The First Life

There were once two boys. They were twins, and they had not yet been born. Growing from small, single cells, they soon became aware of themselves, each other and the world around them. They were glad, grateful to be alive, grateful to their Mother for giving them such a wonderful place to live and grow, praising her for allowing them to share in her existence. They were grateful for the food that came to them through their cord of life, and grateful for water of life that surrounded and supported them.

However, as time went by, the one asked the other if he thought there would be life after birth.

"Of course" the other replied. "Our life right now only serves to prepare us for birth. Our mother loves us and wants to see us, wants to hold us."

"Our Mother? How can you even be sure she exists? Have you ever seen her? Has she ever spoken to you? The 'Mother' is nothing but a tale from when we were younger, the only way we could explain the world around us. Surely you are now old enough to recognize that. Besides, even if there WAS a mother, how does that prove that there will be a life after birth? After birth, we will lose everything that gives us life! Where we will get our nourishment after we are separated from our cord? How could we survive without the water that surrounds us? Neither of us have ever seen or spoken to anyone who has been born. Clearly, after birth there is nothing. That is the end."

"But if there is no Mother, where did we come from? Besides, when things are quiet, I can hear her speak to me."

"You are just imagining that. You have bought into this fairy tale to such a degree that you are imagining the story to be true, and creating an alternate reality in your brain that supports your dreams."

While it was difficult to accept, the second brother could not give answers to these very well thought out questions. He continued to believe that he had a mother, but even he knew that he only did so because it was soothing, helped him to relax and calmed his fear. His belief, as he was constantly reminded by his brother, was nothing more than a coping mechanism to deal with his fear of birth. Nevertheless, both were determined to enjoy themselves while they still could, and life went on.

The days and weeks went by, and the two boys began to notice the changes that were taking place. Not just changes to themselves; their world seemed to be getting smaller and less hospitable. It was clear that the end was near, and birth was just around the corner. Each of them became more anxious, more afraid. The days passed in silence, and neither faith in the Mother nor the cool logical surety that she was a myth could calm them. They spoke to each other sadly, reminiscing about the good times, each sad to soon be losing his best and only friend.

Finally, the day arrived. As they were being born, each writhed in agony, desperately clinging to life. They came free from the comfortable cocoon. Coughing and screaming, each breathed deeply for the first time. In the harsh glare of the light, each struggled and finally opened their eyes, and were welcomed into the warm embrace of their Mother. For the first time, each of them--both the skeptic and the believer--knew what it meant to be alive, and knew what it meant to be loved.

And they were happy.

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n.b. I heard this parable last night, and wanted to share it. I am not the original author of this, but I also wasn't able to find a real source, so I wrote this particular version myself. I hope you like it.