I remember.
I remember sunlight on the golden hair of my sister as she rode into the stable, where I was mucking stalls.
I remember running through the forest, bow in hand, seeking signs of fresh game.
I remember setting a long table for a meal, with other children, our movements smooth with long practice, the older children directing the younger. At that time, I was one of the younger.
I remember an inn or tavern to the southwest, two or three days journey. The food is rich, creamy… somewhere between a soup and a gravy, almost like a pot-pie… heavy with a barley-like grain and other vegetables as well as thick chunks of a venison-like meat, served in a trough formed by partially hollowing a loaf of bread. It was eaten with carved wooden spoons, small and curved into shapes reminiscent of the shells of the common mussel (Mytilus edulis). I find myself drawn to food that reminds me of it, still.
I remember dancing with a rippling blade of sky-blue metal, like a mountain lake reflecting a clear sky in summer. The blade felt warm and alive in my hands as I moved, our motions flowing together with the deep inner Song of the land. We did not move to some fixed pattern, but in constant relation to the world around us, physical and nonphysical, what is and what may be. It is a skill I am trying to relearn.
I remember wearing a coat of chain mail armor, with rings as small and fine as a fish’s scales. Looking out from the breast of the mail is the image of a stag’s head, somehow set in three dimensions within the metal like a hologram. It seems to face the viewer no matter what angle they view it from, the stag’s eyes almost staring through you.
I remember a boy, wounded and delirious with fever in the rare moments he regained consciousness. His horse had led me to him, and I remember carefully gathering him up and taking him back home with me, entrusting him to my father and elder sister for medical care. I remember pacing around, nervous as a new father, waiting for news of his condition.
I remember a narrow stone bridge over a large underground lake or river. The cavern was immense, and not entirely natural… along with the bridge itself, excavation had been done into it, making branching shafts that honeycombed the walls of the cavern.
I remember these things, and others which are not my story alone to tell.
I remember Alorya.
Dimension Bomb
Technobushi’s Blog
New Room 
Jarandhel Dreamsinger on 
Rua on 
Liryen on 
I’m glad you shared these. I don’t have similar memories, or have not yet managed to recover them yet.
You’re welcome
I’ve been trying to get around to posting more of my memories publicly. I’ve noticed a trend in the otherkin community to move away from discussing memories, and I’m not certain it’s healthy to the degree it’s taken. I’m very much a proponent of being functional in the here-and-now, but I don’t believe those of us who have non-human past life memories need to divorce ourselves from our memories to do that.
As for not having memories, I wouldn’t worry about it. Memories are, in my opinion, one useful tool to understanding one’s otherness. They’re not the only one, though.
Those are lovely. I miss Arhuaine. I should write down some of my own memories. Thank you.
I miss her too. And you’re very welcome, Cas. Glad you like how it turned out. It took me a while to find the right balance between what to share and what to hold back, for various reasons.
I remember the song within songs, the deep song within the land, the song trees. I also remember something that I thought of as “The Sword of Yllirien, the Star of Yllirien, and the Waters of Yllirien”. It never occurred to me that all these may be the same thing until I read,
“I remember dancing with a rippling blade of sky-blue metal, like a mountain lake reflecting a clear sky in summer. The blade felt warm and alive in my hands as I moved, our motions flowing together with the deep inner Song of the land. We did not move to some fixed pattern, but in constant relation to the world around us, physical and nonphysical, what is and what may be. It is a skill I am trying to relearn.”
A sword, a star, waters. Aliande, the joyful land.
I wish Arhuaine was still around and could talk with you about this. Apart from bladedancing, in that life I didn’t do much direct work with the Song. That was more her forte. I’ve worked with similar concepts in other lives, though.
Hmm… that makes me think of something from the listari language page. Barith, “Seas of Chance” as well as Halae-Han, “Walk the Water”. Could water in this context be a metaphor for probability? Walking the Water a poetic term for Flow-Working, of which I would see Bladedancing as a specialized subset?
I’m not sure I understand the connection with the star, though.