I once supported a friend of mine on one of those loony quests of self discovery as you do and agreed to try past life regression with her. Once was enough. Whatever the correct explanation for that experience was, I was “transported” to a time when I died absolutely distraught that I hadn’t killed more people on my master’s crusade. For a few seconds it all felt truly justified, I was even brought to tears. Took a while to come to terms with that one. I guess becoming a writer is what they call karma…

Joking apart, you only have to watch a toddler have a tantrum and imagine putting a gun in their hand to understand how thin the veil of civilization really is. Even recently in my sleep village, watching our friendly neighbours start posting judgemental comments about the quality of other neighbours’ weekly clap for the health service during lockdown, which was to show positive appreciation, became something to start fearing. What could it lead to? Public lynchings? How much louder can I make it? Show more enthusiasm? More kitchen utensils? A beautiful act borne of deep and authentic gratitude to our heroes of the pandemic became a witch hunt and as such an onerous task we daren’t miss, not quite in the league of praising Kim Jong Un while you watch your family starve to death, but still, the smiles on everyone’s faces as we all subconsciously checked attendance, reminded me of North Korea. How quickly we turn on each other in times of stress is terrifying.

Photo by Wyron A on Unsplash

Mother, author, poet, educator, escapee. Obsessed with finding ease in relationships, health, wellbeing and the juggling of life. alexisbehrend.com