A Taste of My Work

Larger Than Life

By Morgen Marshall

This work and all parts of it are copyrighted by the author. No part may be copied or reproduced in any form without express and written consent by the creator/author.
Featured image by Kirsten Justesen, National Museum of Women in the Arts.

She came to in a bright room. She knew she didn’t want to be there. This was a dungeon; a torture chamber, for one of her kind. She didn’t know who she was or where she was, but it felt “wrong” on all counts. She was so much bigger than this little container could hold. She was so uncomfortable. She screamed, she cried. No one seemed to hear her. Or if they did, they ignored her.

Several little beings tried poking and prodding her, folding her being into a smaller and smaller container until one could pick her up and carry her around. She was so squeezed into the container that she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t even breathe.

Fast forward and the container had enlarged. They called it “growing” but she was still squished into it. Nobody seemed to notice. They all seemed comfortable in their containers, yet she could see that some of them were squished in like she was.

Fast forward again. Her container had been manipulated by others to the point that she hated it. It felt violated, twisted and abused. It hurt everywhere. She hurt everywhere. By now, she identified with the container; was not her “self” anymore. She was morose, brooding and angry. She didn’t know why.

Complacency set in. She seemed to be resigned to her fate. To be sure, she acted out every now and then, but she didn’t hurt herself or others in the process too much. Everything seemed pretty static, normal. Maintenance for her container was deferred or done badly. Some steps were skipped completely, others were done incorrectly or the wrong fluids and parts put in place if what was supposed to be there. Nobody noticed. She “grew” larger.

Around this time, she became aware that she was more than the container she was in. She didn’t have all the information yet, but her memory was returning. She could “see” beyond the little world she’d been squeezed into, and was becoming angry again. She still couldn’t breathe.

Eventually, the care and nurturing of her container fell to her and she continued the misinformed routines for a while. By the time she knew what she was doing wrong, the damage to her systems had been done. She was locked into a series of breakdowns that would escalate until her unit stopped working. It didn’t need to be that way, she knew, but she didn’t have the tools and equipment she needed to do the major overhaul necessary to rebuild the unit. She decided to do the best she could and carry on. There wasn’t much else to do, really.

One day, she became aware of her container, the unit she was in, with a difference. It was like she woke up and realized that her unit, the vehicle, was just that – a vehicle. It was leaky, creaky, and stiff in places. Some parts didn’t work right, but overall, it would have to suffice. As she became aware of the imminent breakdown of her unit, she also regained more of her memories. She began to create the things and situations to prolong her unit that she didn’t know before that she could make. She could make the parts that needed to be replaced. She could enlarge it, make it more comfortable, too. So she did.

She realized that she’d somehow asked for this situation, and would have to make the best of things. She realized that it was temporary but necessary. She couldn’t explain it to herself or others, but she knew it. She also realized that there was a reason she’d asked for it. She didn’t quite understand all of her reasoning yet, but she was remembering more every day. She knew she had a mission to complete.

She took her awareness and applied it to her surroundings. She saw the dents where her elbows had bumped the boundaries. She saw cracks. She focused on a couple of these, and they grew weaker, larger, more permeable. She concentrated on one of these and cracked open her surroundings. She sent her being out into the open: unbounded and unboundable.

As she oozed out of her container, she spread her love and energy in all directions through the widening crack. As she left the container, her life force flowed faster. Where her energy had been, she left behind a trail. This trail, this track, vibrated and lit the surrounding area. It glowed, pulsated and seemed alive.

And she turned around to look back. She realized that it was her. Everything was her: The container; the surroundings; the other beings.

Everything was her.

She. Was. Everything.

This work and all parts of it are copyrighted by the author. No part may be copied or reproduced in any form without express and written consent by the creator/author.