I have lived many lives and, consequently, died many deaths. After my thirty-third incarnation, I was gifted the treasure of continuity. That meant that my memories no longer perished with my body. This allowed hard-won lessons to be kept. As a king, I remembered what it was to be a witch and spared them the pyre. Then they were there to heal when the sickness came, unlike other kingdoms who had turned their healers to ash.
As a warrior, I remembered being slain by the children of those I had slain. So, I ceased mercy for the children of the fallen and lived longer due to the lives cut short, not even sparing the unborn whose fingers would otherwise grow to grasp a sword whose blade would thirst for my blood.
As a high priest, I witnessed the eternal cost of flexing one’s will against that of the gods. No victor emerges from a fight against oneself. All that falls in such a conflict are the masks that blind us to ourselves and our true paths.
As a hunter, I learned that you must care for the prey you kill with the tenderness of a parent towards a child. As a farmer, I learned to see the world not as it is, but as it is becoming. Growth cannot be measured in a moment, but rather the interlocking spans of many lives.
As a guard, I learned that hours of vigilance can be spoiled by an instant of inattention. As a thief, I learned that opportunity only beckons those who have the eyes for it.
As a young man, I learned that an elder’s strength does not wane, but moves to their spirit. As an elder, I learned that to be unyielding is not strength, but the brittleness that can cause mountains to fall.
What feet will I stand on for this incarnation? What cunning and guile will infuse me? I felt myself undergo the indignities of the birth process and felt the kiss of my newest mother’s tongue cleansing my fur. Was I a lion? A bear? I could feel substantial claws upon my feet and teeth in my mouth.
I caught sight of my reflection in my mother’s eye. I am a bunny. Why did the universe send me here? Well, with our only natural defenses being speed and the ability to dig, my knowledge of how to construct fortified defenses in both the first and second world wars allowed me to put my fellows’ prodigious digging abilities to use in providing substantial fortifications.
I explained that humans kill rabbits because we are delicious and because they believe in a weird idea called “property.” I explained that if we grew our own crops right on the fencelines, they would escape being called “property” and would return to being called carrots and peas and cabbages and such. We did, and they did, and we all flourished. Before dying, I scratched these words above my tomb: “I am bunny.”
