Do you believe in past lives? Have you ever met someone and they feel strangely familiar and comfortable, like you already share inside jokes and memories? Or kissed someone for the first time and your body immediately recognized theirs as home?

I asked a pastor once if he believed in past lives. He replied, “Certainly not.” His certainty immediately shut down our conversation. It left no room for pondering.

I used to crave certainty because it calmed my lizard brain. But now I see how too much of it closes off other possibilities. Prevents us from wondering. From being curious and interested and asking deeper questions.

I don’t want to be certain about everything. I want to live in a state of childlike wonder. To explore the unknown and mystery with wide eyes and an open heart. To make room for magic. I want to laugh and cry and kiss you, convinced that this visceral connection is proof we were sisters or lovers in a past life.