What does your original face look like?

Have you ever thought of that? Have you ever looked in a mirror, and said, this isn't me....Who am I? I've said that before. This isn't me. My past lives sometimes come to the surface, and the one I see in the mirror, isn't who I am In my head.

I know, once long ago, I was a nun. In a mountain land, in a high castle like structure. I had on gray robes with pink aprons and caps. I remember walking the empty room high in the castle walls and looking out over the snow capped mountains, and feeling like I was in some kind of trouble. But I couldn't see my face. The walls were unadorned, no mirrors. But what did I think I looked like, that isn't clear either.

that's the only past life I have any clear picture of. I believe once I was shot, with an arrow or bullet, in my right upper breast. I think it was an arrow, and the spot still hurts me at times. I also remember being by a huge stone wall and by the beach and the water lifting up, and coming over me and then nothing. The wave was HUGE. I do remember that, and though I was far from the water, it still came up and over me. I remember trying to hold my breath, but to no avail. I do remember the beach was not like the ones I know now, but lots of rocks and dirt, not sand. Black rocks.... Almost like lava rocks.

I also remember making my way thru a town that had been destroyed. Crawling thru houses and basements that looked like a bomb had destroyed them. An elevator that seemed to burst thru the roof of a building, but I knew it was that the building was falling. And I remember Micheal. My baby, and how they took him from me, to get him to safety, and I stayed because I couldn't move, and I knew I would not survive. And I remember how I cried so much because he was going and I would never see his sweet face again.

Sometimes bits and pieces come back. A checkaboard floor, black and white. A flickering fluorescent light over a center island in a kitchen that was a crome and stainless steal. Knowing as I stood there that someone terrible was coming for me. The fear, and at the same time, the understanding that It was what it was, and that running was not an option.

I remember a cave also. Warm and dark. How in the morning the mists came into the cave low to the floor. And how I was always afraid that snakes were in the mist, but I had to go out and take the sheep to the hills to eat.

I remember a man, who would flick a lighter, and in the flames he became someone else, someone horrible, and I would hide, In cabinets and such, so that he wouldn't find me. Almost like he had some kind of split personality, and the sight of fire would drive him mad

And I remember this life, which was nice, happy, warm and sweet. One of the best childhoods kid could ask for! And I enjoyed my childhood with a relish for life that could only mean that my last lives were horrible. I remember thinking that food was fantastic, and I would never be hungry again.... And books, lovely books, to read and live in. An TV how fantastic to see story's come to life right in front of me. And being happy, very happy. To laugh in the sun, and feel one with the earth.

Are past lives possible? Yes I firmly believe that. And though I don't know what awaits me in the next, happiness, fear, hunger, love, I anticipate it, and wait for it, and look forward to it. What wonders will I see? What people will I love? What pain would I suffer? Does it matter? No, for just living life is the biggest wonder of them all.

Maybe that's the answer to what did my original face look like, it looked like many other people, men and women, child and slave. Does it matter what your face looked like now or then, when the wonders you have seen and lived are all that really matter?

Come good or bad, I'm ready. And with each life I will bring something from my old life, a wish, a longing, and sadness....But what does it matter. For your face is only your face to the people who see you.