Past life acrobatics
On this sunny (and smoky) June Friday, I sit down to write and eat my homemade mango ice cream. There are tiny baby birds living in the bush next to the house, and I can see four of them dancing on the porch ledge, fluffy and sweet.
I am thinking a lot about how many lives I’ve lived in this lifetime. Countless versions of me snuggled tight against my belly and heart. I can feel each of their distinct personalities and see how far I’ve come.
16 year old Christie’s grief, 18 year old Christie’s walls, 22 year old Christie’s burnout, 25 year old Christie’s gall — all of them time capsules for the growth and healing I’ve devoted my spirit to.
Strikingly evident in the older versions of me was my resistance to surrender. That is, any sort of expression of truth or emotion would send me into a tailspin of NO, of running away, of avoidance, of being out of range.