For our first post on Jamaa's forgotten history, I have a rendition of the classic story of the beginning. the Story, in fact. As with any good story, it's a little different upon each retelling. So let us begin...
For every world, dimension, and universe there exists a story of how it came to be. Sometimes there are many stories, and sometimes there is just one. Our Jamaa is of the latter kind, and our one story has been passed down for generations by those who treasure the mystery it holds. And I'm here to tell it to you today...
Once upon a time, or perhaps before time, there was nothing. And then, there was something. I'm no expert on creation, I really can't say how it all works. But that something, it thought. And that something, it called itself Zios. It appeared to be male in our eyes, as we later decided, though I don't believe universe creating deities have a gender. He, she, or it created it though, the universe.
Zios created many stars and planets, and set them in motion. His creatures, his children, grew and flourished in their many worlds, and he loved them all. But that did not fill the emptiness in his metaphorical heart. So Zios created his greatest masterpiece: from the essence of all beauty, kindness, and hope. From the spellbinding tails of fiery comets and the brightest centers of ancient stars.
We know of this second deity as Mira, a spirit who often takes the form of a grey heron. She is the epitome of what is good in our universe. She and Zios were happy together in their boundless world, and she was the inspiration for his final work: Jamaa. The world emerged from the boundaries of the impossible, and became the probable – beginning to grow and evolve into someplace special.
The oceans and the sky, the mountains and the meadows. Plants and animals, magic and mystery, homes and journeys, beauty and light. They created all things good, and breathed life into their world.
The first of every animal, the alpha, was chosen by Mira, and so prepared the world for the coming of their kind, and told the stories of the great spirits in the sky. As time passed. the jamaasians of the world looked up at the bright sky of day and saw Mira, the Sky mother, and looked up at the dark sky of night and saw Zios, the Sky Father.
And some remembered them.
Where these spirits are now is a story for another time. Why jammers seem to have forgotten them? Also a story in its own way. Our ancient texts were scattered to the wind by changed values of the citizens of Jamaa. Change isn't always bad, but we must try to hold onto our past, if only to learn from the messages it holds.
Some dismiss such legends as silly, childish, unimportant, or simply untrue. Yet a fine lines exists between such extreme labels and their counterparts. Who is to say what is true or untrue? We cannot tell one another what to believe. What is true for you is up to you, and you alone. However, I ask you not to decide upon what you feel by simply following what your eyes can observe.
Seeing a spirit isn't quite possible. Seeing Zios is like seeing time, watching a mystery unfold, or witnessing a beginning and end in the same moment. A spirit exists in the world around us. Mira is in the shine of distant stars, the happiness in a pup's laugh, and the love between family and friends. Within our hearts.
So what is this story in the end? Just a story to be told around a warm fire with good friends. It is here to remind us of the mystery and wonder in the world, and of things yet unknown.
Until next time.
And some remembered them.
Until next time.
