Asanogawa Bridge, Kanazawa, Japan.
My earliest memory of arriving on this Earth is, I believe, the morning after I was born.
I was lying in one of many clear plastic bassinets. Looking toward the window on my right,
I noticed the soft morning light and understood that a new day had begun.
Then a smiling woman leaned over and gazed down at me with such warmth and joy.
Without hesitation, I knew.
"This is my mother."
To the left of my bassinet was a large glass window. Families came and went, gathering to see the newborn babies. For reasons I still cannot explain, I could clearly distinguish between my own family and everyone else's. Somehow, I knew when the people looking at me were not my family, and I knew when my family had come to see me.
Although I could not yet speak, I understood everything that was being said around me. My awareness felt no different from the way it feels today.
One day, my parents took me on an outing. My mother and I rode a small Shinkansen-themed attraction, while my father stayed behind to take a photograph of us.
I still remember thinking,
"Isn't Dad coming with us? Why doesn't he ride too? I want him to enjoy this as well."
Many years later, while looking through a family photo album, I discovered that I had been only six months old at the time.
These memories have led me to believe that we are far more than we imagine ourselves to be.
Perhaps we are not merely physical beings living a human life.
We are, perhaps, far greater souls and expressions of consciousness than we realize.