Sometimes, as I did earlier this morning, I write for society as it is, today. Sometimes, however, I write for people who understand what I'm saying, whether those be a handful now, or society in the future.
I was just writing my (short) grocery list, and I started experimenting with rendering some of the letters as I know Mathew would have written them. The upward-sloping small letter "s"; the tall "hat" on the upstroke of the small letter "p"; the top of the small letter "a" left slightly open.
Sudden I got a sense of what was the same, and what has changed. What reincarnated, and what didn't. A very clear glimpse.
Mathew's physical body, obviously, was different (despite the fact I look generally like him). His personality, with its foundation of past experiences, was different. His personal mind was different (though not too dissimilar). It's a different brain. It's a different era.
So, specifically, the handwriting he had come to use and identify with, came out of a different personality context. I suddenly remembered using it, just now, for the first time. I had a flash of who I am, as I use this handwriting style. I remembered how I felt about writing with that sloping letter "s," and that "p." I can't explain it, but it was quite distinct.
And yet, as you can clearly see if you've read the last 2-3 entries, my higher mind is precisely the same; and, all of my feelings and emotions have carried over, intact.
So this appears to be what reincarnates, specifically--the higher mind, with its values, inclinations, and world-view--and the feelings and emotions. The rest of it generally (with allowances for occasional about-faces), doesn't fall too far from the reincarnational tree.
All of these are research topics for the reincarnation science of the future. I don't know anybody else who is studying these questions, now. I do know that some of the Theosophists claim that it is only the emotional self which reincarnates--I think my study clearly proves them wrong on this point, if they would take the time to read it. If I ever came seriously to their attention, that is.
But I don't know of anyone who has made a careful, systematic study of it.
That's all. I have to get my laundry out of the dryer, and then go to the grocery store. It was just a brief glimpse, anyway. Up until now, I have never been able to even imagine myself using this handwriting style. Suddenly, a memory of it kicked in--I remembered, at least, what it felt like. But I don't know how to convey it, in words. I remembered a sort of consolidated impression of what it meant to me, along with how I developed it, or how I was taught it. Why I thought it was elegant (I still do). That it was a contemporary style. That I was proud of having mastered it. That it gave me--having a rural farm-boy background--a sense of legitimacy as a writer, and as a literary man.
That's the best I can explain it. If I had to express it in just one sentence, I'd have to say it was a different self who wrote in this style, with a different personal background--but the same mind above it, guiding it.
What about today? My handwriting is awful. I'm ashamed of it. In third grade, when I developed it, I was in the advanced reading group, which was all girls except for myself. I copied the style of the girl sitting next to me, and I have never been able to shake the feminine influence in it. But then, I think I was a female writer in the early 20th century. So apparently that is bleeding through. But the handwriting I have always wished I had, is precisely the type of handwriting I discovered that Mathew did have.
Here's a sample from the only (physical) letter I own in Mathew's hand:
I will also say that the music I'm opening this page with--"Gem," by Eric Johnson--perfectly expresses Mathew Franklin Whittier's "energy signature," his personality. That's his unique vibration--I feel it deep, deep down. But I would be at a lost to articulate it, so we will leave it there.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
Music opening this page: "Gem," by Eric Johnson,
from the album, "Up Close"