My Soul has known a lot of lives, and the earliest was maybe Stone Age and an adult male. I was arguing with another male, and he was holding a thick tree root that looked like a long handgrip at one end and the other end had a sharp beak-like piece sticking out. He won the argument by burying the sharp bit deep into the frontal bone of my skull into the brain beneath. I have always suffered from intense headaches around that area, and I guess the makeshift weapon was never removed from the skull. The second incarnation, or rather death, was an older white-whiskered Egyptian male wandering out of the desert to a camp where the main tent (indigo and dirty white striped ) was awaiting. There were rocks on the ground at my feet, and I had a pair of worn leather sandals. A faded robe covered me from head to foot. A long wooden staff was in my right hand. On the ring finger was a heavy gold ring with an iris-sized cabouchon red garnet set there. Around the bicep of my left arm was a heavy gold carved armband, bearing the symbols "priest of Amun Ra". The cause of my death must have been hiding unseen and I didn't feel a thing. I have a bent rib, the 4th on the left side, that is so painful I cannot stand the spot being touched! The 3rd was in India, a young 19ish woman in charge of two young children; black-haired well-dressed boys aged about 6 and 3. We're in a room, high up in a red stone fortress. I'm wearing a brightly-colored sari (orange and saffron) and I have silver bracelets and anklets that jingle. There is a revolt outside and a seething screeching wall of peasants and foreign soldiers breech the gates and then the doors, and I gather the youngest boy to me and try to hide him in the folds of the sari. The older little boy I pull behind me, and I know with finality we are doomed. There is a huge dark wooden carved screen with strutting peacocks on it, and suddenly all the elegance and wealth in this place seem obscene. The mob reach us, and I am torn to pieces still trying to defend the boys. My last thought is compassion for these screaming angry people; they are poor and have nothing, and the Palace and those in it with their treasures and jeweled belongings seem disgusting. There are more, but I will post these later. I look forward to reading any of your thoughts on this. Thank you for believing, like me, that our Souls gone on and on.