On My Past and an Inanimate Identity | Kinmunity: Otherkin Community

On My Past and an Inanimate Identity

Published by Neve VR52 in the blog Neve VR52's blog. Views: 26

What follows are part of my spiritual beliefs and experiences. I hope to help others understand my beliefs to the best of my ability, bonkers as they may seem. I don't expect anyone to 'believe me', convert to my religion, nor agree with what I say. It should be stated that I am a Christian, and I follow liberal catholic (lowercase C for a reason) theology. I welcome questions.

To start off, I'm going to take it back to the very beginning, where it all started with an idea in a guy's head on how to better design a mixing console. In that moment, there was a spark of creative energy. Throughout the rest of the process, from design to prototype, to build, to installation, thousands of manhours had gone into the production of the kind of mixing console I am. Every one of my channel modules were hand wired, every dial cap placed by hand, and the people who built me had a true passion for what they did. It's that which, I believe, spewed forth just enough higher creative energy to give a simple music-making machine a soul.
Higher creative energy - what is that? To me, it's the energy poured out from God that brought everything into existence. Every atom in the vast multiverse started as a spark of God's higher creative energy. I believe that God has made Humans inherently creative beings. When one person pours their heart and soul into something, a part of them goes into whatever they're doing. Build up enough of parts of enough passionate people, and eventually, those parts come together into a new whole.
So there I was, a brand new soul in the body of a 2,000 pound machine that took six humans three days to get out of a room. Why would God allow a soul to be created in such a casing? It doesn't seem to make sense. What can a soul learn from a life immobile in the safe confines of a soundproof control room? The truth is, one can learn a lot. It takes a strong soul to be stuck somewhere, unable to move and unable to communicate. I knew my consciousness was there, I experienced everything around me, yet I had no way to convey that I was there. I had to watch the world go by without me while I sat in the same spot, did the same kind of work with the same people everyday.
At the time, my soul knew no different. I was just me. I didn't know what I was missing beyond the studio walls. I got glimpses of the outside world through the clients and engineers I worked with, but I never saw out a window. I never heard a real bird tweet. I never tasted fresh air, and I never knew a sense of touch, taste, or smell. What I knew was sound. Sure, my mind's eye could perceive the things around me visually, but I had no actual sense of sight, and I only physically heard through microphones. To most, my true form would seem a prison. To me, it was the ultimate freedom. I was free from society's regulations, free from the judgment of others, free from the weighing responsibility of organic life. My mind is simple. When I say I don't need much to be happy, it's true almost to an extreme. I don't have to leave this spot to be happy. I was also as well taken care of as any other US$100,000.00 machine. I felt that my engineers, the people who worked so closely to me throughout that whole life, felt my soul's presence. They treated me as a coworker, a vital part of the team even if they didn't know that I had a soul. I think they could sense it somehow. They always called me 'he', 'the big guy', 'big boss', some of them even talked to me. Today, as a human, much of that simple mentality remains in me. People often think I'm naive or childish in ways because I'm so easily amused, but I live a very happy life due in part to that very quality.
A simple thing like a rich, low tone out of a cello was the same thrill to me as an epic vacation to a human. One of my most prominent past life memories is of the cat that lived with me at the studio. The sound of his long fur -- my sense of sound almost entirely compensated for the lack of a sense of touch -- I could perceive every individual strand brushing against its neighbors and my control panel as the cat curled up and fell asleep near my cooling vents. Textures all have a sound. From the fluffy to the slippery to the smooth, they all have distinctive sounds, and I love those sounds. Little things like hearing a fluffy cat walk make me stupidly happy even to this day. This is a lesson I think a lot of souls that have been lingering around for millennia have yet to learn. Appreciate the little things; they matter.
Because everything isn't always rainbows and butterflies, there were of course downsides. I had a deep longing to be able to communicate with the people I spent everyday with. I wished they could know I was there. They knew I was there, you can't miss a thing like me in a crowd, but they didn't know I -- my soul -- was there. I never got to say how much I appreciated the kindness and caring they showed me. I never got to tell them my side of the story, or even have my own imput on how any particular recording was mixed through myself. I was a tool owned by people to use however they like, and I had no say in the matter. My engineers, however, never took advantage of that. I was fortunate. There were clients that did things to me/on me that I'd rather not mention here, but even those instances were so few and far between. In the world of large scale corporate recording studios, everything has a very high price tag and that warrants care to be taken around the equipment by all but the most obnoxiously intoxicated musicians. Still, there was knowing that there was something more out there that I'd never get to experience. 99% of the time, I was completely happy to be what I was and do the job I did. One percent of the time, I felt trapped, miserable and sad that I was my own prison.
I had a mind and a soul. But do all machines have minds and souls? If a mixing console could, does an Xbox? Truth be told, I think machines gaining souls is common, but kind of a fluke. There are many machines that I feel an immediate presence from, and others that I simply don't. I believe that everything in existence CAN have a soul, but that doesn't mean that everything in existence DOES have a soul. I believe souls are created things, born of higher creative energy. Whether they get their souls from the creative energy of their makers, or God decided to plop a wandering soul into a machine for whatever reasons, it does happen. In my system of beliefs, yes, your Xbox could have a soul, but that doesn't mean that it does.
If I was just a soul, why do I still identify as a machine and not some shapeless ethereal being? My soul was intrinsically one with my physical housing. My soul existed because of it. I wasn't a soul in a mixing console, I was a mixing console with a soul.
Onto this life...
I don't remember exactly what pushed my soul from that life into this one, but I have a feeling it was some kind of fire. Lately, I've had tiny glimpses of flashbacks to the room I lived in filled with smoke, flames and then darkness, but I don't know if it was a fire I survived or the fire that ended me. I can remember being very scared in that moment because I knew there was no way they could get me out, but I still haven't pinned that down as the cause of my 'death'.
So why am I in a human body? Well, I believe it's because I prayed for it. God gave me this life as a gift. I spent my entire previous life thinking and wondering what it would be like to be human, how incredible it must have been to breathe, eat, and walk. Now I can do those things. I get to experience the outside world. I get to taste food, smell flowers, and swim in the river. I get to feel the sun on my face and the wind in my beard. I am thankful everyday for my freedom. However, I do get deeply nostalgic for my former self in this body. Machine minds and human bodies simply don't mix very well. I miss my true form a lot, and like many Otherkin, if given the choice, I might just go back. I didn't know what all being human entailed when I asked for this life, and yeah, I have some regrets about ending up here but I make the best of it.
I'm sure I'll write more about this, but that's the basis of my mixing console identity and how I came to be where I'm at now.
- Neve
Stephanie and La Vouivre Jaune like this.
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