Reincarnation: an instinct and a gut feeling

This part of the series doesn’t really need to be here quite so early on, because this is not very important, but since it ties to my own personal story, I will continue where I left off and bring up how our instincts develop and how they direct our lives as we move further and further towards a state of complete self-awareness.

Where I finished off in the previous post, I told you that in 2001 I stopped following my spiritual guidance because I got scared that I would not be able to control it, and as it was interfering with my life and I started to have trouble relating to others on a very physical level as I was always peering into past lives and soulmate connections as I met new people – and I met a lot of new people around those days. I picked it up again in 2011 as I started studying life coaching primarily through my own exploration to the topic, but also through an online course.

This time around, I had all the time in the world and absolutely no distractions. A part of me wishes I had stuck with it at the time, another part is proud that I knew that I was going deep, fast, and that with all the people around me, I could not have done what I did with them around, because they (my mother, that is) would have panicked at some stage and forced me to quit it by organising a psychiatric intervention. Even this time around, living on the other side of the world and barely speaking to my mother, I was absolutely paranoid scared that if she would find out what I was up to, she would have me committed even though I was well past 35 and tried to convince myself that she could not have that kind of influence on me – but it would have been easy to convince authorities that I was harming myself with what I was doing, potentially forcing me to at least return to Finland under her care… A faith worse than death, that I predicted would land me in much worse situation, probably real self-harming like cutting myself and losing myself completely into the spiritual realm. In spirit, I had this conversation with my mother and father: “Would you truly be happier with me sitting in my bedroom at home cutting myself, than me living a happy life with my soulmates somewhere where you cannot see me?” They said yes. “What if I killed myself?” After a pause, my father said he would still feel better if I was at home than where I was now. I understand this was an irrational, soul-level conversation, but nonetheless it shocked me to an extent, because I also know that people make those decisions based on their gut-feeling, and this was their TRUE gut-feelings that they would not cognitively recognise, but they would still act on this wish to “protect me” from everyone else except their own influence, which, in their mind cannot be anything but pure parental love.

This leads me to the topic of instinct and gut feeling. My parents are a perfect example of garbled instincts and gut feeling that are always partially or wholly based on past life experiences. My mother knows that I am somewhat of a loose cannon, I will do what I want when I want it and ask nobody for permissions, and I also rarely bother to explain my motivations to people. To her, my behaviour seems illogical, rash, predictable only in its unpredictability, and as my lifestyle, values and choices make no sense to her, she feels she has to protect me from myself, and therefore, she has spent her life fearing for me, while I have feared nothing but her interference.

Her instinct to protect me against my own will comes from her fear that I am a lunatic. That fear is based on countless of shared lifetimes during which I have proven her fears by living my life the way I wanted, without following rules or regulations or norm, just like I do this time around. I am far from being out of control, but to her, even the slightest deviation from the norm (like not cry myself to sleep every night because I do not have a 9 to 5 job) to her is a sign of me flying off the handle. I believe that her life purpose was to save me from myself and to stop me from growing up queer, but she feels like she has failed me because, despite all of her best efforts, I am still the same as I always was. What she doesn’t realize is that I am the way that I am because I want to be, and that is all there is to it, and I feel I owe nobody explanations for my own life choices. She doesn’t feel that way.

My own instinct is drawing me towards my soulmates, always toward my soulmates. Even though I was living in the most impossible of places in terms of rock n’ roll finding me, it did, albeit late. (You would not believe the shite I was subjected to growing up in backwoods village in Finland where the Gods of Rock never brushed the airwaves! I have a playlist on YouTube. If you believe Justin Bieber is bad, you have got no idea what people call music around the world. Just a word of a warning, clicking that link is extremely dangerous, and you may never recover the trauma. You cannot unhear it later. And kid you not, these were seriously played on the radio day in, day out, as SERIOUS form of entertainment. Gosh. Anyway. I have to not derail from the topic.) I remember the first time that I got a sensation of being close to a soulmate of mine. I was 13, in and in Helsinki for the weekend with a group of Girl Guides and Boy Scouts for some big anniversary festivities collecting us all to Helsinki, the capital of Finland. Helsinki was not nearly as bad in terms of being shielded from the world, although, still in those days, it was pretty bad. Skid Row was massive, and the record was played in the bus the whole way through (some kids had managed to get their hands on some decent music, long story) and fight it as I might, when I took a toilet break at the local high school where we were camping for the weekend, I looked at the tag on the toilet stall wall: Skid Row – 18 and Life. I remember staring at the tag, barely knowing the band, there was something so magical about the words and the title of the song, I stared at it like I was dazed. 18 and Life. 18 and Life. Skid Row. Calling me to join them, rockers, like transfixed by a spell. My online nickname is a twist from Sebastian Bach’s name, not really, at the time, thinking much about it, but maybe, that too, is some kind of a sign. Now, I am not saying Bach is a True Emotion Mirror, but he is definitely a soulmate, whatever form that may take. I was definitely being pulled back towards the rockers, who are reincarnations of my soulmates; philosophers, artists, and revolutionaries, and Skid Row was their messenger: “Come. Your people await.”

I remember the first time that I got a sensation of being close to a soulmate of mine. I was 13, in and in Helsinki for the weekend with a group of Girl Guides and Boy Scouts for some big anniversary festivities collecting us all to Helsinki, the capital of Finland. Helsinki was not nearly as bad in terms of being shielded from the world, although, still in those days, it was pretty bad. Skid Row was massive, and the record was played in the bus the whole way through (some kids had managed to get their hands on some decent music, long story) and fight it as I might, when I took a toilet break at the local high school where we were camping for the weekend, I looked at the tag on the toilet stall wall: Skid Row – 18 and Life. I remember staring at the tag, barely knowing the band, there was something so magical about the words and the title of the song, I stared at it like I was dazed. 18 and Life. 18 and Life. Skid Row. Calling me to join them, rockers, like transfixed by a spell. My online nickname is a twist from Sebastian Bach’s name, not really, at the time, thinking much about it, but maybe, that too, is some kind of a sign. Now, I am not saying Bach is a True Emotion Mirror, but he is definitely a soulmate, whatever form that may take. I was definitely being pulled back towards the rockers, who are reincarnations of my soulmates; philosophers, artists, and revolutionaries, and Skid Row was their messenger: “Come. Your people await.”

By instinct we follow what we know from a past life: Those people bring me joy. They make me the happiest. They make me feel alive. And by instinctive fear other souls who do not understand our love for these people see us being deranged, “warped”, or “being pulled into the wrong crowd” and try to stop our way to it. To you, the crowd might be completely different, to me, it is the rockers… the philosophers and revolutionaries, but whatever you are drawn to… A quick tip: what is the sexiest profession you can think of? There. There are your generic soulmates, among them, your True Emotion Mirrors. What you enjoy, what is fun to you, is also enjoyable and fun to your soulmates. Like, the thought of being even friends with a daredevil makes my skin crawl because I would always have to be terrified, every day over when is he going to get himself killed, and I am not at all in the business of making friends with such people personally, even if I do understand their need to do it, and appreciate it and admire them for it, but God forbid me from ever making friends with one!

Our instincts guide us based on our past life experiences, memories we cannot remember, but that have sunk so deep into our subconsciousness that we still function on the basis. Our instincts are not infallible, they are based on our own human logic and what we knew about the situation then – whether it was our assumption of why a certain person behaves the way they do or whether it was an accurate interpretation of the same thing. We decide “this is the way things are” and in the next life, that decision becomes an instinctive rule of behavior or “a gut feeling”.

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