Grrrrr! When mom is the Red Barron

Okay, today I’ll give it to you straight… my mom told me that in a past life we were both WW I pilots and either she shot me down or I shot her down.  She remembers bearing down on me, guns blazing all around and then she locks on my eyes—definitely my eyes, and then as one of our deaths is imminent, the vision goes black.

Now most people would probably think this is disturbing, but I love this story.  For one, it explains a lot about my relationship with my mom.  After all, if we are here to work out karma, what better set-up than two rival flying aces living in suburban Chicago in the same house.  It’s not “Three’s Company” but it’s pretty good.

When it comes to past lives, I’ve got some memories of my own (but then with a mom like mine, you’d be open to alternative ideas too) and I really don’t know what to think.  I have no memory of bi-plane air battles, but then I did like Snoopy a lot as a kid.  And I was prone to draw WW I air battles as a child, but I thought all kids did that.  Since both Buddha and Einstein suggest that time is ultimately an illusion anyway, and whether it’s past lives, simultaneous lives or pure fantasy, I’m going to go way out on a limb and suggest that it’s high time parents and kids stopped shooting each other down.

It’s Halloween tomorrow, so why not imagine that we pull on our leather helmets and goggles and, just in case we shot our kids down in WW I, or they got us, maybe it’s a good day to open our hearts, not be overly literal, and mentally apologize for any horrible deeds we might have done in the past—in this life or in ones previous; and while we’re at it, we might as well forgive our kids for anything they might have gotten up to, yesterday or in 1918.

So, here’s to water under the bridge, to a clean slate and to a deeper understanding that there’s truly no winning in war.  After all, it’s better to be crazy than violent; and the very rationality that has lead to the weapons of war and the mechanization of killing is probably more insane than past life stories.  Perhaps there is a way to lovingly celebrate the irrational and mix it in with the rational, in honor of a good laugh and the well-being of all our collective children.

Namaste, Bruce