Voices from the Distant Past

This is complicated and uncomfortable to talk about. (Such is life, nay?) But...I think I have walked a life before this one. There are no details. No names. Just a feeling. At times I could swear I have bowed before these gods once in the past. At times I can almost recall the burn of sun or the spray of a river. Sometimes, when I'm bent over my workbench, I can almost remember lessons learned before in a similar art.I have always just brushed off these things. I thought that any former life--in Egypt or elsewhere--did not matter to the current one.

Then I met them.

My relatives are Jewish and Christian. My modern ancestors likewise. I tried to have an Akhu shrine once, but they did not respond well to it. I will admit, I was a bit hurt. But I respected their decision and let it go.

However. I am also an imperfect human being. After that rejection, I gave no offerings. I gave no prayers. I even said some ill things of a few of my beloved dead. I wanted to at least apologize--and show that I did not hold the incident against all of my ancestors and had forgiven the ones who had not wanted to be represented in my shrine. The Beautiful Festival of the Valley was approaching as I pondered this, and it seemed good timing.

I set the space, gathered the offerings, and purified myself. Then I approached the temporary altar (a small desk with limited space) and sat before the candles and bread and wine (sparkling grape juice, actually--I can't have alcohol). And I read the prayers in the book and as per the instructions, I broke bread with the deceased. I did not expect any answer, as I sat munching a bite of the loaf-- but to my surprise, there was a hand to take the other half of the bread.

The room seemed to get suddenly darker and in my minds eye, I found myself at a long table lined with faces I knew but didn't know and the air seemed to fill with the inaudible voices of a time long past. There was an hand on my shoulder, an uncle, I'm sure of it, and aunts sitting near me.These were people I knew intimately, but they were not relatives from my current life. There was a sense about them and how they laughed and looked at me, that I had come late to a party--that I was long overdue and they had been waiting.

It felt like home.

They came, not to scold me or to accept an apology. They came to tell me,

"We are here, waiting for you. You are not alone in the world of the dead. You have family here. You will join us again at our table when you come back."

They were joyous and they felt as though they had missed me. As though I had stepped out of that very place once before. I closed my eyes and I could feel night air in an open and dry place. I could smell candles made in another era.

Then as quickly as it had come, the vision was gone.

Ancestors.

I was once unhappy because I thought my recently departed kin did not want me and because, in my mind, that meant I had no ancestors at all. Now I feel a profound need to reconnect with voices long gone, and the warm glow of love from the unseen world touches me, like the candle buring on the altar, giving light to my eyes and heat to my face.

I remember. Can I ignore that? No. Even if I have always been wary of reincarnation claims. Even if I have always doubted my own feelings about it. Even if others raise an eyebrow when I say it. Even if it is uncomfortable to talk about. I have met them now, and so now I can not ignore it. Now I can not forget.

 I ate the rest of the bread and held onto the feeling of that place, the sound of those voices, and the touch of those hands-- for as long as I could until the seen world emerged from the dark and I returned fully to the world of the living; I whispered,

 "For your Ka. Drink of the intoxicating drink. It is a beautiful day."

 And I meant it