On Evohe, we think of ages differently than I have found humans do. We celebrate our own Cycle Days–that being the day we were bloomed and born into the waking-world–and those of others. We know that at a certain age, when one begins one’s Becoming and our body begins the Change that will allow us to participate in bringing new life into the world, we pass from being bloomlings into being seed-youths and seed-maidens. Motherhood or fatherhood is yet another stage along life’s Wheel. But we do not assign arbitrary lines and specifics to these stages; rather, they flow like music, the way we ourselves flow through the melodies and measures that are our own lives.
I am now twenty-two cycles old, strictly speaking. I went to my rest–some would say I ‘died’–for the first time when I was barely twenty cycles old; when mine and Holder’s two children were newly born But that is yet another thing that is different between my kind and humankind. What Holder’s people call ‘death’ is, for us, only a stage to be passed through, a rest that we take in the waking-world a number of times before the final passage from this life into what waits beyond. I have seen what lies beyond the shores of the spirit-river, and I will not fear it when I must return.
When one knows life as a dance of sunlight and stardust, what is age but a number, and what is time but a song to be danced to?
Still, I believe it is a song to be treasured, and I celebrate each day when I may rise and sing that song again, for even a single measure more.
I would not have imagined, when I was a bloomling, how early the First Ones would call me to the far shores of the Essei-Khai, or how unprepared I would be to leave my friends, my beloved mate, and my own bloomlings behind me.
And for that reason I write this to you: do not worry about the number of your days. Celebrate each new sunrise and each new Cycle’s coming as a thing of joy, but do not count them, striking them away as if they were chores to be accomplished. Treat them instead as gifts given by ones you love, and who love you. And share them with those you love, and who love you–for that is exactly what they are.
Sing songs of life to one another, and invite each other to add to the melody of your own days.
Make the turning of your days a song worth remembering. I do not know if any beyond my own loved ones will remember the song of my life when I have gone to take my rest for the final time. But that does not matter so much to me. What matters, I have learned, is how well I sing it now, and how many others I invite to share in the singing.