I’ve always liked the idea of past lives, of being part of a larger energy force that moves from one body in space/time to the next, perhaps even inhabiting several simultaneously (parallel universes and all). In Haitian Voudou, these forces are referred to as one’s Maît–tête, or master of the head, a dominant spirit who shares and reflects one’s personality, passing on its collective memories and experiences through possession. While not a Voudou practitioner myself, I do have periodic flashes of deja vu that feel extrasensory, that seem to reveal distinct affinities for certain types of people, if not particular historic individuals (I can hardly recollect the memories of this life let alone another’s). Intuition or fantasy? Probably a little of both. Either way its still fun to imagine who I might have been in another time-space realm based on these flashed of past life recognition. So here are a few of my more persistent reveries — try not to laugh, please!
1) leader of a rebel army (my vigilance in the face of injustice and willingness to speak what must be said at whatever cost – when others won’t (because they are selfish) or can’t (because they are afraid ). Its always been an unusually powerful instinct, though maybe I just get it from my Dad? An easy-going man who would suddenly get his Irish up if he felt one of us was being mistreated in any way. I am definitely the Marxist type who truly believes in empowering the masses (“power to the people!” and all that jazz), much more passionately than I believe in past lives. iI have always understood the rationale for taking up arms, the need to fight for one’s rights regardless of the human cost…I’ve often been attacked for my support for all kinds of guerilla groups and actions, including jihadists, whose willingness to sacrifice themselves for a greater cause resonates with my own moral passion for the right of all to liberty. I dunno, all I can say is I woudn’t hesitate to take up arms if I felt it was required of me. Or to lead for that matter.
2) I really feel so awkward with this next one, but its been pointed out to me by others and I think it is likely – and just the fact that I find it painfully undignified to share it, to appear so vain, helps convinces me – that I have lived a more courtly existence than my pauperhood here in this world would suggest. There is a regal temperament , a haughtiness I seem to possess that again I could trace to genes, my great-grandmother on my German mother’s side, who “married up” as they say to the great dismay and drama of her in-laws, resulting in an exaggerated compensatory pride, queen-like in its expression..but I don’t think so on this one either. It is a different feeling, a strangely formalized equation of dignity with a public duty that feels as real as it is unconscious. A complete opposite “type” from the rebel leader, yeah, I know..but duty and pride seem consistent, no? I guess I just have a high regard for the noble.
3) A dancer. I have always loved to dance ever since I was a little girl, though I was denied the chance to take classes (my mother preferring to have me join a competitive swim club since my brothers already belonged — I hated it, by the way). Recently, I’ve become obsessed again with the idea of taking dance classes after getting into yoga, the first physical activity I engaged in since I quit swimming at the start of high school (Sacred Heart Academy may have sucked in many ways, but its lack of a pool among its sporting facilities was a god-send). Yoga really awoke in me the deep joy of using my body as an expressive form, and the myriad potentials of physical discipline. Of Course lots of people love to dance, which could mean that as past lives go, one’s quite likely to have this impulse. Does this make it meaningless? I don’t know. Maybe I need to think more about this one. OMG, as I write this and make some tea, I read the saying on the tea bag: “without realizing who you are, happiness cannot come to you.” I’m superstitious enough to have got the chills. I know you think I’m cuckoo-in-the-nest, but I don’t care. Now its your turn to share…?
4) Ok, one more! A hermit or a mendicant. There’s no doubt in my mind that I lived an ascetic past life since something peaceful and rooted emanates from that the very idea of such a focused existence. And it frightens me too. With the fear of disappearing altogether through that thin membrane that is/holds/defines “i” and “you” into the vastness of nothing and everything. I guess its not coincidental that I’ve been seriously exploring a Buddhist practice these last two years. Go with the flow, as they say.
5) I’m far too insular not to have lived on an island. my past life fantasies, or what I might call memory-attachments are just as strong with regards to environment/atmosphere as the realm of human/individual. And I know I’ve lived on mountains before. Or there is some deep collective unconscious thang goin’ on in my brain. maybe like staring at fire and still being mesmerized we maintain prehistoric links to aspects of nature that profoundly shaped our species’ development? Or sumpin’ like that? Because I’m not sure I really believe in past lives as discrete re-runs in human form. Maybe the energy I’m experiencing as “me” has flowed through in around out between all sorts of energy phenomena? Our brains aren’t equipped to really fathom any of this, that’s for sure.
6) Since I’m throwing caution to the wind, I’l say I most certainly lived a nocturnal life. There’s just no accounting for the deep accord I feel with the night and have since I was an adolescent. I find it forgiving and enchanting, never scary or depressing. Speaking of mountains, both on a recent trip to northern Vermont and my residency in the Catskills, I walked alone at night with great thrill and without a flashlight. And in the former place, I found myself having had a very intense feeling that I’d lived in just such a place before, a sense of homecoming. So now I hug mountains and not just trees.
7) ok, another. I’m pretty sure I was part of a tree-worshipping cult. I’m not going to say anymore, but my ardor for the arbor is too uncanny to be coincidental or nurture. Though apparently my German grandmother who I never really knew (she spoke no English and we hardly visited) had a “thing” for them, too. That’s when I believe in the congregate energy of people-place. Germans have been perennially interested and captivated with the forest, that’s no secret. Maybe lots of people with German heritage (or forest landscape heritage) feel as I do.
