Star Woman in Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

acquainted with a lot of things long before life made me experience them. I taught myself to read and write, though my father insisted he was the one who helped me learn. But I deciphered the symbols of the alphabet myself. From a ripe young age, my memory would often be unfazed by the boundaries of time. I could even remember the day when I was born. And I could re-live it in my mind. There I was, being born! A human being! A girl! 
    It did take me a while to get out of that tunnel, and I didn’t know how to do it. After all, I was experiencing this ‘while’, something that I was utterly unfamiliar with, for the first time, pondering as I was whether I’d made the right decision or not. But everybody in this Galaxy knows that the right decision is the one you’ve made or else! Once you’re in matter, once you materialise, it does indeed take this strange currency called time to change your mind. And time is a traitor sometimes. It makes you forget who you are, why you’re here, who you’re here with, and so on and so forth.
    So there I was, having been stuck like a cork in a bottle for seventy-two hours, when at last, the full moon my accomplice, the final pull (that was actually my mum’s pushing) took me to the light. Born into sight of this world, into sight of the Earth. The Earth Game had started properly sometime in May the year before. I was born on Lovers’ Day, as I had intended, except that my consciousness had shrunk to such a tiny point I couldn’t remember any of this. I was a bundle of confusion, chaos, cells, a bombardment of sensations. In a second I couldn’t remember who I was, let alone the fact that I had decided to incarnate to find my Other Half, my Shadow Self, my Soul Mate, my Twin Soul, the King of my Alchemical Marriage.
    Having been born a girl, I was the Queen (looking for the King), though things are not so neatly gender-defined in matters of the Soul. Looking meant making, or something along these lines. I half-remembered that. Did looking mean making an angel? What did looking mean anyway? That was new. And hearing? How weird it all seemed through these channels of experience humans use to sense the world. It was so painful, wobbly! So limited, so different. Fragmented. I felt as if I was the whole of creation squeezed into a tiny form. All I could do was scream my lungs out. The entire Universe was in me, here, howling its shrieks.
    The thick dark hair on my head made me look like a mouse to my dad. But he was very happy and couldn’t hold back the tears when the nurse held me up in front of the window pane of the Birth Ward for him to see me. What I was thinking then was “Let go of the pain you’ve just experienced, let go, let go… forget, forget, forget… it’s worth nothing… that’s all there is to it… human… birth… one of the peak experiences to have… don’t cling to it… sure it’s your final life and you want to take your time…. But let go quickly or this pain will squirm through your heart… and squeeze out the memories of your True Identity... sleep, sweet one, sleep…” 
    Pain was easy to let go of way back then, as my body had no previous frame of reference to connect it to. Being human felt like something was missing from the very beginning. It was that ‘something’ I was here to find. The symbolism of human birth is remarkable: separation from the Source is expressed so violently... it hurts so much that we all forget it... Yet we are here to remember... Not an easy game, this life on Earth. Perhaps on some level the human predicament may seem like a pretty, yet sad ‘fairy tale’ type of a story. Hopeless, even. A search for wholeness in a world of separateness.
    Despite all the necessary difficulties that my human birth entailed, it was impossible for me to forget that I was here because of my choice. I knew I should remember that everything and everyone in my life was meant to remind me of me, that life reflected me back, and that