Historical April–May 2007 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
Her last cycle on Earth as a human being was in the nineteenth century.
She was born to a poor family in New York. Self-taught and quite industrious, she became a Civil War nurse. Medicine was, as we look back, primitive in those times, but Elaine, as she was called, made a real difference in the lives of many wounded soldiers.
His last iteration as a human being was fairly recent.
His life ended in 1942 in a combat zone in France. Prior to the last battle, there was nothing to set him apart from his peers.
He had dropped out of school at age 15 and was aimless until he felt the call of duty. Even then, he was but a nondescript trooper. That changed in France on that July day. Six different times he raised his body and ran across the field, exposing himself to enemy fire in order to bring a wounded comrade back to safety. Five times he was successful, but on the sixth time, he became another of the World War II dead. Prior to being a nurse in the Civil War, she last lived in Jamestown, in an early colonial settlement. Life was tough in those days, and the living conditions were matched by the harshness of the citizens. Those who deviated from the norm, those who questioned, were given no slack. Yet she stood up for what she believed was right, often shielding others who were not so strong.
She was also a maiden in the Spanish royalty during the time of Columbus. Again, she was noted for not just being kind, but for actively seeking to protect those who were less fortunate. Many times she and her servant slipped out of the castle at night in order to carry food to someone in need.
His lives were all different and yet all the same.
They were different by context. Prior to serving in WWII, he had been a tribesman in China in the 1800’s, a mother of eleven in the 1700’s, and a denizen of London in the year 791. Yet despite the differences in environment and role, his kindness was constant.
He always took the time to listen and always found a way to help. Despite our relative sophistication today, there is still much that is unknown and unclear. That ranges from “What is dark matter?” to “How come I don’t lose weight even though I’m cutting back on my eating?” to “How did this country elect him to be president?” In a way, as a wiser mind might suggest, the more we know, the more we know that we don’t know. That puts us on a bit of an intellectual treadmill, of course.
As we gain, we lose. Is this a great world or what?
As one example of what we don’t know but should, Karma, believe it or else, is real.
I mean, do you really think that THIS is it? How disappointing that we trudge here for 20 or 80 years and then the movie is over. Even 80 years, OK, even 100 years isn’t enough to smell all the flowers and eat all the junk food. Sure, some folks make an incredible dent on the world and then they’re gone. Poof.
Most of us, though, knock around, creating a bit of leverage here and tilting things there, and then it’s over. We’re over.
But it’s not and neither are we. You see, dear readers, Karma is the real deal.
We are each here for many iterations.
In previous lives, for example, I was a chimney sweep in Germany, a Conquistador in Spain, a prostitute in Rome, and a scribe in China.
Each of those lives was separate but they were each mine. Who I was and who I am didn’t really change.
I told bad puns in every setting and wore mismatched clothing century after century. Note that I’m leaving religion out of this. It’s between you and your God whether or not there’s a heaven at the end of our ultimate journey (and whether that heaven offers chocolate with the calories removed). Good luck on that one. Yes, heaven may be our final resting place but the final rest is a ways away.
I figure that I have at least a dozen iterations still ahead.
There are no guarantees, of course, but I’ve requested warm climates and a svelte frame. Extraordinary skill with a basketball is also on the wish list. Like many things, this is far more complicated than it appears – certainly than I explain it. You see, the examples I’ve cited have all been human beings. Their time, location, role and gender will change, but humans they is.
But they’re not always. You see, sometimes we come back as another life form. Someone who was a terrible bully, for example, maybe Attila the Hun or Donny Rumsfeld, might come back as a rabbit, just to get a feel for the other side. Or someone who always over-ate might come back as a porcine oinker.
But these “lower” life forms need not always be lower. Indeed, the people that I began by describing – the Civil War nurse, WWII soldier, and so on – are back with us today, even as I write. Over the centuries and throughout the continents, these two figures (note that I’m avoiding using the word “human” here) stood apart by their commitment to others. Regardless of their situation, the reached out and helped.
They didn’t just talk; they acted to help others.
Each iteration found them striving even harder to make a positive difference in the world. Sure, a condo in heaven – which I suspect must resemble Merb’s Candies – probably lies in the distance for them, but what about now? How could another iteration possibly reward these two figures for lifetime after lifetime after lifetime of reaching out and making a positive difference? Well, meet B.J. and Casper, my two dogs.
In this iteration they’re each a standard poodle. B.J. is a black female and Casper is a white male. They’re dogs in appearance but not always in behavior. Subtly, if you look closely, you can see traces of the humans they were. B.J. is empathetic and Casper smiles. And, as their reward, they have come back as my dogs.
It doesn’t get much better than being one of my dogs. Think about it: Eat well, nap as much as you want, sleep in a warm dogbed, have treats simply for just coming inside, patted on the head rather regularly, daily walks to smell the roses, and a front door with a glass window so that you can bark at anything that moves. And what’s missing? No worries, no taxes, and no listening to Rush Limbaugh.
It doesn’t get any better that that. So stay true to what’s good, dear reader. Listen well, act graciously, and be kind not just to strangers and dogs, but also to people you know (which is much harder). Maybe, just maybe, if you’re lucky, you can come back and be one of my dogs in a future generation.
I don’t know on what planets we’ll be living in 2137 or what technology will allow us to do (or what it will have done to us), but I’ll be here and I’ll have a dog. You could be my lucky pooch. How’s that for a goal?
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, April–May 2007.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times2007_04.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
