I’ve spent the past few weeks going through old boxes of stuff. I’ll probably be spending the next few weeks doing that, too.
Every little thing in these boxes–from a scrap of newspaper to a stack of old photos–brings with it a stream of memories. Those streams flow together and remind me of who I one was and how far I’ve come.
They also trigger memories of other streams that have flowed in the past–from the deep past.
We all have within us a heritage that goes beyond our bloodline. It is a spiritual and metaphysical heritage that is not necessarily connected at all to our genetics (at least not any more). Those who are lucky may find that their physical and metaphysical heritage streams cross and intertwine.
I am not one of those people.
For most of my life I’ve been drawn to things that have little to no correlation with my experiences and influences, at least when the interests begin. For a while, this confused me greatly. How, I wondered, could I possibly not be surprised by vague tidbits of occult history? Why, I would ask no one in particular, am I not surprised by the strange and unusual things that I’ve run into?
Most importantly, why did it all seem so familiar, no matter what?
For many, the concepts of reincarnation and past lives are fun ideas to tinker with and laugh at. For some of us, it is serious (though often quite entertaining) business.
It wasn’t until I was in college that I learned I wasn’t the only one (aside from the flighty New Agers that would show up on TV every now and then) who remembered things he shouldn’t. In college I was lucky enough to fall in with a group of people I had, apparently, been with many times before.
We did hit it off right away, before we knew of our connection. After a few months of knowing one another, our curiosity of metaphysical matters brought us over the threshold and into an intricate web of long-ago interpersonal history.
That history stretched back 9038 B.C. and found us crossing paths again and again as the centuries wore on.
Most of our revelations and remembrances were spontaneous and powerful. Shared memories of things we most certainly had never experienced in the scant two decades we had been alive. It was only after we compared our personal notes that we realized how many of those memories were shared.
There are other ways to gain (or regain) that stream of memory that stretches beyond biology. Through directed mediation and honest self-evaluation, anyone can begin to dig up their past. Many people I’ve met over the years have worked with great vigor to discover who they were.
In a way, knowing who we were can give us some much needed perspective on who we are now. Even if that “you” is only from fifteen years ago, it is a point of history that has been a foundation of the present. Those who work in the metaphysical realms are well aware that while we may be greater than the sum of our parts, those parts are still quite important to our whole.
And once memories from past lives begin to spill through, we become aware of ourselves on a whole new level.
I will, without a doubt, tell more of my own story. What I want to know right now is a little of yours. Do you remember who you were? When you were? What you learned?
Tell me, we’ll compare notes and learn more together.
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