Most of my life I have believed in reincarnation, not like I’m coming back as a goat, but that we live multiple lives. Once our body gets old and tired, our soul leaves, goes somewhere (it really doesn’t matter to me where) and then we are recycled, dropped into another newborn body.
In my theory we have to forget, give up our past life experiences to start anew. I’m pretty sure I read that in a book, or maybe it was that Warren Beatty movie. What was that called? Heaven Can Wait! I was super young when that movie came out, impressionable, so it could be that much of my afterlife doctrine came from Warren Beatty and the little old guy that helped him. He was my favorite.
Anyway, some version of “we come back” has been what I have “known” and how I explain death and dying. To me, it’s figured out and I don’t waste bunches of my time theorizing or wondering about life after my last sunset.
Yesterday I was driving home and I started to question if that is really how it is, my “know,” or if that is what my brain tells me so I can get through my life?
Meaning, is my brain feeding me things so I don’t freak out that someday this will be all over? Ice cream, kisses, warm water, rainy days, pizza, massage, tea. Does my brain say, “It’s going to be all right, Tracy, because once you die you will come back and get to do it all over again?”
Like a child that doesn’t want to get off the ferris wheel and the parent tells her, “Okay, fine you can go one more time.” Is it like that? Is that what my brain needs to do to keep me on the straight and narrow?
I’ve always thought it was my soul telling me, recognizing things or people, giving me goosebumps and filling me with this calm sense of “knowing.” Maybe I was wrong, maybe there’s a big curtain somewhere and when it falls I will know it was all a trick and I only get one ticket.
Huh, I’ll have to think on this some more, or maybe that’s not such a good idea.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Bedtime.