For as long as I can remember, I have never felt that I was born at the right time. As if being born in a different era would have been more suitable for me. Now, I’m not speaking on past lives or anything such as that, but as if my soul was much older than I am. I have always been an individual who doesn’t conform to the norm.
That said, it’s perplexing to feel such a connection to something that I’ve never open-heartedly experienced.
I watch movies that appeal to my liking, yet some make me feel more, well, real. It’s not only movies that make me feel this way. Walking into a very old house or visiting a part of history. There are so many things that make me wonder if my time was then.
My mind is full of ideas and plans, but not many of them seem to be in the “now”. This may seem a bit confusing to some. I don’t mean to sound that way. I’m trying to understand this as you are. If my true time was a century ago or more, then what would I have been like then? In today’s time, I’m outspoken, somewhat rebellious, caring and creative. A hundred years ago, these traits may be considered taboo. Would I have the same personality? Or be more mild-mannered?
The more I write, the more in-depth this topic makes me feel. I have been pondering over this for some time. I wondered if I should bring it up, if anyone else has ever felt this way. Do I think I’ve already lived in the past? No, I don’t. I don’t believe in past lives. I believe that the life you’re given is your one and only. I also believe that we are to make the best of the life we’re given, not to dwell on the past, but to move forward and make tomorrow one hundred times better than today. Our life has so much more to offer, if we’re willing to open our eyes, hearts, and minds.
I hope this doesn’t sound contradictory. I adore my life, and the time I’m living. What I’m saying is this: I have an uncanny connection to a different era. To a different time, location, a place. It’s somewhere I’ve never been. A place of simplicity and hope. A place of love and honor. Not of terror and pain.
A place where pursing your passion, whatever it may be, is lifted high, without judgement or expectation. Surrounded by others who have a similar heart and understanding. Maybe I’m longing to be in Paris in an attic apartment writing while my kids play in the background and my husband pursues his dreams. Or possibly, living in the countryside doing the same thing. It’s quite possibly just a dream that I’m longing to live. A dream that I have carried throughout my life that would bring joy to my heart.
This life is mine, comfortable or not. Imagining myself doing amazing things, in a time that amazing wasn’t easily grasped, sounds empowering. I know there is no time like the present to jump into the world, out of my comfort zone and make things happen, which is why I’m here. Writing has been my vice. My entire life has been written. For as long as I can remember, sharing feelings through spoken words hasn’t come as easily as writing them. My mind is flowing at all times. I write blog posts, poetry, letters and more, all of which will probably never be unleashed. As I can be outspoken, I tend to keep my most intimate feelings inside.
There are many aspects of life that leave me in question. For the time being, I’m reserved to the fact that I am living the life that I’m meant to live. That I’ve been placed in the proper place, at the proper time.
However, I do enjoy that comfortable feeling that I get from time to time, imagining how much fun I’d have as myself in 1920s France!
Happy Wednesday friends!
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