The Tribes
Honouring Our Truths
Journey to Idia
Road to Recovery
Expression of Opinion
Art Gallery
Contact Us

Creation Myth

There is always that moment when life first exists, the change from void emptiness to the seeds of abundant life. The moment before is empty, no life, no sound, no colour, it simply is nothingness. The moment after, there comes the beginning, the start of something new. For life does not exist immediately full and vast, it begins, rather, with the seed of all that is to come, a seed that with tender care will grow into the worlds, the life, the sounds, smells and sights that we now experience. Before that moment what was it like, we will never know, we can not see into a time when there was no existence, no one can travel beyond time to where even time itself does not exist.

But we know that first came the blackness. That the once empty void was filled with black, for black is not nothing, it is black. The first colour, the first awareness is black. Black is the beginning and end of everything, it lives within us all. And the black lasted for centuries, or maybe just for a few seconds. The black was all. It filled the void and became all there was. Pure blackness without movement or sound, simply blackness, but the fullness was empty and there had to come more. Maybe centuries past, or was it just mere seconds. But soon she was born, pushed into the blackness from the Source, from that which all things come and to which all will return.

She stood in the blackness, letting it wrap tight around her, feeling her body floating freely in its mist. A new born child in adult form she saw only blackness and in its depths she saw the spark of life to come, the possibilities that would grow from this solid back. The images she saw in the blackness sparked a sad joy in her soul, the future she would bring but would never experience and with the music this bittersweet awareness brought her she danced. In this blackness she moved her naked body only to find it covered with layers of transparent gossamer and silk. With every movement she felt the fabric cascading over her and out into the blackness, and each sensation made her dance faster.

On the edges of the cloth grew, like tiny balls of energy they formed within the weave of the fabric, burning like fire within the threads. And then with a burst of light they flew from her, tiny balls of coloured white light. They flew through the black air, until stopped, embedded in its surface. Lights that then twinkled in their own dance, lights of white blue, yellow and red that would dance until the end of time. And yet the woman continued to dance, with a frenzied grace she flung her body in the semi darkness of the black, until exhausted she collapses.

And then with the sound of steel being ripped open a light of glaring brightness erupted into the darkness, making the black turn an unseeing white. More dark than the black before it, this new white engulfed everything until all had disappeared but for the whiteness that now was. Lifetimes past until the white began to rest and the once gaping rip became a smaller glowing hole, sending rays of white light into the blackness, showing the creation of the dance. When she was able to see again the woman looked up, towards the source of white.

Around her the white light showed the shapes of blackness, the creations of her dance, black objects in the blackness. But her eyes travelled on, lingering on the creations she looked to the light, and saw him. Standing by its brilliant white he stood, sword in hand. He who was her opposite and yet herself, same and different they faced each other. Lonely she hated his presence, solitary she wanted him near. She knew him, and she knew what would come, this was the beginning but it was the end, life and death wrapped together.

And with their first embrace came their last. This moment of pure passion that they both knew they were doomed to have, a moment of life that would end with their separation. A union of bodies, a merging of souls, this embrace the second beginning of all things. From their bodies, wrapped together moulded as one sprung forth the seed, the spark of life that would become their children, the seed that would ripen to be adult children. But even as they created their children they were unaware of the seeds' existence. Children of parents that would never know them, bound together as long as time existed and yet without ever knowing each other.

As they lay together, wrapped in each other's body, the distance between them grew.

"But I do not wish to leave you" came his response to the unspoken statement.

"But you know you must" and he knew she was right even as he would not believe it. To be separated now was an unacceptable certainty and he ached. The pain of losing what he never had brought him to tears and made him sink to his knees. Taking the sword he used to bring white to the blackness he plunged it into himself and ripped open his body. The cry of pain intense in its silence filled the worlds with sound, his cry of passionate grief filled the air, and from his stomach spilt his blood. Blood seeped into the world, into all the creation of his lover and everything it touched came to lifeless colour of vibrant hues. He bled colour into the world until his body was drained, and the once vibrant man was now ancient, the youth weeping out into the world from the wound he had created.

He left her then, his only love, the sole companion he would never again know. Leaving her in the heavens with the stars and blackness of her existence he returned to the land he had never known, his home yet to be visited. And there he resided, separated for all time from the one life he existed solely to be with. Mother and Father, lovers beyond measure, all things together always apart. They were the beginning and they create would bring the end. There he would cry for the love he knew but could never have, and she would forever reach down to what she knew she must never again touch.