I cleaned out from under my bed today. Everything under there was from elementary school (somehow, at age 22). It seems as though I was quick to throw away middle school, but not so much my elementary years. I can recall having a fulfilling 5th grade. I had 3 best friends, one of which was in my class. Even though life got strange at times, I felt capable despite insecurities and obstacles. Right after that, all three friends moved, my muse died (I was a creative kid), and I distinctly remember going into every department store and finding nothing that would fit me, a metaphor for the times.
Despite having a fond recollection, I look back and I feel detached from this person. I cannot connect to the photos or memories, although they are still strong and clear in my mind. I’ve never been one to dwell on the past, “It distracts from the now” as Edna from The Incredibles famously stated.
Several weeks before this mass removal of childhood paraphernalia, I found myself dwelling on the little known fact that all the atoms in our body are recycled every 7 years or so. It was a topic I naturally gravitated towards given my recent checkpoint in life. We are not made up of the same composition we had when we were born. Everything was replaced, and deposited somewhere to maintain a general form. In this sense, we do not have the same exact makeup when we were seven either, or during our favorite adolescent memories compared to now. Even the expression of our DNA can alter slightly when environmental cues turn certain genes on and off (This is called epigenetics in science. In a spiritual sense of ascension, it is called DNA activation).
For me, there is this disconnect, and relation existing simultaneously. It’s as if it is already a past life, with a line of consciousness connecting all physical states of being, holding them together. Coincidentally, my Uncle sent me a quote from James Gleick he thought I’d like that pertains to all of this. It states “Mind must be a sort of dynamical pattern, not so much founded in a neurological substrate as floating above it, independent of it.”
Perhaps past lives are like that when we die and finally remember what we are. Although these past character states used to be our most recent self at one point, we moved on and no longer associate it with our compete identity. Perhaps our identity is more of what we are now and where we are going than what has happened to us and what we previously experienced.
Who are we, or perhaps, what are we? Just a thought…