Thursday, September 15, 2011
Whatever of our spirit survives physical death, I do not know. Maybe it is just that I do not remember. I cannot say whatever might return with us to a physical life. There is no authority I recognize who can tell me what is true. There is no consensus in the present American world-view of these possibilities. Each person is free to consult their own intelligence, weigh the evidence available, and use their innate human capabilities to decide what is true.
I know I lived a former life as a Plains Indian, right at the time of genocide and resolution, in the time of the final Indian wars. I have no specific memories, not memories as we know them in our current lives. There are no details of people or events or names but a deep reservoir of emotion that mysteriously colors my present life and has from earliest childhood. An enormous sense of injustice and sadness wells up from an unknown source and always has - a great longing for something to be made right, for something I cannot name.
It was not until I found my way to "practicing Indians", when I was given sage and sweet grass, when I had the opportunity to participate in the prayer and healing lodges, that I felt peace and a sense of wholeness. It was like coming home.
I know people who recall another lifetime - bits and fleeting glimpses of something else. A friend had a vivid dream of being shot through the leg in a battle. When she got up the next morning there was a permanent dark mark on her skin exactly where she had dreamed of being wounded. Until then, there had never been a mark or scar on her leg.
All things are possible.
The holy scent of sage has been following me through the house tonight. It is faint and fleeting - almost not there at all. I wonder if it is a spirit from that other lifetime or if it is someone I knew in this life dropping by to see how I am faring.