Are we sure we know what life is? I’ve lived a handful of times, and I’m still not certain.
It could refer to something biological: an operating, consuming organism seeking to live as long as possible in order to replicate itself.
It could refer to something spiritual: withdrawing from temptation in the pure pursuit of soul enlightenment.
It could even be about activity—rather than obsessing over one passion, it’s a combination of many. Hence why I’m often told to “get a life.”
There’s no wrong answer here. Life is wondrous, terrifying, joyful, miserable, and lethal.
Some say immortality is better than having to time out—because death is scary.
The unknown is scary. It’s wired into all beings to fear the dark jungle, because there might be a predator lurking there.
Death is thicker and darker than a jungle. It is the end of life, the finality—but it’s completely immaterial.
Most people have experienced death in some way: whether through the loss of a loved one, images on the internet, or working in the funeral industry.
It’s not pleasant. And yet, when you see the body, it’s just an empty vessel. The person is gone.
Death isn’t unknown to me. I’ve experienced it several times before, and it’s hard every time.
In every life I remembered—whether I was ready for death due to the extreme age of my body or if it came suddenly and without warning—my soul labored to pull away from the vessel I had called home.
The shock of no longer having lungs or a heartbeat was like being thrown into icy water, clawing to find something—anything—to feel alive again, to escape the void.
But after a short while, I realized that nothingness cannot exist, because I still am.
A free, amorphous thing with disjointed thoughts and scattered memories, trying to make order again.
This re-emergence of awareness happens in the Plane of the Dead—what I call it.
But it’s not just a place where the deceased go; it’s a place for souls who wait to be reborn.
The Plane of the Dead is a misleading name, since it’s bursting with unliving souls that wander and wonder.
The land of this place mirrors the soul’s mindscape. It varies for every soul, and it can shift in an instant.
Of course, many souls seek to reclaim their former lives by drifting beyond the Plane’s borders into the realm of the living.
But they gain little comfort from their chosen eternity.
I could be wrong. Once I was done with a life, I wanted to move on.
The only thing I’ve held from those previous lives are the memories—some pleasant, some painful.
Some I wish I could relive. Others, I’d never want to repeat.
Gone lives don’t evaporate into the ether. They survive within the invincible soul.
For those who remember past lives—or life between lives—it’s both a gift and a burden.
I consider them guides: helping shape a better future for the life we’re living now… and the one that comes after.
About The Author
Lea, this was a lovely reflection on your past lives memories, they help all of us who do not have them. I envy you for having them, even they can be very painful. I guess I should be grateful for my unexplained longing for Egypt and constant sadness I feel when I am not there, as these are the signs I have the mysterious connection to this ‘Black Land’. This is why I keep coming back, again and again…