I am not alone. While most forget, some remember. One goal of many Mystery Traditions is to aim practitioners toward living a life conducive to remembering.
In Northern European Tradition, the Volva Witch is one who partakes of a stream of continuous consciousness and memory. I am a Volva, a witch in the Tradition of Witchcraft known by my ancestors as Fornekja (meaning "Ancient One").
In Torah, Serach (the granddaughter of Jacob) is also an Ancient One. In some Native American folklore, we are known as Star Children. I am not alone.
This poem I wrote nearly 3 decades ago, describing one of my memories of incarnating consciousness, in words familiar to the rational mind.
first rhythms ever plunge, eternal hosts driven into life
drawing through a field of topographic brilliance
where judgment lovingly flows, churning out whole stones
resting against asymmetries trying, like diamonds in chaos
proto-perception foams, over annihilating operations
and from it, dark bursts of lucidity finely entwine
coarse grains of almost something, almost yet sufficient
the silent rush of yet nothing slides, wildly as percolating pivots
diligently thread through it, casting clarity
upon myriads, hard pauses startle into vision
projecting arrays without mass, strings of confluency
impressing discovery, a shadowy tail-end lingers
between depths of opposite observation
iterating embraces of many meanings like quasi-quanta
gathering functions about the head and, and
spinning spectra, pushing forward, yearning toward home
not knowing, yet only knowing
as some featureless reach edging edges stretches out
the magnetic sweet dance
where divisions collapse like crystal caves
softly sprinkling the belly of the night divine
with bytes of thoughtbare kisses
extending the glorious field of apprehension