Is My Past Life Japanese?

I feel like I should post something – it’s not a pressure, really, but just a kind of nudge. But I don’t know what. So I’m just going to write a stream of consciousness post tonight and see what comes out of it. Maybe it’ll even be good.

I am… not sure what I believe on many different topics. I am a Christian in the sense that I believe Jesus died and rose from the dead and is now King – I’ve seen too much firsthand evidence to doubt that. But there are many other things that come with that, that I’m far less sure of. Many Christians are very sure of many doctrinal things – such as hell – that I’m far, far less sure of. For the most part, I feel that believing that Jesus died, rose from the dead, and lives now as King is sufficient, and the rest of it is just stuff that can be explored.

Many Christians will tell you that they do not believe in reincarnation. I am really not so sure of that. In fact, I’m kind of thinking that there is reincarnation. And I think, in my last past life, I was Japanese.

The thing about life is this: If there is no reincarnation, then life is stupid. I mean, some people are born into great circumstances and have a wonderful life with loving parents and much success. And others are born into squalor, with abusive parents, etc. And some are even aborted. What of the aborted children? Is that the only life they get, and they’re not even allowed to make it out of the womb? What kind of unfairness is that? About the only thing that could be said to be good about that is that at least the aborted babies haven’t had a chance to sin, per standard Christian doctrine. Though given “original sin”, I guess that matters. Either way, it’s a really bum deal.

(And if you want to start arguing with me about abortion, spare me. Number one, that’s not the point, and number two, I don’t want to hear it.)

I’m also told that I was born with some very specific personality characteristics, as well. My mother tells me that from birth, I loved to learn and I had a very strong will. These things haven’t really changed. So to me, this is a kind of evidence that I had characteristics that kind of predated this body – they didn’t develop but were already extant.

So this would explain some things that have been really kind of confusing me. Why do I seem to have such an attraction to Japanese language and culture? Why does Japan seem so much like home, even though it really isn’t? And what about me is me and what about me is my body? Because if I were to accept the thesis of reincarnation, I must also accept the thesis that there are two separate parts of me – one being my body, and one being… something else.

My body is… a rather basic thing, to be honest. It doesn’t really want a whole lot. It wants food, water, shelter, to be somewhat comfortable… it wants to be exercised, and it wants a female. That’s really all my body, such as it is, really wants.

The funny thing is, my body and I actually fight. It wants to be exercised and I hate exercising. It wants a female and I really want nothing to do with providing it with one (it’s just too much trouble). It wants food that tastes good, and I… well, we’re kind of in agreement there, honestly. But the point is that my body has its own desires, that don’t always meet up with my desires. They’re sometimes – often – quite different. In order to interact with this world in any meaningful way, I need my body, but when all is said and done, it’s disposable. I get a say in how long it lasts, but at the end of the day, it will die.

But will I?

Assuming my suspicions are correct, I left my previous life behind when I died the last time. There may be a grave somewhere in Japan, with my previous body. Did I have a family that loved me? Did I have a family that I loved? What was my life like? Was I a survivor of the atomic bombs in Nagasaki or Hiroshima? Many questions that, frankly, really aren’t all that worth pursuing. After all, there’s a reason we forget and start over, right?

But something made me how I am. And I don’t think it was entirely in this life.

Regardless, it is a really… odd… feeling. To identify with something so closely when there’s no rational reason to and when any ties that I might have had to it are, for all intents and purposes, entirely severed. But apparently not. Because something seems to have survived. After all, my previous body is in a grave and I have no more claim to it, or the life that was left behind.

But no other country calls to me in the same way. It’s disconcerting. I wish I understood.

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