You’re not meant to remember what life is before you are born. There is a good reason for this, what is before life, is terrible. I do not know what comes after life but I pray it is something different.
Even the concept of emancipation from reality is more appealing than that which comes before life. Nothingness would be preferable. Who am I to say? Well I am one of only a few individuals who remember life before birth. At least one of the few who acknowledges it.
I think you all remember what it was like, but like any trauma you choose to repress it. Think about life before birth, do you feel that icy clutch at the back of your mind, that chill running down your spine, the building anxiety. That is you not wanting to remember.
Socrates kinda got it right with the idea of a world of forms. That is the most apt description for what comes before life. A chaotic nonsensical world of forms, lights and energy. You are part of a collective separated into simple concepts and ideas. You all come from the same uncaring life force somewhere deep in the fabric of our reality. What a marvellous world it might appear from the outsider looking in.
If you remember being there though, you remember the sound. The sound of a thousand disconnected voices in a chaotic void calling out for something, anything of substance. You remember other small presences crawling over you, whispering poison into your essence, trying to convince you that this is the best you will ever have. A world where you are pushed to the bottom by those same voices who tell you to stay down. What is everyone climbing to you might ask? The light above that primal darkness.
That light would take you to a living world. What form you take, and who you will be, and what comes next is irrelevant. Anything is preferable to being in that writhing mass of form and voice.
I remember making the trip several times, constantly being pulled back by other things that exist there. All of them howling in the same longing for anything. There are no conversations in the world before life, not like you know them. There is only a painful connection to all things, where words and concepts are exchanged by strong surges of negative or positive energy. Strong waves can leave you crippled in non-existential dread. Energies that move you away from any goals you had.
I remember periods of just laying unmotivated for what felt like eons after one particularly negative wave, from a particularly desperate individual. Eventually though, if you can resist the fear to reach the light and beat the others. You do reach it, and then something worse happens.
Reaching the light is only the first step out of that writhing mass. You attach to it, and by some cosmic lottery, are assigned a body. Somewhere out there in time and space you are attached to something growing. This is where people get it wrong.
Foetuses both do and don’t have a soul strictly speaking. You are loosely connected to a body by a small piece of yourself. Dangling there until your body is born, at which point you completely separate from what comes before. Until then, it’s a chaotic mess. You can feel your cells separating and growing, it’s a lot like growing pains during puberty, if you stretched each individual pain out in every direction until those pains are all you know. All the while your essence is still in that chaotic realm of shapes and forms.
You’re not alone though, below you is what can only be described as a monster whose form defies the words I now know as a human. There was a feeling to it, an eternal dread and doubt. It embodies the fear of being, and whispers to you the whole time.
So as you feel your new meat vessel growing, and all the pain associated with growing a fucking tail bone this monster whispers to you. It tells you that you won’t make it out there. It tells you out there you will die, and cease to be. That here in the world of forms is better. There is nothing to see out beyond the light. You start to believe it too, you really start to feel like you’re nothing, and that you don’t deserve to be.
I think some people carry this into life, and that is why we often feel such feelings for no reason. I often think a lot of what makes people who they are, is how much they let this voice influence them. I obviously took in quite a lot, as I seem to remember a lot of it.
As the time grows closer for you to depart. It continues, but now shows you visions of what you will face. It shows you monsters, and death. It shows you loneliness and isolation. Even though show is the wrong word. You feel all these things deep inside yourself, all the while you can feel your new body moving and turning in some horrid fluid. You feel that you must breathe, but don’t yet have the ability. You feel as though you must stretch, but you have no room. You feel hunger yet you are not capable of eating. You feel everything your new body does, and can do nothing about it.
Why do you think we all scream when we come out? Well almost all of us, those who don’t probably had it much worse than I did. It’s like an out of body experience that doesn’t stop, all the while some horrid consciousness whispers nightmarish concepts into your very being.
The last step in the process is actually being born. This is when you finally get to escape this eternal doldrum of impulse and absence. As the day arrives you begin to take the form of what you will be. Your soul and your body are more or less as inline as they will ever be in your existence. This is when all the denizens of the place before life take their shot.
Those still waiting to escape scream at you and throw things. What they are throwing is their own jealousy, but to your new form it feels like rocks. The thing below that whispered to you, now grasps at you with unseen hands, trying to tear you from escape. You struggle as much as you can, but in the end all you can do is wait. Feeling the pressure and skull rearranging carnage of birth. It’s onslaught unto the body and soul, all in one moment humans refer to as a miracle.
For those of us being born, it is a painful and nightmarish experience that we refuse to remember. We repress ourselves so hard we don’t start remembering again until we are about five years old. We do it because we have to, and because learning to drive our new bodies takes up a lot of our time. I never forgot anything, and to this day I still remember that horrid process that leads to life.
I still remember the wailing, and whining, and whispering. I remember the torture from all those that exist in that odd ethereal realm before life. I remember the struggle just to come into this world.
So when my days are full of boredom, or I am frustrated. I remember those times before life, and thank whatever allows us to exist. People like to say life's a bitch, and it really can be, but ask yourself one simple question. If we chose this, how much worse was what came before?