Birth is the only way we enter this world, and death is our only exit. We all share this truth of human existence—and yet our births and our deaths are as individual unique as each of us. Imagine!
A new soul, entering the world from the vessel of another body! A new soul, arriving by Divine choice and by Divine selection of a particular mother, a particular father.
The miracle of welcoming a new soul affects us so deeply, it’s almost impossible to express everything we hold in our heart. Sit down a group of mothers of any age or stage of childrearing, and the stories will come tumbling out …
“My first child struggled, and was delivered by cesarean. She spent three days in intensive care.”
“My baby was delivered in two hours, it was the easiest, most beautiful thing I’d ever known.”
“We delivered our youngest on the side of the highway, while racing to the hospital.”
“My fifth child came on a full moon, on the eve of summer solstice. “
“My child arrived with a full head of black hair, which he has kept to this day.”
Each birth, so breathtakingly unique. The baby is born. The baby is cleansed. The baby is swaddled and returned to the mother, and the moment is overwhelmingly beautiful.
This is how we humans enter the world, and it is a miracle.
Most us don’t remember the moment of our birth—the seconds in which we were pulled from our mother’s warm, sustaining womb into a new life.
Of course, some of us do—in my work as a spiritual teacher and intuitive counselor, I often guide people in past life regressions. Doing this work, I’ve come across a few folks who do indeed recall their gestation, their birth, the weeks and months after birth when they were very new to the world. These people recall holding the very stars in their eyes until those memories gently fade, and by age four or five they have replaced the dazzling energy of the Universe, with the more gritty reality of life on earth.
Yet most of us remember nothing of our births, of these early years. We don’t remember the Universe reflected in our eyes. We don’t recall the mystery. Many of us don’t even awaken to the miracle of our own humanity until the ages of 13, 26, 49, 78….
When any child is born however, there is a universal knowing that this is a miracle. We understand with deep recognition that there is now a new soul on earth, and that this innocent new being will surely live, love, struggle, learn, and embark on life’s path with his or her destiny already partly foretold by the time and place in which he or she is born.
Will he succeed? Will she fail? Will he find love? Will she marry?
Will he have life’s passion? Will she have a life’s purpose?
Will he or she find the Divine as a guiding post, so that their hearts may be opened fully, and that each moment may appear as miraculous as the moment of their birth, in which they are born, cleansed, swaddled?
We don’t know. Life is a mystery. At the moment of a new soul’s birth, a new entry into this world, we see this clearly: how little we know, how much is mystery—how much is sheer wonder. And at this moment, we revisit again the progression of our own lives, and the miracle it is to have a lifetime at all.
Close your eyes, and allow yourself to drift into a memory of when you were born, a new soul to the world. You may recall the blanket you had, the room you slept in, a toy. You may be surprised how much you remember! Think about your birth, and give thanks that you were born, to experience this lifetime.
(Excerpted from Living a Life of Gratitude).
