I’ve felt a need to start fresh, to mark a definitive end – in my own mind, at the very least – to something I was, or was doing, or was a part of, to be ‘born again’ at certain points in my life. And despite my anti-christian sentiments, I love that term. I look at the (non-linear) progression of my life as a series of death and rebirth cycles, in a way, but not in the same sense I used to.
When I was younger, I made a conscious effort to disassociate from the person I was; the memories were someone else’s memories, the life wasn’t mine, not mine at all. Because I wouldn’t be the same fucked over, beaten down, used and abused nice guy that I’d been before. So when it came to death and rebirth back then, it was in the sense that I’d left behind and condemned the person I had been so that I could become the person I wanted to be, maybe the person I felt I deserved to be. And who I was… simply died. While I don’t think the process of alterations, condemnation, and ‘self-shaping’ can really be undone (nor do I think it should be downplayed, as I will always and forever be a bit of a selfish prick that values vanity, strength, personal responsibility, etc.), it also isn’t the way I look at or approach the idea of rebirth anymore.
Now, I tend to look at it as a case of changes that correlate to (or at least resemble) the physiological. I had an example in mind that, in reading up on it, turns out to have plenty of contradictory information available, but the idea is still useful for what I mean to say: overall, the body replaces most or all of its cells every seven to ten years. While the truth of that is disputable, the idea remains usable: change is more or less unavoidable, in form and function, whether in spirit, body, or mind. I’ll put it this way: I’m not trying to be reborn, I’m (mindfully and/or instinctively) transforming.