Today the Daily Post asks us to discuss how we feel about living in the 21st century, and if we believe that we belong. That’s such a heavy question that I’m honestly not sure where to start.

I guess it’s best to say that I believe that time isn’t a straight line. I also believe that I’ve been here before, and unless the world blows up (and probably even then), I’ll be here again in some form or another.

That being said, no, I don’t feel like I belong here. But I also don’t feel like I belong anywhere else. Ever since I could remember, I’ve felt this deep inner sense of exhaustion. It’s very difficult to explain, so I’m sure I won’t do the feeling justice here, but do you know how some days you  approach the end of the work day and you’re just DONE with it all? Just ready for everyone and everything to get off your back, so you can go take a nap or sit in the garden or enjoy a nice cool beer in silence? The first time I felt that feeling after work, it was such a relief to me, because I had felt it before without knowing what it was, and now I finally understood what the aching annoyance that had been nagging me for as long as I could remember meant.

It’s not a lack of hope, or a lack of enjoyment – I have tons of great memories, lots of hope for the future, and find new things to smile at and wonder about every single day. But there’s a deep weariness at my core, an urge to find a place of peace and hide there for the rest of my days. It’s like every single moment is a deja vu that I’ve had too many times to count. When I was young, it was dizzying. Now it’s just annoying. But it doesn’t matter, because here I am until I die, unless time or space travel are invented. Oh, to have a Tardis!

My parents believe in past lives. They had the same reoccurring dreams (two each) from different visual perspectives for years before ever meeting each other. Their dreams were about two past lives spent together. Maybe I’ll explain it in some other blog post. At any rate, when I was growing up, my father would always tell me that one day I’d remember my past lives, too. I never have. I’m not sure I want to. I’ve had enough proof through their meeting and remeeting each other in lifetime after lifetime, and I’ve had enough proof through my own strong friendships that some things just transcend time. I believe that we pick our lives before we ever get here, and that each life is a new chance to learn the lessons we overlooked (or failed) the last time around.

Over the last 15 years or so, I’ve spent a lot of time exploring spirituality. As a result, I’ve met some pretty interesting characters. Psychics, witch doctors, priestesses, pagans, and other spiritual leaders (including those of more accepting schools of Judeo-Christian thought). A few of them have spoken to me in vibrations that reached into my heart. Multiple people have, in passing conversation, called me an “old soul.” I don’t know about that. How would I? The term “old soul” implies wisdom, innate knowledge, the chance at ascension. I’m not full of myself enough to assume any of that. It seems a folly to even dream of it.

So – do I belong here? Sure. It’s not optimal, but either it’s a punishment or a gift that I’ll spend my lifetime getting used to. Either way, it’s my job to figure out why I’m here, and suck it up. Get it right. Do my best. Enjoy each moment. Find peace in as many pockets of existence as possible. Give peace to others in any way I can. And one day maybe I’ll stop being an old soul and just spend the rest of eternity watching the waves and enjoying a lovely ocean breeze. See? Even my fantasies are timeless 🙂