I'm no skeptic when it comes to reincarnation, having had the odd thousand lives or so myself. After all, I am a Gypsy. I grew up with those ‘otherworldly’ experiences being the ‘norm’.
However, I was in for quite a surprise a while back when I was invited to join a group of like-minded believers for a light afternoon tea.
The guest list read like a who's who of the ancient world.
Among my fellow tea-takers was none other than King Tut; Joseph - yes the biblical one; two of the famous Marys - almost a family reunion happening there; Caesar; King Henry VIII; Catherine of Aragon - that could have been awkward; Chief Sitting Bull, and various other notable figures of our world's illustrious past.
Very prestigious company indeed.
Now, I'm not one to scoff at another person's past life, but have you ever noticed how all the best lives have already been taken?
That led me to wonder what I might have done to deserve a thousand life times of poverty and servitude.
Why was I always a servant, a beggar, a thief, a lowly peat cutter, goat herder or poor farmer scratching out a living, when all my friends were rich, famous or royal?
Why was I, with all my lives of experience, not worthy of being the Queen of the Nile?
Oh, sorry, I forgot - that one's been taken too.
While I was pondering the enormity of it all, Sherlock Holmes and the Scarlet Pimpernel sat down either side of me with their scones and cups of tea.
I jest not!
I was very good. I didn't laugh. Not even once. Well... okay, so I had to drop my spoon and duck under the table for a quick snigger or two.
"How did you find out about your past lives?" I asked them - straight faced, I swear.
They exchanged meaningful glances before Scarlet informed me that she'd seen a psychic who'd told her all about it.
"Me too," said Sherlock.
"The same psychic?" I asked.
They nodded wisely.
That explained a lot!
They both continued to extol the virtues of ‘Madam X’ who was very widely read, you know. She even had books about their past personas that, as their luck would have it, were for sale.
Yes, I was beginning to get the picture.
"And if it's not a rude question," I did have to keep my smile from becoming an ear to ear grin at this stage, "how much did you pay for your session with ‘Madam X’?"
"Only seventy-five dollars," Scarlet bubbled.
"The books were extra," Sherlock explained, accidentally slipping into a very dignified English accent.
Of course they were! I nearly bit a chunk out of my delicate tea cup.
Ah yes... I see it all so clearly now. I'm in the wrong profession.
I shouldn't be struggling away in front of a computer to hone my writing skills. I shouldn't be an animal energy therapist, working for love and not for money. I shouldn't even be trying to sell my paintings.
Yes. It's as clear as the nose on my face.
I should throw away my reading stones and give up being a Gypsy fortune teller for $15 per reading. I should be a psychic!
That’s obviously where the big bucks are. Not to mention the fact that I then might be able to save a good past life or two for myself.
I finished off my tea and gazed meaningfully into the cup. "Did I ever tell you about the time I was a princess?"
Their eyes lit up.
"Well, you see, my mother died when I was young and my father remarried when I was about 16. I'd been an only child up until then but my step mother had three daughters..."
Keep on smiling