First past life memory. I was in junior high, and had read my first book about the concept of reincarnation. I cannot remember what I was doing or what triggered the memory, but this is the memory I saw in my mind which I can still see very clearly even today.

I am standing at the top of a castle. I look down and I can see that I am very, very high up. I look up and around, all I can see is land and trees far as my eyes can see. I look down at myself. I am wearing some type of long gown. The gown looks to be made of silk and it has pearls sewn into the fabric. My hair is long I think because it is done up in braids which have been wound around my head. I am young at least I feel young. I am not wearing a ring, which may mean I am not married. I have a necklace, a choker really, made out of some strange type of bead. I wish I had a mirror so I could see what I really look like.

I feel the top of my head and I have some type of cap on or bonnet made out of the finest wool. The fabrics I am wearing feel so different than modern fabric. I feel a draft underneath my skirt. I don’t think I am wearing any underwear, but I am too afraid to check.

Emotions come over me. I feel sad, heartbroken, but I have no memories of why these emotions are with me. In my vision, I see myself having a memory of standing exactly where I am standing now and wondering if I should fling myself off the castle wall. There is no moat around the castle, so any fall would mean instant death. In my past life memory, I have more past life memories of being this age and not growing any older. I think this means I have never had long past lives. The lives I have memories of were short, meaning I never see myself being older than 20 years old.  

I am not sure why there is no one about, but judging from the light in the sky it must be early dawn because the sky is a mixture of pink and yellow clouds.  If this is a castle, it must be poorly defended since I do not see anyone standing watch on this part of the castle.

I put my arms around myself so I can give myself a hug. I am not sure if this is a modern gesture or if people have been comforting themselves like this since the beginning.

I can hear a voice calling me. It’s a woman’s voice. I have a memory of this woman, which is dropped into my brain like raindrop. She's my nurse, which I guess means she is my servant. She has been looking for me, and has now discovered my hiding place. I want to scream at her to leave me alone, but I don’t. This version of myself seems so helpless. She is, I am fragile. I feel my waist. I don’t think I have been very well because I can feel my ribs sticking out. I take one more look around, at the land, my father’s land, our land, and head to the door which has just opened. 

Writing this post while typing on my iPad. It is strange to type on the glass screen. I am watching this horror movie called "Drag me to hell", and it is genuinely scary. Memo to self - do not rent horror movies to watch on Netflix because I get scared too easily. Parts of the movie are actually quite campy and funny, but the scary bits are freaking me out.

What else? I went to see the J W Turner exhibit at the de Young museum on Sunday. I knew Turner was considered a master in art, but I never quite got why until I saw the art in person. There is something about his work that is absolutely breathtaking. His depiction of light is amazing. His light has texture and depth. Who knew light had such substance to it. And it is different from Monet.

Monet depicted light as well, but his light was dappled and transparent. Turner's light is different. His light is so substantial. There are no words to describe his art. And seeing Turner's art in a printed book does not do the art justice. You have to see the work in person.

Art can be such a relevation. I am thinking of the time I saw Van Gogh's Sunflowers at the Tate Museum in London. The sunflowers leapt out of the canvas, and all Van Gogh did was layer the paints in the piece so it had depth. All previous art until then was flat. And then when you see the art of Jay DeFeo, you see paint layering in its extreme with her piece "The Rose".

So if you are in San Francisco, go and see the Turner exhibit at the de Young. I am now dying to see the movie about Turner's life that came out last year, and then going back to see the exhibit. That will be fun.

I thought morning pages might be easy to get into, but the process has not been easy. I used to be so eager to write that getting up early in the morning to do it was no big deal.  Now it is a huge effing deal. I am not sure if my reluctance to get up in the morning is because I am getting old, or it's because I don't have the enthusiasm for writing that I used to have. Most likely it is a combination of both things and then some others.

But I want to get back into it, the problem is I cannot guage that want. Writing used to be like an addiction, like if I didn't write, I thought I would explode with all these voices in my head. Have the voices gone silent? Or have I jus stopped listening for them? Where have all my story characters gone? 

I can hear them, but they seemed so far away. They are saying there is too much clutter in my head and the clutter blocks their voices, their sounds. 

I have a theory about story characters which goes something like this.  If you are writer, and I believe anyone can write, so that's everyone, the story characters find you  They inhabit your mind, hoping you can hear them, because all they want to do is to get their story out. And when you write their story down, they are ecstatic because they want their stories to be told. I don't think much care about the story being published, they just want the story out. But if you can't hear them, they will move on the next person and the next person until they get story out.

And even when their story gets out, some of them will go to another writer and have that writer get their story out, because the new writer will tell their story differently.

I wonder if my story charcters have moved on. I hope not. They say they are still around, but I need to get that that clutter out of my head. They say they are attached to me and they want me to tell their story. I'm glad that they are sticking around.   

Morning pages today have become very late evening pages. I am trying to get to work half an hour earlier now, so I get home at a decent time. But I am not used to it so my whole morning routine is still off a bit. I think if I keep at in in 30 days, I wiill get used to it, at least that is the thought.

I've been listening to reviews on the youtube channel "What the Flick" of Netflix's new series called "Sense8", and the reviewers make me laugh so much. They are having such a hard time with the concept that people could be linked telempathically, and are having such a hard time following the story. I did not have this problem. I am not sure if I agree with how the Wachowskis are portraying what it is like to be telempathic, but I applaud them for trying to do it on tv.  

The conspiracy side of me says that the ideas in Sennse8 are exposing people to what it is like to be hive-mind, where you are an individual but still part of the collective. They are outlining the advantages for human beings to come together and link telepathically.

I am reminded of the sci-fi stories of Olivia Butler, who is one of my favorite science fiction writers.  In her books, one person was able to link all the minds in the story telepathically but I believe they were all linked by DNA, by genetics.

In Sense8, the 8 people are all linked by the fact that they all born on same day.  The show was not explicit on whether it was the same time but definitely the same day.

Watching the reviewers of What the Flick trying to dissect Sense8 made me wonder if I am living in the same world as the reviewers since these ideas of linking minds are normal and easy to understand.

On another topic but still somehwat related, I was listening to an interview on the radio and I got the feeling that the woman I was listening to was coming from a deeply negative space. The interview was like an infomercial for a conference where the person being interviewed was going to the featured keynote speaker. I was half a mind to go to this conference, but hearing this woman being interviewed totally turned me off. I feel like this conference is for beginnners on this topic, and I am more advanced. They were talking about all of these break-out sessions that would be held, but none of those senssions appealed to me on any level because they were all for beginners. 

Again, I felt like I am living in such a different space than most people. Or maybe this means progress for me, because I know I am a fairly negative person myself. But that lady who is the featured speaker for this conference was in an even more negative space. It's like there is no room in her reality for people to have a positive experience on this topic, and if people have had a positive experience they need therapy. Which is such a laugh, since the keynote speaker is a therapist herself.

There are other some speakers at this conference that I would love to hear, but I think it is going to look strange if I don't hear the main speaker. I mean what am I going to do with myself during her session? Stay in my room? The conference is a few months away, so I have time to decide if I want to go. I just think it is so awkward if I go to the conference and ditch the mian speaker.  I guess I could always say I wasn't feeilng well, and needed to rest or lie down. Being sick is such a great classic excuse for getting ouf of events that you do want to attend. Normally it would just freak me out to pay for a conference and miss sessions because I paid to attend the whole conference. But now I am like, maybe I need to do it just so I can hear the other speakers. The conference schedule has not been finalized so I am hoping that when the schedule comes out, I will get a better idea of how many sessions I will have to miss.