I’ve Lived and Died So Many Times

I’ve died many times … so many times. I’ve lived so many lives, too many lives. I am tired of this existence. I remember one life, many eons ago. Men feared me. Men paid tribute to my magnificence. I existed as a small deity. Then, in my fiftieth year, I took sick and died. I soon found that all I held dear in that life was as nothing. My life had been a dream … a sham.

I remember my life as a serf, indentured to the land. I never did have a full belly in that life. My loved ones died of disease and hunger. But it did not matter. We were not harmed. We could not be harmed. We were not our bodies. We were … and are … so much more.

We returned in new bodies, in new lands. We fought for property. We fought for riches. We fought and killed for nothing. We yearned for the tangible. We yearned for immortality in the physical. We wanted it all without knowing that we already possessed everything there was to possess. We were immortal and did not know it.

In time, I incarnated as a cripple, a poor wretch. In that life I was closer to the godhead than I had ever been. I learned of love in that life, I came to realize that I had lived so many lives in fear. That was the first life in which I started on the path of love, forsaking the path of fear.

Now, here I am … now, here I am. I am not of this body. I am a part of the entity we call god. I have only to remember my birthright. I have only to love.

I have many more roads to travel before I may rest. I have many more lives to live before I become pure love.

I have lived many lives working to become Love personified. I’ve died many times, so many, many times as I crawl back to our Father.

One day, I shall rest. The day will come when I’ll never be born … or die … again. On that day, I shall shine as pure Love. On that day, I shall stand with God, my Father.

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Marion On My Mind – Guest Post by, Emily Gmitter…

A wonderful tribute to a loved one.

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Sing it out … sing it out!” My sister Marion would encourage me as I practiced a song I’d hoped to perform at karaoke some night. “That was beautiful! You should absolutely sing that one!” she continued, scrunching up her face and pumping her arm in the air with earnest enthusiasm.

Then came the day when I realized she was tone deaf. How did I learn that? Well, we had another sister, Lena, who, age-wise, fell between Marion, the oldest of eight children, and me, the middle child. Lena encouraged me just as Marion did, but Lena loved to sing, too, although we’d never heard her do so.

One day, Lena decided she would take singing lessons. Marion and I were then routinely treated to Lena’s practice sessions which consisted of repeated—and memorable—renditions of You Light Up My Life.“Sing it out … sing it out! That’s beautiful!” Marion…

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