What if you new exactly how long you have left?

What if you knew exactly how much time you had left on planet Earth--in you current human host bodymind? With this knowledge, what would you be doing differently?
     Let's say you have nine years--that you know for certain that you will be leaving your human bodymind in nine years. How will this affect the choices you make . . .  today, as well as the plans you make for your now-limited future? Would you keep up all of the patterns you have in your life currently? Would you communicate the same way you do now with a) your loved ones and b) strangers? Would you put more time, energy and focus into any other pursuits? Like travel? Reading? Religion/spirituality? Partying? Funeral/wake/memorial service planning? Would you continue spending your money on all of the same things you do now? Would you invest more time and energy into contributing to the future welfare of your loved ones or to community service projects? Would you be more interested in spending more time alone, with yourself, or in groups, socially, with others?
     The problem with the nine years issue is that it's too long for one to just spend, too long to try to go without ever paying bills and taxes (unless I want jail time to be part of the way I spend the nine years), too long to stop taking care of oneself and one's possessions (if I want them to continue working for me while I'm still here). I could resign myself to a hermetic life, sealed up in a room with books, music, Internet, paper and pens, meditation and farm-fresh food. I am ill-equipped for survival in a nomadic lifestyle, yet that is always a possibility (as it is for us all). I am not sure that I am ready to lead the life of a mendicant beggar, but that is another possibility that would attract many extraordinary experiences my way, I am sure. Leisure and travel require some kind of money or means to earming one's daily bread and nightly bed. I could figure this out. But would I enjoy it? Would I end up regretting those choices?

     How is Life meant to be lived? 

"Jean-Peyre"

Journeyman Paul has used Homo sapiens sapiens for many incarnations during the last 12,000 years. More than a few of these lives have been spent within religious orders or religiously-defined societies or vocations. Today I will present one of Paul's incarnations within pre-Reformation Europe. In this lifetime, Paul chose a French male for his host. At the time, France and all of Western Europe were very thoroughly immersed within the moral and societal structures dictated by the Roman Catholic Church. Rémy (later called Jean-Peyre) came from a typical rural communal village in Occitan or Langue d'Oc--an agricultural community called Belvézet which was located in the rugged hills above Les Seynes river, a tributary of the Gard[on], in what is the present day département of Gard, which was a western part of the Rhone River watershed in Southern France, northwest of the cities of Nîmes and Avignon.

     Born at the end of the 12th Century A.D., Rémy was his mouther's firstborn. After a series of miscarriages from his young mother, there followed the births of a series of sisters who managed to survive birth and infancy. Rémy was not, however, the first born of his father, Guillaume. He had a song from a previous marriage named Guichon. Guichon was five years older than Rémy. Guillaume was a taciturn man who was often absent from the family home for long stretches of time due to his tending to the seasonal moves of his animals (primarily sheep). The father's affection for Rémy was diminished by the boy's frailty. Rémy's older step-brother, Guichon, was also often absent as he was considered indispensable to his father. As with Rémy, Guillaume's affection and attention for his family members was tied directly into their utilitarian use to him. 

     Sickly as a child, Rémy did not grow up very strong, confident or motivated. Being disregarded by his father, Rémy became a cherished companion and helper to his mother, especially in the care of his young sisters, whom he adored (though thought of more as domesticated animals). Thus, his physique, character and traits quite naturally inclined more toward the effeminate (which caused even greater disdain and disinterest from his father).   

     At this time, it was fairly common practice for families to "unburden" themselves of male children that were viewed as probably having little to contribute to the agricultural chain of life (especially a sickly child such as Rémy). This could take the form of live-in jobs in the employ of larger local farms or apprenticeships to local trades and crafts men, but it was more common for the "sickly" boys to be farmed out to local religious or clerical opportunities. In this region there existed many local monasteries. Around the age of 11 or 12, Rémy's family found placement for him in a local monastery near Uzès. There it was planned that he would commit to the training with the intention/goal of, hopefully, one day entering the Benedictine order. For whatever reason, Rémy (now renamed "Jean-Peyre") was not able to satisfy the requirements necessary to rise up the steps within the Order with the other novitiates. At the age of 16, he was place in the service of the local diocese in Aureill[h]ac-Arpaillargues where he became a junior priest-in-training. 

     He was not in service long before the region got swept up in the fervor of another Crusade. Only this time, instead of raising armies of soldiers to travel to the Holy Land and fight the Moslem "enemies of the One True Faith" the idea was to send "armies" of children and the poor to try to convert the Muslim people through their kindness and meekness. Jean-Peyre's superiors in the Church got quite caught up in the spirit of this new Crusade. They enlisted themselves to not only recruit "soldiers of Christ" to be brought to Marseilles for shipping to the Holy Land, but to accompany the precious cargo at least to Byzantium (today's Istanbul). Jean-Peyre was such a follower--had developed so little of his own ideas and opinions on any thing--that he had no feelings one way or the other on the events that unfolded with him in the middle. Of course, he had absolutely no inkling as to the nefarious deeds that were to about to unfold to which he would be an unwitting participant and, in fact, accomplice. Instead, he was quite content--and genuinely happy and satisfied--with his assigned role of helping the individual children arriving at his church and, later, while en route to Marseilles, to find bedding, food, and some solace and care for these weak and weary "warriors." Never questioning what these children and their caregivers had been told--or what the parents of the children--some not much younger than his 18 years--had been promised or given in return for their voluntary "donation," Jean-Peyre merely did what he was told, went where he was told, and found himself totally ignorant of the bigger picture and possible political and economic games being played behind the scenes.

     The scene at the docks in Marseilles harbor was quite eye-opening for Jean-Peyre as he, himself, had never seen the Sea much less been on a cargo ship before. He was as nervous and preoccupied with the uncertainties and insecurities he felt for going out on the wavy expanse of water in a tub with sails. Still, though he knew they were in for a long journey, he had been told that they would be making several stops for provisions and other transactions along the way. The first leg was to be to Tripoli.
     The trip was miserable from the start with three days of mind-numbing sea-sickness preventing Jean-Peyre from being able to do the things he was supposedly there to do (care for the children), much less being able to take care of himself. During the night of the third day at sea, the ship was tossed and battered about by a severe storm before it finally capsized and broke apart near the rocky shores of one of Italy's islands. For Jean-Peyre it was a fairly swift death as he did not know how to swim. The vision of the receding surface of the Sea as his drowning body sank into the depths were his last impressions of that lifetime.
     In the Spirit World, Journeyman Paul was able to ascertain that no one survived the sinking of the ship that Jean-Peyre was on and that most of the children and impoverished "soldiers of Christ" on the other ships that did survive the sea voyages ended up being sold into slavery in either Tripoli or Byzantium. Noe ever made it to the Holy Land.

     Because of this news, Paul found himself feeling overwhelmingly complicit--which gave him the motivation to try to choose successive incarnations that were less ignorant, less meek, more engaged and that continued to form thoughtful opinions over a lifetime. This was also a lesson for Paul which left a somewhat sour taste for the Roman Catholic Church in his mind--which probably contributed to his choosing a few Muslim lives, a few Asiatic, and this current non-religious lifetime in me, Drew Fisher.