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mtscholar:
Joni Mitchell, one of my loves in this life, sings about folks from her part of Canada being "such sky-oriented people." This Jersey boy is as well, in the following way: when it's unambiguously sunny outside--blue skies, minimal clouds, the whole bit, I am often --- infused with a sense ---  of lives in tropical and especially Mediterranean climes, both ancient Greece and the US Southwest and Mexico. My entire life has been about living in northern climes and feeling incredibly drawn to the flora, fauna, weather, and ways of life of more southerly places. The first time my Dad took me on a trip to Florida (I was 8), I went ecstatically berserk upon seen my "first" palm tree.

More somber skies put me in the mind of NYC in the 1940s, or was it London, walking by shop after shop after shop. Not as pleasant a set of recollections, but equally evocative.

Nancy:
Are you sure you aren't my cousin Chris, from Jackson NJ?  ;-).   

Anyway, I have always been drawn to places that were reminiscent of where my ancestors came from.  I'll try to explain this so its not clear as mud. - about weather/climate and about reincarnation.  Stay with me, please?

I grew up on Eastern Long Island....so yeah, I get the whole 1940's NYC B/W image and although my personal "Miami Beach" has always been pastureland, with mountains and hills.   My grandfather, who I was uuber close to, came from Cyprus.  A lot of my childhood was spent with his stories of "home".  So maybe he imprinted those images on my brain (I still have a major desire to go there someday, my brother already has)....when I had a past life reading, I was told that I had previously lived in Lebanon, Latin America, Atlantis and colonial America.  Or maybe its the Lebanon lifetime that creates my wanderlust (Gibran talks to me as no other writer, save Gabriel Garcia Marquez, does).

Sigh.  Well I live in New Zealand now.  It is the only place (outside of the Cordillera Central in Puerto Rico) where I felt at "home" where it wasn't my birthplace.  I live in the wop wops (countryside).  Mountains, valleys, sheep and cows.   One day, oh about six months ago after I'd returned from the States, I was in my hammock and I had an aha moment, where I realised that I had "arrived".  I had attained that dream location.  I even said to the husband, holy h*ll, I've gone full circle.  One of us (the family) made it back to the paddock with the sheep!  heh :-)

Interestingly enough, as a kid, I've always been super sensitive to the seasons.  I lived in South Florida for 12 years before we moved here and I hadn't realised how off the hook I had been, in terms of that sensitivity to the seasons, and to the way the light is and changes.

<if you have made it this far, you deserve a cookie, or a Long Island Iced Tea, or maybe both? ;-) >

In summary, (finally) I think that a preference for a locale or for certain weather, may well be a memory (cell memory) from a previous lifetime.  I have found the older I get, the more certain things seem to be familiar when there is no way in Hades that is possible realistically.  But then again, the older I get, the less the outer externally programmed layers have fallen away too.  Internal 4th monad stuff.

Blessings
Nancy







--- Quote from: mtscholar on May 30, 2011, 07:22:17 AM ---Joni Mitchell, one of my loves in this life, sings about folks from her part of Canada being "such sky-oriented people." This Jersey boy is as well, in the following way: when it's unambiguously sunny outside--blue skies, minimal clouds, the whole bit, I am often --- infused with a sense ---  of lives in tropical and especially Mediterranean climes, both ancient Greece and the US Southwest and Mexico. My entire life has been about living in northern climes and feeling incredibly drawn to the flora, fauna, weather, and ways of life of more southerly places. The first time my Dad took me on a trip to Florida (I was 8), I went ecstatically berserk upon seen my "first" palm tree.

More somber skies put me in the mind of NYC in the 1940s, or was it London, walking by shop after shop after shop. Not as pleasant a set of recollections, but equally evocative.



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