What if We Were Actually All Each Other?

Stay with me here...

I’d like to try to put this idea into a kind of logic model. Again, give this a chance before you frown and move on. There is a chance that this might be fun.

First the things we know:

1. We have parts of our identity that seem to come out of nowhere—affinities, interests, skills, aversions that we do not share with other members of our family.

2. We have regular feelings of deja-vu or feelings that this has happened before or is strangely familiar even though we are certain we’ve never had this experience or been in this place.

Agree with me? Is this your experience? I’ll assume yes.

Now the interesting things that could exist that might explain above:

1. We could have past lives. This idea is predicated on the idea that we energetically recycle our souls life to life and can retain narrative or biographical traces of previous lives.

2. We could also be multidimensional and be interacting in other dimensions. Thus we would know things, learn things, acquire things that have no reference point in this dimension.

So that is a pretty big leap for most people as an actual reality, but if you just try it out as an exercise, maybe it can be fun for you

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Here is where it really goes off the rails:

1. Time is dimensional and therefore not linear. We only experience it as linear. This means that past lives aren’t the only options. We could have “lives” in all sorts of directions including concurrent lives. Meaning that some of our “past lives” could be your sister, your coworker and any of the presidential candidates.

2. If we are multidimensional, then why stop at lives? What about energetic ingredients that include my cousin’s love of acid jazz, my neighbor’s hatred of spiders and Mark Cuban’s political leanings? What if we were actually constellations of story and identity that are ever expanding and pruning and interweaving?

The crazy part is that I actually believe this and find it deeply reassuring. It is the best explanation for how I experience reality, which is pretty magical indeed.

This is, I think, one of the side effects of practicing conscious storytelling: you can’t help but see the ingredients. You can’t help but see the matrix. You can’t help but see that reality is actually an expanding and contracting tangled narrative that is felted so tightly that it seems solid and consistent.

But look closer and you’ll see the truth. We are each other’s stories. We are each other.