When I think back to who I was at sixteen—the music I loved, the clothes I wore, my hair (mohawk!), my beliefs, and the world I surrounded myself with—it’s clear that version of me no longer exists. That person has completely faded away.
Physically, every part of me has literally died and been renewed. My organs, skin, hair, and muscles have all been replaced, reincarnated, into something similar but unmistakably different.
Emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, I’ve transformed so profoundly that there isn’t a trace of who I was. My beliefs now aren’t even in the same universe as those I held back then, and the way I respond to life is of an entirely new person.
And how many times have I been through this same cycle? Over and over again. Yes, I can say, 'in this lifetime,' but by the time you reach my age, each of those cycles is a lifetime of its own. Each one held people, places, habits, and identities that have faded into hazy memories, dreamlike and distant.
And then there are the gaps. These intangible yet distinct pauses—more felt than seen—mark the beginning and end of each 'lifetime,' creating a clear boundary between who I was and who I became.
Back then, death felt real—an absolute end of life. But now, after experiencing countless “deaths” and subsequent reincarnations within this lifetime, I know death as nothing more than a shift in my state, a reconfiguration of my “I am's.”
And it happens so subtly, so inconspicuously, that I only recognize it in retrospect—a quiet transformation I didn’t even know unfolded.
This is death, my love—not the big, hairy deal we’ve made it out to be. When we experience the 'death' of a loved one or a cherished pet, it isn’t their passing we’re witnessing; it’s the death of a part of ourselves—a shift in our state of being, an expansion and transformation that propels us into yet another journey of adventure and growth.
We carry a tapestry of lifetimes within a single existence.
The nature of existence is simply continuous expansion. Every “death” or shift in state leaves us with a richer self, one that’s constantly evolving through these subtle, and sometimes jarring, changes.
This understanding shifts the traditional fear or finality associated with death into a cycle of release and renewal, where loss is as much a beginning as it is an ending. We get to see our lives as continuously evolving stories rather than static timelines.
When we take the time to soak in this mindset - it feels like we are tapping into an ancient, almost mystical understanding of self—one that sees life as a series of awakenings, each reshaping our essence and pushing us forward into even deeper layers of existence. Embracing the full spectrum of this can be deeply liberating, as it transcends the fear of finality and invites us to, instead, dance with the unknown.
💋Kristen
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