I’m reblogging this post for a certain someone. You know who you are.
This baby goes from joy to despair in six seconds
Some people think that you can choose your parents*. This morning, for some reason, I woke up thinking about this idea.
What would it really mean to make a choice like that?
And, if you could choose your parents, what else would you be choosing? How much information would you be given when making such a choice?
What might the process of this choosing look like?
Putting it into context (in other words, “me”) this is one possible imagining…
There I was floating in time and space. I didn’t know if it was heaven or hell. Maybe it was neither.
I was aware of my sense of self. I knew I was an incorporeal form.
Drifting, I ended up at a structure that looked like a car dealership. I made my way inside.
Before me there were choices…
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Shouts from the Abyss 
I got common sense knocked into me, not out of me. I learned the value of respect and trust. Learned how to stand up for the underdog, take chances and keep my head held high. Found that I could roll with the bumps, go with the flow and still keep my chit together. I could make major mistakes, be thrown into the gutter and washed clean by the rain. I learned how to Stand, to Believe, to Act. Instead of running from something that frightens me, I should run toward the center of it’s universe to understand its weakness.
Trade my parents? You’ve got to be kidding! I got here by earning my entry fee.
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