the history of age

this was inspired by nicole krauss's the history of love as well as my new obsession with age and dying and the elderly. everytime i go into a barnes and noble, i pick up the tibetan book of living and dying and i read excerpts of it. (i also listen to buddhist chants.) i have a secret fantasy; one of becoming a monk and guiding those who fear into revelation and utmost clarity. i am afraid myself so this fantasy warrants no prospects, but in a parallel universe, i hope it does.

"it used to be that everyone lived forever. age had not been invented yet, and time was mastered like building a house of cards. our paces moved mountains and our voices controlled the wind. we gathered high spirits to hold on to. there was a girl who couldn't hold her own spirit; she stretched it so thin it matched her obscure youth. her spirit expanded and manifested itself into distance. the girl walked on her spirit like a plank, always seeming to chase herself on the limitless span. eon after eon, she kept going. she picked up hardest rock from a steaming bed of magma and she drank from the clearest stream aside the vastest valley. she rode on the lightest clouds and she ate the most tender mangoes. she jumped into the deepest hole and she watched the smallest ocean turn into the largest ocean. she had built the tallest house of cards. soon she wondered where everybody went. the organic feeling caused her to frown. without reason and without direction, she began backtracking for eons and eons. she got back to where she started: a place where mountains are moved and spirits are held. where is everyone she wondered. she ran up to the highest summit and she swam to the deepest trenches, but everyone was gone. when she turned around, she saw her her spirit receding. hello she yelled. she was alone. she sat on a rock and threw her face into her hands. she began to feel time. she began to feel it slipping away. her spirit was no longer tangible. what used to exude into life now rested in dreams and hope. crows feet stretched across her face. her hair thinned and grayed. her lips sank in and her vision blurred. soon mountains began to move, and she felt a windy chill. in the distance she thought. she moved her face away from her wet palms, and saw a stream of colorful spirits receding from the horizon. she saw them drawing nearer and nearer and she saw silhouettes growing bigger and bigger. when everyone returned, they rejoiced. no one was alone anymore, and no one was as raw."