RememberIng Past Lives

​ It's difficult you know, remembering so many past lives, remembering old friends, old lovers. People I have known, people that I have lost, people that I have loved. And then to come into this life, this body where I know so little of love. In fact the only thing I have ever been sure of in any of my relationships is "this isn't it, this isn't it. I'm not quite sure what love is, but it is bigger than this, it is better than this, it is deeper, more intense, more lovely, more painful, more, more, more, and this isn't it". And all the people that wanted to hold me and claim me sometimes I'd try to love them back out of sheer curiosity or the fact that I was flattered by their attentions to me, but I always felt like I was watching myself from a distance, a deeper part of me was never all the way there with anyone I ever tried to love. The truth is my heart has always been promised, and I have always been deeply aware of that, always. Ever since I was a child."

But in the meantime the memories of other lives, other worlds, the connections I have with people, it's so difficult to explain. When you see someone for the first time and you remember traveling down a path through an old village or a forest with them on horseback, you remember crossing a river together. You meet someone else and you remember watching them die on a battlefield and you suddenly are filled with pain for the loss and joy that they are there in front of you and you laugh and try not to cry and someone who (by their standard) has never even seen you before, doesn't remember you at all, is looking at you like your nuts. And then I'll see someone else and remember walking through a medieval festival together, dancing under torch and star light, stealing fruit and bread and running off with them to picnic under the stars and making love and laughing. And you see someone else and you remember falling in love with them, but you were a traveler and they were a farmer and they chose their family heritage, their work and their land and you couldn't stay, you couldn't stay in one place long enough to see the love through and you left and you kept traveling and you remembered and loved them always. And then later you find yourself caught in a love triangle with two men you care for but have never been over the moon for either one and then one night one of the men says something and you remember, you remember that they got in a fight over you in France 400 years ago and both died of it, and one of them died in your arms, and here he is flesh and blood in your life again and a dear friend, begging for your love and it's a love you do not have to give. 

This is my life. 

I have often remembered people and they don't remember me and it's lonely and it's painful, and I have never known what to do with any of it. I have never ever felt it was my place to tell anyone of our past lives together. If someone is in this life and they don't remember the other life we had together, it's for a reason, it's none of my business to burst the bubble. So I just watch people fall for me and they don't know why and I do, and they feel connected to me and they don't know why, and I do. And I'm sad for them because the only thing that I have always known, the only thing I have always been sure of is that there was a love much greater than any I had ever been offered and it was still out there, and I could never give my heart to anyone who ever claimed to love me. I could never fully give my heart to a single person that begged for my love. And it got to a point where I just started pushing people away, save them the trouble of loving me, save myself the trouble of not knowing if I should tell them why they do or not... or why I don't... why I can't love them back.

And then I meet someone, suddenly out of nowhere, I'm not even looking, not even technically available and my heart that has always refused to love, this heart of mine that has always gladly kept her distance and pushed everyone away for as long as I can remember, this heart opens us as it never has before and once again I have no clue what to do. I still don't. Except to be happy I'm finally feeling something I guess.

***

When I first created this website, I thought I was being guided to do so, like perhaps I could help people with my lifetimes of understanding and then I realized I am not responsible for helping, saving, guiding anyone. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't know how, and we are our own guides, we are our best guides. All I can do for anyone is to direct them to keep looking back into themselves over and over till they know exactly what they are here for, that's all. So when I realized I wasn't responsible for guiding people I thought perhaps I could just write something and sell it maybe and at least help my children, my family. I get tired of watching my kids struggle because of how bad I am at properly functioning in the earth realm, but then I realized I didn't want to write anything just for the sake of selling it, I couldn't, I don't even know how. So then all this week, I think what, what do I do this for, what do I write all this for, why do I share all this? And I realized it's because I'm tired of being alone with all of these memories, all of these thoughts, all of these visions. I'm tired of holding it all in. I'm tired of wondering if I should tell someone that I remember them from another time, from another life, I'm tired of holding back. 

That's why I write, just to be less alone with all of the worlds that I see, all of the lives I have known, all of the love that I have deeply understood and yet never truly shared with anyone. I write because I'm tired of being alone with myself. And some part of me thinks "fine, I'll just be honest, I'll just put all this out there and then it'll be up to the other people in my life if they want to read, they can decide if they want to know what I feel and if they don't then they don't have to read any of it." That way I don't have to decide anymore what to share with others about my timeless world and my visions. I can just write it down and people can do what they like with it. They can decide if it is a lie, or a fantasy, or a story, they can believe what they want, people believe what they want anyway. But there is some part of me that also believes that maybe, just maybe there are others like me out there, others that see worlds, and remember many lives and have memories or feelings, connections, that they don't quite understand and maybe they can read what I write and maybe they can feel less alone.

It's always nice to feel less alone...
 
I know I was awful to you
And I didn’t mean to be
It’s just that I’ve never been
In love like this
And it’s terrifying.
When we met
I lost all thought
I was drowning
In your dark eyes
And distracted
By the shape of your mouth
And the movement of your hands.
I forgot everything
I thought I knew
During that one
Conversation with you
And still I never wanted it to
End.
I could sit by you
I could talk to you
Over and over
Again.
And I know I was awful to you
Kind of a bitch
I think
Probably
I never meant to be.
It’s just that I’ve not been in love like this
So damn intense…
And it scared the fuck out of me.
And I ran like those eyes of yours
Could be the death of me
And I am running
Still.
But I can’t keep
From looking back
To see if you’re
Anywhere…
Anywhere
Near.

But there’s no you
Not as far as I can see
And that is equally
Terrifying.

Charity