Monday: Musings on past lives

I have reached a time in my life that in retrospect it seems that I have lived many lives just in the sixty some years that I have inhabited this body on this planet.

Sometimes when I look back in time, I say who was that woman and how is she connected to me. My thoughts and dreams and perceptions have so changed over more than a half century that it is definitely a realization that I have been many people as I played the roles of each definition of who I am.

The years before 18 I cannot comprehend. I cannot relate to the energy and the passion and the confusion that was a part of my reality at that time. Well, maybe to the confusion. My eyes looked out to judge me by the reflection in the eyes of others. Was I pretty enough? Did boys like me? Did my family approve? Filled with questions about reactions trying to understand who I was and was I enough.

Then around twenty I became a mother. I looked at my feelings toward my children. My fear of not caring for them well enough. Dealt with the insane mother-in-law and basically just continued to define the new me that was mother and wife. I never found it particularly fun or charming except for moments once in awhile as I gazed at my children learning and developing. Other than that it was a labor intensive, emotional roller coaster that no person in her right mind would ever do if she thought about it outside of lust.

About 28, I started to become a worker in the economy. I had to worry about making money and developing skills. I became a salesperson and learned to be competitive and fight for what I wanted. I began to define me by my performance against others. Not as much looking for approval as looking for a paycheck that said I was doing well.

At 33, I shifted again and went to college where I practiced the path of academia and psychology. I learned to think critically and began to see the world with deeper and wider perceptions. As I graduated and became a therapist I began to develop greater empathy with those who were suffering. It was not how they say me but how I saw them. I began to write and publish my work.

At 48, I began a stronger spiritual journey. I continued studies that I had started in my late twenties when I became an astrologer and spiritual seeker. This was like a returning to another part of me but it was distinctly different. It was at this time that I began to combine my academic training and my spiritual training to become a greater counselor. I finished menopause and my conception of myself began to mutate from sexual to sensual.

Around 55, I began to withdraw from the world and interaction with others and came closer and closer to the cloister of the writer. And till this day this has grown stronger every year with less and impact of the world upon my private world. Unless it causes disruption in my life, I don’t really care what people say about me or what I do. Who I am is reflected in my writing and in my actions and not upon others responses. Now, I must admit that gleeful inner child in me likes applause but basically my drive is propelled by an inner to desire to creatively express my connection on many dimensions including mental, spiritual and physical. As I approach 62, I am excited to know what new me will emerge.