This morning was a little tough. I awoke with this feeling of my mortality on this world. I am a believer of an afterlife, or rather an interim life, since what I believe actually happens is that you come back here to learn a lesson, or maybe even take a class on an aspect of life not experienced. So in essence, I am affirming that we are eternal. But we are not eternal in the form that you and I occupy at this moment. And that is what made me stop and think, a tinge of sadness knocking at the recesses of my mind. It seems almost unfair, doesn’t it? You are born, and as you grow up, your wisdom increases, as does your spiritual experience (if we allow it of course). But then as you grow older, the physical becomes more worn down, impaired.
It seems like such a waste to accumulate so much only to lose it all at the end when we leave this plane. Who will remember this life I led? Who will experience it the way I did? Who will know me in the next life that I knew here? And of course, what will happen to this version of me, this consciousness filled with memories, love, family, friends?
Very often, I am thought of as a very positive person, and I am. So I don’t mean for this post to come off as negative. It’s just that as I was thinking of all this, I wondered if the artist gene is there because the past souls I’ve been are trying to express their lost selves, as they were absorbed by me in this form, as i shall be absorbed in a future one. I may become a distant spark, or a tiny shadow in the corner of this new form. Or I may remember parts of this life fondly. As I stated, my life energy, and my soul wil survive. Of this I am certain. But if traces of Claude will remain is the mystery. I would love to know this answer. Wouldn’t you?
And just as I wrote that last paragraph, I reminded myself that in some form or fashion, parts of me will remain for an eternity on this world. That of course comes from the expressions i left behind in the form of words, melodies and paint. These things will remain to give people a glimpse of who I am. What I was. At least in some small way. Its a nice consolation I suppose. So long as I leave this place in a better state than how it was before I entered it.. I think it is a great thing.