When I speak with people around our globe about different spiritual beliefs on life and on death, one thing is clear: most advanced cultures believe in the perpetuity of our energy.
Most believe what makes up our human identity, characteristic, physicality and emotion is highly influenced from an old tree of ancestry.
That we come from our ancestors seems a simple medical concept, but that we carry the energy of our ancestors can seem esoteric.
We may notice physical characteristics such as eyes that run in the family or height or perhaps even our ability at sport or love of cooking.
But how about the uncle who never had a piano lesson and can play by ear.
Or the niece whose artistic talents appeared on paper the moment she could hold a crayon.
And the nephew who can match the guitar genius of AC/DC?
What type of spirals of energy do we carry within us?
Or are we on that spiral of energy, changing form each life time?
Is it time to stop wondering why we do, what we do and accept it is influenced by our DNA?
While I am a writer, or as I prefer to say a word artist, and truly love to explore sacred topics and the meaning of life on Earth through the word, I have never really understood why. I have never thought I chose to write. Dutch born, English is my second language and the words do not always come easily.
=Q=
After many years of of writing and almost a decade after I wrote my first book A Little Book of Aloha about the beautiful Hawaiian spirit, I felt completely unglued by my career choice. Why had I bothered to spend my entire life savings; research and interview hundreds of people; write books about love and respect with barely a penny to show for it all and a journey of deceit and dodgy publishers?
Some of the answers became clear in 2008 when my mother showed me a book her grandfather – my great-grandfather Jo Bes – had written. It is a diary he wrote during his imprisonment in a Nazi concentration camp in The Netherlands during the second world war. How he hid a book and pen, recording the daily life of his horror without being killed is unknown to us. The book manuscript was found by extended cousins in an attic half a century later and a historical society in The Netherlands published it. Each of my mother’s siblings received a copy. He is the only relative I know of, who was a writer like me.
It is a very sad read and I cannot imagine what it was truly like to be imprisoned in such circumstances. His bravery to write the truth speaks loudly. On one page my Great-Grandfather Bes tells how they counted the bullets during each nightly massacre … one for each person shot.
What stands out is on one of the final pages where he declares his hope for people in Europe to have freedom. It is a diary of horror based on my great-grandfather’s belief in love, freedom and peace.
In learning this, that my great-grandfather wished only for love, freedom and peace: and I saw after 20 years of my own careers, I am extending his work in small ways. Being a word artist allows me to write about these crucial foundations of a good Earth and a loving life through my story telling about healing, Travel, culture, tradition and spirit.
Indeed my life hath elsewhere its beginning, long e’er before I was born.
Warmest Renee
Disclaimer: this blog post is intended as a beautiful and thought-provoking article for entertainment purposes only. It does not constitute medical advice and cannot substitute for medical care. No representations are made as to the completeness of any information and the author is not liable for any losses, injuries or damages from the use of this information.
