The New Age
When I was 10 or 11, I went through what can best be described as a "New Age" phase. Now, being a pre-teen from the suburbs with limited means as well as transportation, my "new age phase" probably pales grossly into comparison to anyone else who's ever truly embarked on a different spiritual path. (I never even got to burn incense.) But I did develop a rather unhealthy obsession with The Nature Gallery catalog (crystals and wrapped-dolphin rings) and dream interpretation. (At the time, all I dreamed about were tests that I had forgotten to study for, so it really wasn't worth the seven dream dictionaries, but I suppose bygones are bygones.)
Also, and I say this with a little more shame, during this time I decided that I really needed to explore my past lives. (Side note: this is what happens to an impressionable younggirl left alone with daytime television. Between guests of Phil Donahue andSally Jesse Raphael and the musings of Shirley Maclaine, I had a lot ofunanswered questions.)
Since, my parents always let me read whatever I wanted(“She’s reading, what more do you want?” as my father would say), after my last tome on dream interpretation, I switched to books with titles like Uncovering Your Past Lives and How the Worlds You Lived Before Affect The World You Live Now.
In my imagination, I was a princess or incredibly sassy innkeeper's wife along the lines of the character from Les Miserables. (I was obsessed with musicals, too. And as I've said before, and as I'm sure I'll say again, yes, elementary school was not easy with these kinds of interests.) I also figured I was bound to figure out my fear of heights once I discovered which of my past lives had led to a disastrous fall off of Mt. Kilimanjaro or a horrible push from the Brooklyn Bridge.
(These days, I imagine my fear of heights came from falling out of a tree house at nine and breaking both of my arms, but past lives were so much more romantic.)
One of the books I picked up at this time had very detailed instructions on to how to hypnotize yourself and discover the mysteries of the "soul's journey." (Having to stop, open your eyes and read the next step in the quest for deep relaxation and inner exploration of the mind seemed a tad counter-productive to the goal even then, but I gave it many a go anyway.) For at least a week, I dimmed the lights of my room, sat in the quiet and tried to access the hidden corners of my brain where these past life memories were stored.
The closest I ever got to a past life "revelation" was a recurring image of a red-headed woman in a gauzy white dress who bore a striking resemblance to the cover of another book I was reading at the time.
My truest epiphany was learning to spend my weekly allowance on The Babysitter's Club books instead. If nothing else, Claudia offered better fashion tips.