I have a special connection to America. Possibly because this is my third lifetime as an American that I can remember. And yes, I mean lifetimes.
Before this lifetime, I was a young Black girl who lived in Harlem during the earlier part of the 20th century. I died tragically at the age of twelve.
Before that, I was a white woman who lived in the west. I had a daughter. I also died pretty young, at twenty-six, maybe, of illness.
How do I know these things? Or why do I believe these things?
It is something that I can't explain-- except to say that as far as my most previous life (Harlem), I was born remembering it. The lifetime before that (in the west) did not reveal itself to me until I began to meditate in my mid-twenties.
The funny thing is that I remember some people from previous lifetimes who are here now. My mother was my daughter. My nephew was my little brother. I watched my husband as he lay dying of a gunshot wound in a previous life (we were not a couple). My sister was my cousin. And a few others, including my father, step-father and a couple of ex-boyfriends.
And everyone has pretty much the same personality they had then!
I once mentioned my previous life memories to a much-admired relative, who promptly informed me that it was the devil.
So, I don't talk about this much.
But I almost feel a little sorry for people who have closed their minds to such possibilities, people who insist on reducing the beauty and magic of the world to a flat, linear perspective--simply so that that they can understand it.
But how can we ever seek to understand the miracle of Life?
Before this lifetime, I was a young Black girl who lived in Harlem during the earlier part of the 20th century. I died tragically at the age of twelve.
Before that, I was a white woman who lived in the west. I had a daughter. I also died pretty young, at twenty-six, maybe, of illness.
How do I know these things? Or why do I believe these things?
It is something that I can't explain-- except to say that as far as my most previous life (Harlem), I was born remembering it. The lifetime before that (in the west) did not reveal itself to me until I began to meditate in my mid-twenties.
The funny thing is that I remember some people from previous lifetimes who are here now. My mother was my daughter. My nephew was my little brother. I watched my husband as he lay dying of a gunshot wound in a previous life (we were not a couple). My sister was my cousin. And a few others, including my father, step-father and a couple of ex-boyfriends.
And everyone has pretty much the same personality they had then!
I once mentioned my previous life memories to a much-admired relative, who promptly informed me that it was the devil.
So, I don't talk about this much.
But I almost feel a little sorry for people who have closed their minds to such possibilities, people who insist on reducing the beauty and magic of the world to a flat, linear perspective--simply so that that they can understand it.
But how can we ever seek to understand the miracle of Life?
Picture: Sun setting over the lake. Nakatsu, Japan
We call each other sister.. Imagine that.. The worst thing about leaving Japan will be leaving her..
