but simply an irrevocable condition.
― James Baldwin
Cindy
I know Jung believed in the continuity of personality over multiple lives. I always regarded that as mystical even though I personally experienced flashbacks and visions of my own, still, I tried to suppress these incidents seeing them as mental aberrations that shouldn't be taken too seriously.
All that changed during my stay at Cambridge when I had dreams of Anglo Saxon warriors and later found out my residence had been built on an Anglo Saxon gravesite. The experience led me to become interested in the past history of houses and led me to become a house whisperer.
But the more I learned about the way the past endures into the present, I began to see vestiges not only of ghostly presences, but vivid details of my own past life experiences.
Most men are fortunate to find a beautiful woman, but the Fates presiding over my many lives always ensured I ended up with bewitching Sirens by my side.
My only regret is my track record of impulsive decisions. I had no control over Marilyn's murder―so, in that situation, she and Joey and I were all victims.
But running from Amber and having a fling with one of my graduate students? Yeah, it makes me cringe. Totally unwise, to say the least, and evidence of great flaws in my character.
These were the thoughts running through my head as I was snuggling with Cindy before the fire. It was a rainy November night outside, but inside we were warm and sheltered in each others' arms.
We were drowsy, shut in with our own thoughts but suddenly she yawned and asked in a solemn voice, "So Prof, have you come to terms with your wayward past?"
I shook my head. "I have no idea why I did the things I did."
"But that's the whole purpose, isn't it, to learn?"
Actually, I wasn't sure why we were stuck in this circle game, repeating ourselves in different times and places.
Nat informed me about James Collins, my past incarnation. Seems he was buried out in the country in a town called Willow Grove. I was curious but couldn't visit the remains of what I once was―I'd be walking on my own grave, not to mention, a few of those I loved.
It seemed futile to die like the grass of the field while his memory and thoughts were still rolled up inside me like a scroll in my brain.
Cindy sat back and closely studied my face. "You're still struggling, aren't you?"
I nodded, too upset to speak.
She smiled compassionately and gently brushed her lips across my cheek. "Give it time, Love, it'll all make sense."
But I couldn't see it―the circle of life, the cycle of seasons, death and rebirth...all meaningless repetitions.
"Why do you think we keep coming back?" I asked.
She paused for a minute and then whispered, "I think we're trying to get it right."
"And what if we do―you know, somehow hit on a cosmic formula―do we win a prize?"
"We find fulfillment."
"Fulfillment?" I chuckled bitterly, "What does that even look like?"
"It looks like us," she smiled, placing my hand on her tummy. "Laird, I'm pregnant."
All those past lives, our pain and our struggles, all those visions and dreams and I never once saw children...
Yet, here we were―the mystery of us unfolding...
and from where I sat, it looked like fulfillment.