The Promise

"What do you want your talent to be?" he asks me.

I look up, nonchalant and say, "Words." The sun beams brightly against my cheek and I close my eyes to embrace it.

"Words?" he says, slightly surprised, "Not music, or the gift of motion?"

"No," I say, "I want to warm their hearts with words. I'd like that to be my talisman."

He laughs, and stretches out his hand to help me up. "A poet!" he exclaims with delight, "How marvelous! An excellent choice."

"Or a story teller," I interrupt, "I could be a story teller."

"Indeed, you could." he smiles. I can feel his pride. We walk side by side for a while through the celestial gardens and take a seat at a fountain. A woman approaches.

"She's chosen words," he relays to her as she nears closer.

"Ah," she says and sits down beside me. She brushes away a stray strand of hair from my forehead. "Words are very powerful" she states. "You will see that when you are down there."

"I'm looking forward to it," I tell her defiantly. The begin to talk in an inaudible tone -- one reserved for more supreme beings; and so, I start to cartwheel in the garden until they are done. My hands are cushioned by the daisies that grow wild around us. I hope I remember to cartwheel when I am down there.

"Words it is!" he proclaims and motions me to return to their small gathering. I walk towards them, my white gown flowing just below my knees. The sun beats warmly on my skin. I take a seat between them on the fountain's edge and strum my finger along the water's surface so I can watch the sun's reflection split in kaleidoscopic fashion. I begin to become entranced with the water.

"Child!" he calls firmly, "Pay attention!".

I sit up and refocus on the two of them, now standing before me. "The gift of words is not something we give to spirits as young as yourself -- for many reasons. One, you do not have the benefit of experience to not be significantly affected by words; for whatever talent you have will conversely make you increasingly sensitive to its use, and misuse by others."

I nod so he knows that he has my full attention. I realize that I've chosen a gift above, perhaps, what I deserve -- but it spoke true to my heart. My hope was that if the Great Creator could see the authenticity of my calling; that he would grant me my talent.

"The second," he continues more sternly with a locked gaze directed to the centre of my heart, "is that it is very easy to get lost with this talent. Many before you have ceased to return. Words are a poweful talisman; and many have fallen victim their darker components."

He pauses. I don't know if he expects me to sit silently or respond. So I choose to respond, "I won't stray," I begin, "I'll use my talent to remind the people who they really are."

There's an awkward moment of silence. The Beings converse in an inaudible tone -- one I hope to be able to hear clearer when I return.

The woman looks at me and says, "We will grant you this talent because your heart is pure; but you must be aware of how powerful it is. You must never use it to control or manipulate -- you must be wary of the Ego at all times. All your persuassion must come from the centrality of your being -- from a pure place of love and happiness. Do you understand?"

"I understand," I say matter-of-fact.

"Very well, then" he says, and stands. They link arms and walk away. And so, I continue to do cartwheels near the fountain until it is time for my descent.