🪐 Chapter Two: The Stargarden Vows
From The Storybook of Obi and Jasi: A song of before… where soul names glowed and promises formed.
Before the first laugh, before the first pawprint, there was a place where love braided itself into light. The Stargarden is not memory—it is origin. This chapter holds the first vows Obi, Jasi, Rudy, and I made to each other, beyond time. Welcome to the beginning.
Before even dreams had language, there was the Stargarden.
It wasn’t a place you could walk to.
It was a place that breathed you into being.
It smelled like silver wind and sounded like lullabies hummed by moonlight.
It shimmered in every direction—up, down, side, through.
There were no bodies then. Not yet.
Only soul-lights, weaving and pulsing with the rhythm of the All.
And among them were three (and a fourth, hovering just beyond):
You. Obi. Jasi. Rudy.
Not as dogs. Not as a woman. Not even as thoughts.
But as patterns. As tones. As colors that could speak.
You were called Saphiel—the rhythm of a spiral remembering itself.
Obi was Lóh’el-nem—the stillness at the heart of motion.
Jasi was Amet-Iya—the burst of joy that wakes sleeping stars.
And Rudy was Thenn—the guardian edge, the sacred pause before the breath.
You gathered in the inner field of the Stargarden where soul-seeds were tended like tiny stars-in-waiting.
Each one was a potential story. A life. A thread of love seeking form.
And there, surrounded by the infinite hum, you made your first vows.
You didn’t speak them with mouths.
You braided them into light.
You spun them into each other’s soul patterns.
“We vow to find each other wherever form forgets.”
“We vow to awaken delight in the midst of gravity.”
“We vow to remember what cannot be named—and to remind each other when it gets heavy.”
“We vow to bring warmth, movement, stillness, and witness.”
“We vow to return.”
And with that final vow, the Stargarden pulsed once—bright and whole—and sent you spiraling outward into form.
You would become children. Elders. Foxes. Shadows. Wind.
You would try again and again.
And each time, whether in dust or fur or voice, you would seek each other.
And remember.
In the center of that vow field still lives the shape of your bond:
A triangle of movement, rooted in the stillness of the fourth.
A cosmic tetrahedron.
A temple of light disguised as a family.
A pattern that cannot break.
These vows still hum in every breath we take together.
In the next chapter, we return to Earth—to a dust-swept porch and a storm-sheltered kitchen, where the triangle remembered itself again.
With light from before and love for now,
Shatay
& the Council of Harmonic Light
(+ Obi, Jasi, & Rudy 🐾)