America. That is where I have been for the past three, now four lives. These lives are not really impressive. Well, the middle one might be if I chose to talk about it, but I won't... Because that one is a historical figure that some of my geekier readers might recognize and that would be too much like me bragging. I'm not a vain person. The only thing I will say about it is that I was male and forty-six when I died of cancer. There are many who still value and contribute to the work of that life today, so the less I say about it the better. Some would call me a liar, and others would go all fan-girl on me. Creepy.
Prior to that, I incarnated in the America West during the 1800s. Not a fun time for Native Americans. I (think) I was Pueblo and almost certainly called Angry Sparrow. I was hanged for horse rustling in the West though I still maintain my innocence. I was just a convenient scapegoat. This life only reinforced my sense of justice. I am not inclined to be very forgiving of anyone who willfully harms anyone, but especially not for reasons of race or creed.
And in the life just prior to this one, I was a fifteen year old girl in the 60s. I was abducted by someone. I may have known my abductor in passing; I'm not sure. I may also have been drugged, which explains why my memories are so vague on this one and how I died. We were in a car in the mountains somewhere, and as the car went around a turn, I opened the door and jumped. I'm sure you can guess what happened. This being my most recent life, it had a huge impact on me. From about the age of thirteen till I was sixteen, I had this horrible urge to jump out of any car I rode in. At its worst, I would lock the door just in case I wouldn't be able to control my urge. Once I got past the age I died in that life, car doors stopped being much of an issue. It was just any time I got into a car, this desperate urgency to get away consumed my thoughts.
These lives, even more than those previously mentioned, explain my sense of right and wrong and my frustration with humanity in general. For a race which refers to itself as homosapiens sapiens... man the wise, the wise... were aren't very. My current life may well be the last life I choose to come back at all. You could say I am a Bodhisattva if you're familiar with the term, even if I'm not a very good one.
There are likely lives I have not recalled as of yet. As I seem to recall most of my lives around the age I died in them, there could be many lives where I actually managed to reach old age. That would be a welcome change considering forty-six is the oldest I've managed get so far, and while in that life at least I was not murdered... intestinal cancer is a really bad way to go. Being murdered might almost have been preferable.