Stir of Echos?

I spent alot of time with my little one this weekend. Alot of one on one time. I rather enjoyed it. Still, as I look at here I can't help but think about all our family members that came before her.

I have a non-traditionalistic view on religion and of what there is or isn't after death. I personally believe that when you die, your soul goes into a staging area. Purgatory I think it's called. Dispite the Hell related conotation that has been attached to this place, I picture it as something like a 1950's mid-western town that is like a suburb around a Gothic palace. Anyway, those that have proven thier virtue on Earth may go into Paradise, those that have not return to Earth. In this sense, Earth is an extension of Purgatory, a place to pay for your sins in preparation for admittance to Heaven. Those who are hopeless souls go to Hell, where they toil for eternity or are snuffed out of existance out right.

Still, the possibility of souls returning to Earth makes the possibility of "Old Souls" a real one. I look into my little one's eyes and see an old soul. In the quiet moments of eye contact, where we seem to be searching each others eyes, I can almost hear the echos of the past. The soft whisper of voices long gone, memories of yesterday.

This belief also brings us to ReIncarnation. I don't believe in it in the Hindu or Buddist since, but believe that all things have a soul, and those souls circulate from this world and beyond. I think that you must live several lives to obtain the level of enlightenment and wisdom needed to live at least one acceptable life, and that you take the wisdom you gain in one life into each succesive life, some call it instinct. To me, this is evidenced when you see some people who just get it... and those who don't.

A hundred years ago, less actually, when my ancestors on my Father's side arrived from Poland, they stepped foot on a foreign land and left behind thier native homes. Those they left behind where all but exterminated a few decaeds later, but our family lived on. Like waves in the tide, our forefathers pushed us forward. With each ebb, a new flow. With the passing of one generation, the birth of another. Pushing us ever forward. Imparting what they have learned... and what they haven't, upon us. Ever flowing. I look in my baby's eyes and see the shoreline of a thousand tides, and hope that my wave will be the one that floods the plain, so that hers will never ebb. I hope that the countless generations before me have prepared me for my time in this life, to elevate those around me to a higher place. I hope that the soul within her little body grow to be much larger than my own... much wiser.... more enlightened.

I guess step one would be to teach her "No".