? But my gut tells me there is nothing to fear. He said, "Trust yourself."
The light is four blocks away. I turn left. The building on the corner reads 3039. I walk
on . . . 3087 . . . 3121 . . . I look at my watch. 9:37. Doubt creeps in once more. What
am I doing? Following directions from voices in my head. Call Bellevue. Send the men
with the white jackets, before it's too late. I walk on . . . 3155 . . . 3191 . . .. My stomach
is in a knot. I walk on . . . 3213 . . . 3231. I look at my watch. 9:40. A minute early. I
walk into the vestibule. Look at the doorbells. Which one?
The buzzer rings. I go in and walk to the stairs. I reach out with my mind, "Which
apartment?" No reply. Two flights up, I stop. Somehow I know this is the floor. Four
doors. "Which one?" No reply. Closing my eyes, I turn to the right and take two steps.
I raise my hand to knock . . . the door opens in front of me.
"Maali. Come in. Or do you prefer Calvin?"
"I don't understand. How do you know me?"
"Come. Sit. We'll talk. I'll answer all of your questions. I promise. Would you like
some coffee? A drink?"
"A good stiff drink sounds good. Do you have any..."
"Scotch. Of course. Please, make yourself comfortable."
I sit . . . uncomfortably. I look at my watch. 9:41. Eight minutes, exactly. What am I
doing here?
"Relax. Enjoy." I take the scotch. Straight up, just as I like it. But he didn't ask.
"To new friends." He raises his glass. We drink. Black Label, my favorite. It burns in
my throat and all the way down into my empty stomach. The knot turns to fire. It
clears my head.
"To begin with, I am known as Tom. Thomas Meade. I, too, am aware. I call myself,
Spenz. I know you have many questions. I have asked you here tonight so that I may
answer them for you. But I assure you that as you listen to what I say, you will know
that deep down inside, you already knew everything I am about to tell you. If you will
just allow me to speak, you will understand.
"The truth is that I have known of you for the last six months. I have been watching
and listening from a distance, until the time was right when you were ready to listen.
"First of all, you will have to forget everything you ever learned about the history of
mankind, Darwin's Theory of Evolution, and any religious beliefs that you may have.
Above all, keep an open mind. And listen. And know that I speak the truth. The Truth.
That is what you have been searching for, is it not? Whatever it may be? Are they not
the words that you, yourself, used?"
All I can do is nod my head.
"About 40,000 years ago our species inhabited the moon of the fifth planet orbiting the
sun. In our non-corporeal state, we lived the equivalent of about 2,000 earth years.
We were knowledgeable of the inhabitants of the fifth planet. They were destructive,
self-serving fools, yet we lived in peace. They discovered nuclear energy and nuclear
bombs. Inevitably they went to war among themselves.
"One day, the planet exploded sending the moon, our world, hurtling through space
towards the sun. The force of the explosion was such that our world went careering
through the gravitational pull of the fourth planet and crashing into the third.
"Only a few hundred of us survived the impact. The moon itself scattered over much
of the planet. Our world no longer existed. We were stranded. Forced to survive on
this alien planet. The landscape, higher temperatures and higher gravitational pull
were harmful to our non-corporeal state. One by one, we began to die.
"Out of desperation, we joined with one of the many alien life forms on the planet. It
was our only hope for survival. The joining brought with it a broader perception of the
world around us. For the first time, we could touch and feel. We could see with better
clarity and color. We breathed . . . we tasted . . . we lived.
Within a few short years, these alien bodies died. We could not make them survive
any longer. We passed on to another. And lived."
He pauses and pours another two drinks.
"Do not think that we are parasites, feeding off the body we inhabit. I can assure you,
nothing could be further from the truth. In joining, the alien also benefited. We gave it
purpose. We gave it a mind. It began to think and create and grow. Together, we are
mutualistic. Symbiotic. Separate but harmoniously joined.
"However, we pay the price. We lose ourselves. Our consciousness is repressed.
The human brain must learn . . . to speak . . . to read . . . to remember. It cannot
acknowledge our presence. It develops a consciousness of its own. We are not
strong enough to overcome this barrier. It usually takes fifteen or more passes before
we can assert ourselves. Most of us never become aware.
"You are no doubt wondering how long we survive. We are not immortal. On average,
we pass twenty-five times. About 1,000 years. Then we rise into the effluvium and join
with the world around us. We become a part . . . of everything.
"I have passed twenty-seven times. I have survived for 1,120 years. I will not pass
again. That is why I have brought you here tonight.
"There is no evidence of our non-corporeal life on this planet. We leave nothing
behind. Except our memories. I am one of the Keepers of the Knowledge. Each one of
us has the same duty. To pass on the Knowledge. You are now a Keeper. My duty is
done. I can now rise, in peace. It is now your duty. When you have reached your last
passing, you will know it. You will then find another who is aware and pass the
knowledge on. It is all we have. The Knowledge. Guard it."
I am speechless.
He continues, as he stands, "You still have questions. I have no more answers. All of
your answers are inside of you. Seek them out. Trust yourself."
He leads me to the door. Shakes my hand. "Goodbye, Maali. I know I have chosen
well. Remember, trust yourself."
© 1996 Bobbie Ann Pimm
