Embodying Soul: A Return to Wholeness
Section 1: Chapter 5—Travel Scrapbook
Dear readers: Welcome back to the Soul Realm! This chapter is really all about the idea of reincarnation…without ever using that word! Sometimes, words come with our prescribed ideas. Throughout my book, I tried not to use phrases and words we might already have formed opinions about, and instead try to work open and free our imagination—what is possible?
Who are the souls who we eventually call our family? And why them? And how, exactly, did we get to be the soul we are? These are the questions I seek to explore in this chapter.
Oh, yes…. and all my emotions are embodied in the form of snakes. Just, FYI
Chapter 5: Travel Scrapbook
Now that our heavier discussion regarding the River of Forgetting is behind us, Rasa and I stroll back out to the precipice to witness the transformative process of creation, various majestic life-forms — planets, stars, comets — coming into form, existing for a while, and then dissolving back into the cosmos.
Human beings often believe that Source — which some might call Sacred, God, or the Divine — has an ultimate finale still to come. But in truth it is the ongoing cycle of creation and destruction through which its greatness is expressed in each moment.
As we watch magic unfold, I pick up where we left off in our conversation about the child ego. “So what happens after my ego forgets about her soul?” I ask.
Rasa collects her thoughts and then says somberly, “Once Earth Realm becomes the only valid reality for the ego, your energy and power to influence her will diminish. Slowly, the connection you naturally have with the child ego will be severed. Then you must contend with the volatile adolescent ego. Many souls lie in wait through much of adolescence, while societal forces — parents, teachers, coaches, and other authority figures — shape the adolescent ego’s mind and heart.”
“And then the adult ego takes over,” I add, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the recollection.
“Yes, and the overconfident adult ego is a significant obstacle to communication. And attitudes and forces prevalent in the time of your next incarnation, such as narcissism and the pursuit of materialism, further complicate the potential communication between ego and soul. When the adult ego is in charge, there is never a perfect time for the soul to start communicating with the ego.
I suddenly feel dizzy. I raise my hand to my head, where memories swarm like bees, threatening to sting. I see myself, in various human skins, never having the chance to let my voice and intentions be seen and heard in the Earth Realm due to my ego’s fear and lack of communication with my ego. “Rasa, I am recalling whole lifetimes of my soul never getting through to my ego. I feel sadness, loss, and pain all over again.”
She steadies me by briefly touching my forehead and says, “You have had those lives, but note that they taught you lessons as well. And remember you have also experienced lifetimes filled with creativity.” She taps my heart three times, and I feel a jolt.
“Yes,” I reply. I now see thousands of lifetimes — each lasting but a blink of a soul’s eye and encompassing reconciliation, adventure, creativity, wonder, joy, and passion. But whether joyful lives or painful ones, it soon becomes too much for me to take in so many moments simultaneously, and I realize this is one of the reasons human beings live in linear time — so they only have to focus on experiences sequentially.
Rasa takes my shaking hands inside her steady ones, and fortunately the memories cease. She pulls a thick book from her tote bag and suggests, “Let’s revisit your memories a little more slowly, shall we?”
“What is this?” I ask.
“It is your travel scrapbook, of course. I updated the cover. It seemed more . . . .” she pauses, searching for the phrase, “positively portentous.”
Last time, I remember now, a willow tree, representing a journey marked by increasing openness of mind, graced the cover. This time there is a stuffed and smiling bear with a pink heart stitched onto its protruding belly, matching one of the stuffed bears on my suitcase. These bears must be a theme of my upcoming life, I conclude.
“Go ahead, take your time browsing through the scrapbook,” she encourages. “Revisit some of your past trips more leisurely than when you lived them in the hurriedness of Earth Realm time. Pay homage to people you met along the way. Trace your evolutionary — or shall we say revolutionary — path through time and space. This way you can remember why you have signed up for this trip.”
“I signed up?” I ask, not remembering this step.
Rasa brushes her hands in the air, back and forth, as if painting a poignant scene, then replies, “As your last life faded away, as your body returned to dust and you transformed back into light and energy, you made your wishes known clearly. The cosmos responded to your desire and carried you directly here. But you are not bound by that decision. There is no Soul Realm court that will force you to honor this decision as if it were an Earth Realm contract if you change your mind. Human life remains what it has been for all eternity: a choice.”
Reassured of my own power to choose, I spot an oak tree that has grown tall enough for me to rest against, sit down, stretch out my legs, open the book, and slip inside the womb of time to remember.
Just placing my hand on the cover of my travel scrapbook is enough to awaken a great variety of past travels. I’ve known famine and riches, power and humility, servitude and rule. I’ve worn the garb of landowner, farmer, housewife, battle warrior. Out of curiosity, I’ve slipped into the leathery skin of a snake, the rough skin of a bat, the thick skin of a bear. Sometimes I’ve chosen to remain skinless in the Earth Realm, traveling as a raindrop to be embraced by a great ocean, or slid my roots deep inside the ground to stand as a powerful redwood tree. I’ve bloomed into a bright yellow dandelion then transformed into its white seeds lifted free by the passing wind. Once I chose to live as only a speck of dust, and what lessons I learned as I was swept from place to place! Still other times, to experience more of myself in my disembodied state, I have traveled throughout the cosmos on only the power of my consciousness, free of any body or world. I have cannonballed out of supernovas, drunk rich wine from the Big Dipper, and hitchhiked on fiery comets. Some of these trips I have undertaken simultaneously, splitting myself into factions.
But the human condition, as every soul knows, holds incredible potential for reaching higher states of consciousness and a greater range of knowledge, bringing souls a little nearer to Source. It is this higher purpose that urges all souls to continue their often tumultuous journeys to incarnation — in my case, the lives depicted in my scrapbook.
I open it up. Pictures spread out in multisized panels call me into their stories. To revive a particular past life, all I have to do is touch a picture, and it feels as if I am there and events are happening now. Of course, from the perspective of the Soul Realm everything is happening now.
The first page depicts me as a bosomy elderly woman, rocking on my front porch, my beloved by my side, inviting those who walk by to come in and share their stories. Having lived a bountiful life, I spend my remaining days offering and sipping coffee while drinking in my guests’ stories of struggle and triumph, longing and loss, love and heartbreak.
The next page shows pictures of me as a ponytailed ambitious explorer hiking up snow-capped mountains. Weariness and loneliness are reflected in my face. But so, too, from the perspective offered by the Soul Realm, can I feel the explorer’s exhilaration and growing power.
On the next page are snapshots of me as a tall, pale young man dressed as a seafaring Viking warrior. He is a trained fighter who has shed his innocence, but self-doubt shows in his eyes. A thin, semitranslucent, blue-gray snake, dressed up in a black-and-white pinstriped suit and blue tie, hovers just above his shoulder. I stop to feel this creature, and a sharp cold slithers up my spine upon recognizing the snake as Fear.
What soul could forget Fear, the oldest, most cunning, most battle-worn, and least naïve of all human emotions. He is the consummate imposter; even in this picture, with his chin held high, he attempts to impersonate Courage. His darting eyes, however, always betray his true nature.
I continue on through my scrapbook, revisiting other past lives and coming across many other emotions, which slither through my soul body just as they surely will again in the Earth Realm. I reacquaint myself with Guilt’s sharp barbs, with Anxiety’s anguish, with Shame’s power to diminish, with Depression’s loneliness.
Rasa, watching closely, reassures me, “Their hiss is worse than their bite. If one acknowledges them and respects their potential power, they can actually be made into allies instead of mere adversaries in life.”
“It is clear to me that I have not always treated my emotions with respect. Especially Depression,” I say, indicating a thin skeleton of a snake draped in a dark cape. I observe that pictures featuring this emotion are cloaked in darkness and won’t spring to life no matter how hard I press.
“Yes, Depression leaves an eternal mark, making it difficult to understand and respect his purpose,” she agrees, wincing at the memory of her own encounters.
I continue flipping through the pages of my scrapbook, seeing so many lives of denied emotion. Lives lived merely on the surface, all dressed up and smiling on the outside but, stuffing my emotions. I exclaim, “That’s it! The stuffed bears, the bears on my suitcase and on my scrapbook — the theme of this next lifetime — must represent my emotions and how they’ve been stuffed down inside me, where no one could see them or listen to them.”
“Yes, a life where emotions play an important role lies before you. Though whether you deny them or express them is left to you and your ego,” Rasa explains.
Seeing my emotions from this perspective of the Soul Realm awakens my respect for them. “In the next life, I will encourage my ego to befriend my emotions, respect them, and even advocate for them,” I promise. My belly flutters and my fingers tingle at the idea.
“A voice celebrating the emotions would be a boon in the Earth Realm,” Rasa replies. “Because there, as you recall, some emotions are celebrated but most are ignored or even vilified. Sure, Joy is welcome nearly anywhere — except at a funeral, of course. But try bringing Anger into a classroom, or Fear into a competition!” She bends over with laughter and I join in, conjuring up images of such breaches of Earth Realm protocol.
At the mention of Joy, I quickly search through the pictures of my scrapbook to find her. I soon discover that no matter what kind of story it is, Joy is never too far away. Red-cheeked, bright-eyed, and outfitted in layers and shades of pink, Joy can be found even in life’s toughest situations. “Will Joy be joining me in this lifetime, Rasa?” I ask, hopefully.
Rasa sighs, shakes her head, and says, “That is yet unknown. Every lifetime is different. But each of your emotions will visit us here at the precipice, likely in the order of their first major appearance in your human life. You can ask them whatever questions you may have for them upon their arrival. I believe Fear has the pleasure of arriving first.” She gestures toward my scrapbook.
The next time I find Fear in the pictures, he holds a small suitcase in his tail and is waving to me almost cordially. I sigh, knowing there is likely no talking him out of coming along; Fear is an essential component of human life. So I lovingly straighten his black fedora and continue on, page by page, life by life, working my way to the end of my scrapbook. On the last page, I find a giant oak tree spreading out its limbs, bursting with thick branches and bright yellow leaves. At the top hang four colorful lights.
“Who are these souls?” I ask, pointing at the lights.
“They are your next birth family,” Rasa answers. “They, like you, will live the next life deepening their relationship with emotions. Though you will all approach emotions differently, it is this theme which will bind you together as family.”
I touch each light and see images related to our future relationship.
One is of me, a petite human girl about six or seven years old with brown ringlets, wearing a silky blue full-length dress and white sandals. I’m holding the hand of a thin, elegant, blue-eyed blonde, my mother, who is wearing an identical dress but white sandals with heels. We are both holding flowers and smiling an identical smile at an uncle’s wedding.
Another image is of me a few years older with my father. We are in a school, playing a duet on the piano while my classmates circle around us. Though we both make mistakes, it doesn’t matter. I am proud he is my dad.
Next, I see images of my younger brothers. I look a little closer at the one who will incarnate two years after me, realizing that though we will be very different, we’ll be connected by love and caring. Then there is an image of me as a teenager, wheelbarrowing my second brother, a red-headed bear cub, around a carpeted floor on his hands. We both collapse in a heap laughing, exhausted from our play. Because of our age difference, this relationship is less volatile than the one with the first brother. Finally, there is a picture of all five of us gathered around a Christmas tree in a cozy living room, opening gifts with barely contained anticipation.
Feeling the potent yet often hidden emotions flowing through my future family members, a single tear brimming with gratitude and reverence rolls down my cheek. Oh, how many times our paths have crossed, yet we’ve never been blood relatives before. They are perfect for me.
Minutes later I emerge from the womb of time like one awakens from a sweet dream. A last memory of a fire licking away the cold on a snowy night slowly fades, while the lingering taste of blackberry wine on my tongue cleanses from my palate the last shred of doubt about my upcoming journey.
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