day 0

This is a frightening suggestion:

Either we have never left the womb or we left our wombs to enter a bigger one.











"I open my eyes to face darkness, blood, flesh or simply to hear my cries that no one hears -- Hence, I kick."

"I'm glad I was blind or I just didn't have the cognitive ability to recognise my surroundings. If not, the womb would have been a really scary place."

"The kick, the involuntarily movement, the body moves without full organs - those are the responses to our enclosed existence."

We are yet to be born. I don't want to be born!

"Space is a scary place. I don't know where to see."




Maybe there is another suggestion implicit in the first suggestion:
We have already left Plato's cave when we are born - the fearsome place to be next is God's universe.

"I can't help but relate all my actions in this new place as a toddler's kicks and cries."

I don't dare to be born, and yet I am.

"Now I know why I cringe and look away when I stare into hundreds and hundreds of holes all in one place; I am in awe and fear when I stare into the infinite sky of millions and millions of stars, visible and invisible, twinkling regardless of their deaths."

And finally, when we die, we do not enter another womb but find ourselves in a similar situation as in a womb - in a coffin buried, as ashes in a container or simply residue floating or spread around in this world.

The difference, though, is that we do not lie await in a specific womb; but the house of our souls is another infinite darkness, waiting for our wildest dreams to seem like poor representations, and we will experience what it must have felt like to be in our mother's womb - utterly helpless, utterly safe and unaware of what is to come. Except this time sleep does not happen and we repeat infinitely the kicks and cries of an infant who cannot choose his or her birth.

I sleep that I may participate prematurely and belatedly my stay in a dark womb.