I am not sure I agree with the premise that we each get sent back a few times or more until we get things right, although I will admit that I have met some people that definitely have their shit together a lot more than most other people. I am currently reading "Years of Rice and Salt" in anticipation of the re-start of our book club in September, and this is a major theme in the book, so perhaps that's opened my eyes to possibilities.
Every now then, I do notice things that don't entirely make sense, however, that leads me to question whether or not a past life is a possibility. An interesting example of this just happened to me.
We took a short road trip to Duluth yesterday to escape the heat and humidity of Minneapolis. After lunch at Burrito Union we walked the Chester Creek trail, and then Friend Spouse wanted to hang out at Brighton Beach. On our way over to Brighton Beach, I passed a small bead and knife shop on 1st Ave. that advertised Puuko knives. I know what these are - they are traditional Finnish hunting and utility knives, and were often a great source of pride for the owners (if you were really cool, you made your own and it was a work of art). I think I read this at one point, but I can't really recall how I know this.
At any rate, I was drawn back to this shop after dropping Friend Spouse at the beach. Despite not having any real need for one of these in the first place, I looked at the selection on display (all very nice, most hand-made in Finland) and ended up buying one because I was so taken with it. I am not Finnish, either - I can claim German and Belgian heritage only, so ethnic curiosity or pride is not the answer.
Late last night, back at our room, did I do some research into these knives. It turns out that traditionally, the blades on these knives are sized to match the palm width of the owner. Without knowing it, I had unwittingly selected the right size of knife for me (see photo). This afternoon, I made a cold chicken salad for supper, and used the knife to chop vegetables and de-bone chicken. I am not master chef, but t felt like second nature to use this knife. My cuts were even and my slices thin, as if I had used this knife a thousand times before.
It may be as simple as good design in a knife, but there is more of a connection to this inanimate object than I can explain with just facts.
Believers will note that maybe you could be Finnish-German and not even know it: the Baltic wasn't much of an obstacle to old-timey Scandinavians and their longboats. Sisu!Skeptics will say that you seem to know your way around a toolbox, and you arrived at a conclusion about a tool (what knife fits what hand) that had been reached hundreds of times before . . . Nature v. nurture . . .
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