Every so often a very vague memory will waft in, but I feel like I may have reached the end of actively remembering past lives.
I’ve been avoiding saying that for a while because in the past when I’ve said it, I’ve been proved wrong. But I really do feel like my memories of past lives are fading. I don’t remember the Front as vividly as I used to, and I am extremely thankful that I had the foresight to write down my memories.
It seems that as my ego has had time to solidify, develop, and assert itself, I’ve become more in tune with the person I am now, in my present life.
I still want to visit past life sites in England, France, and Belgium, but lately I’ve been thinking more about how long it’s been since I’ve had a pint with friends I met in the UK in the early 2000s.
I still have affection and a sharper-than-average understanding of life in the 12th Century, but my sense of ownership of that era has faded somewhat.
I still have my interest in 19th Century maritime culture, but I haven’t had another memory from James’ life in quite some time.
I have absolutely no regrets about going to Point Reyes Station last year, but I have more affection for the time I spent with my husband there, eating penne pasta and vegan sausages out on the patio of our B&B while coyotes howled in the hills, or walking the beaches I may have walked in another life, making new memories of the California Coast that I will treasure.
The really telling thing is the song that reminds me of that trip. Immediately after it was “Adios” by Linda Ronstadt, but now it’s a lighter, dreamier, more romantic song, “The Nearest Faraway Place” by The Beach Boys. The bitter sting of leaving an entire lifetime behind has been replaced by the warm memory of the love I share with a wonderful guy.
I feel at least partly healed of centuries of regret. The life I have here and now is coming into focus and I hope to make the most of it once I finally get my depression and anxiety under control.
This doesn’t mean I won’t find myself falling back into thoughts of past lives, and I still intend to keep this blog going until I’ve had my chance to pay my final respects to the fallen Tommy whose short life flashed before my eyes. But it does mean that I’m feeling like I’ve integrated these experiences much better than I thought I would.