We all have different versions of us… Who we are… Who we’ve been… Who we want to be… Like spiritual plastic surgery, we’ve all evolved. -And we’re evolving.
Sometimes the surgery – the changing force – is us, intentionally.
Other times, however, the changing force isn’t us…when something happens in our life unexpectedly. Not planned.
The different versions of us make up a spectrum of who we. -Expressions of being. A version isn’t always completely different from prior or subsequent versions, there being shade variations in the versions themselves though some versions are shadeless/completely unique in and of themselves.
In truth, versions of who’ve you been are still alive, and you can re-ignite certain versions (or parts of them) to make the best version of YOU right now, to increase happiness in your life.
Read this poem about a version of me so that you can understand where I’m going with this…
“Details”
As I open the cabin door wide open, its aged and splotched hinges creaking with orange and bronze rust, – in a split second – I suddenly realize that I’ve done this before, though not sure when. I tingle ever so slightly as the breeze of “Desha vu” feathers over me.
And again, like before and so many other times, I see you, and clearly. Your bright blue eyes gaze upon me, firm in delivery, opening windows of the soul. Like a black light upon darkness bestowing darkness no more, I see you for who you truly are and were, and we. Our blue eyes lock.
I’m sorry that it took me so long to get here. I’d like to tell you that I got lost for some legitimate reason, but that wouldn’t be true. As I stand here, amidst the cold winter sky and the fallen leaves curled up against the fresh snow this December day, I feel the shade of the cabin in which I stand and in which you sit. I hear the tempo of the wind amidst the rustling of the dead, calico leaves. I smell the elderly, alive cedar wood which frames the cabin, while cold air separating the logs interstices warmth around us. My feet hurt from walking, and I am tired. I am hungry and weak. I am infantly joyful, however, to have finally made it back home. There you are, sitting on the cabin floor playing with black and white kittens, as if I’d just left the cabin a few minutes ago, decades having in-fact passed since I last remember your presence. You haven’t aged at all, still the same blonde, blue-eyed five-year-old girl that my memories corroborate. The kittens jump around, joyfully playing, black and white color palettes creating their own individual, yet collective designs and you yours, you chasing them with your smiles and half-laugh breaths of air.
“It has been too long. I am sorry,” I say to you. I look down to the floor, feeling embarrassed, such time having elapsed time since our separation. You gracefully and non-judgmentally whisper back to me, “You are here, and that’s all that matters.”
And so it was.
“Details Explained”
When I was a little girl, my parents used to have a small, wooden shed in the back of our house in rural Harrodsburg, Kentucky where my three sisters and I would play. It was somewhat old and rickety, smelling of lawnmower oil (it housed the lawnmower), but still evoking a strong, safe, and inviting place for us to play.
That shed was a special, magic place. Sometimes it was a clubhouse for us. Other times, the shed was a headquarters for our magic kingdom that just so happened to have a large green monster of a lawnmower in it that appeared like a ravenous bull about to plow forward through any outside threat, though always gentle toward us. Like a mean, green protector of we three children in its refuge.
I remember one winter playing in that shed with a mother cat and her baby kittens. The mother had taken her kittens there for shelter from the harsh winter cold. The front doors of the shed were somewhat uneven, such that the mother cat could pry open one of the doors for entry with her paw, which she regularly did. That winter, we played with the mother cat and her kittens religiously, like a secret club that would meet for sessions, familial visits with each other. What wonderful times those were, full of freedom and simplicity, quests being only to use our imagination and care for the mother cat and her kittens in that small, strong, angel-protected shed.
Money didn’t matter back then. Not that money didn’t exist, or the game of money wasn’t going on in the outside world. Our perspective was perfectly beautiful then because to us, imperfections didn’t exist. We didn’t see imperfections. We didn’t see the oil smell or the uneven shed as imperfections. We saw everything as the ay it was supposed to be, perfect and possible, where imagination was the only currency needed in addition to love. That beautiful space where we could commune together, let our imagination run free, and enjoy the delight and joy of playing in life.
A part of me is still in that shed playing with my sisters and those kittens. It never, ever left. I’m still there. That version of me still exists.
You are no different. You too have different versions of you in special places, just waiting to be found. This is because versions of us never die. None of them. We just develop different versions of who we are along the way.
Think about and find former versions of you, and there are many. What versions of you do you miss? Do you have a favorite childhood version of you from a time when you felt the happiest? When you felt a spectacular breed of joy on your face that seemingly nothing could erase? Go see that version of you. What’s that version of you doing? What does happiness mean to that version of you? Embrace that version (or versions) of you that you miss. You can visit multiple versions. You’re not limited to one. If you have trouble making this journey, then open a box of old pictures and see which version of you jumps out of the box and grabs your heart and takes you there, to that place, to that time, to that moment when you felt the most alive, the most electric and vivid, when you emanated joy like an aura of the heavens.
From an energetic, metaphysical standpoint, all versions of you still exist, are alive. Who you’ve been… Who you are… All those versions are embedded and active in the heavenly Akashic records. You can visit and commune with those versions, so connect with them. Every version of you… Literally take yourself in, your own light, which is why you can always be found.
Moreover, you can re-kindle the versions that resonate with you, that bring you happiness. That make you feel alive, for in truth the versions of you at this high emotional state are wildly alive, still existing in the here and now if only we will reach for their hand and join forces with those parts that still reside with us.
Yes, I have many versions 😀