A few weeks ago I celebrated my 57th birthday.
As I laid in bed the night before, I had a sudden realization.
Exactly 57 years prior, I was in the ether getting ready to be born.
I was attached to my vessel residing in my mother’s womb of course, but my soul was not technically born yet.
It occurred to me to wonder what a soul does the day before it takes its next incarnation. So I tuned in to my higher self and we had a chat about it.
As soon as I asked the question, I found myself observing what felt less like a formal process and more like the final day before leaving home for a very long journey.
The first thing I noticed was that my attention wasn’t on Earth at all. It was on the souls I was about to leave behind.
I watched as souls spent time with members of their soul family who weren’t incarnating this time around. There was warmth, affection, and what I can only describe as joyful anticipation.
Nobody acted as though this was a permanent goodbye. It felt more like family members seeing someone off at the airport before a months-long trip.
I remember asking, “Are they sad?”
My higher self smiled and said, “No. Souls know they’ll see each other again.”
That answer made perfect sense where I was. Time didn’t seem linear there. An entire human lifetime felt incredibly brief compared to the eternal nature of the soul.
The next thing I was shown was a gathering with my spirit guides who had agreed to participate in the incarnation.
I’ve always thought of spirit guides as mentors, but what I witnessed felt much more collaborative than that. Everyone already knew the broad purpose of the lifetime, yet there was a final check-in before departure.
Almost like saying, “Is everyone still comfortable with the plan?”
There wasn’t discussion about every little event that would happen. I didn’t see anyone reviewing a detailed script because life on Earth isn’t scripted that way. Free will changes things constantly.
Instead, they reviewed the intentions.
What qualities did my soul hope to develop?
What experiences would create the greatest opportunities for compassion, wisdom, forgiveness, courage, or joy?
How strongly did I want my guides to nudge me when they saw me straying from my life intention?
There was an unmistakable feeling that everyone was volunteering for their role out of love.
Then something happened that I wasn’t expecting. I watched my soul reach out to the higher selves of people who were already living on Earth.
Parents. Future friends. Future potential partners. Even people who would bring tremendous challenges.
This fascinated me because none of the human personalities knew these meetings were taking place. They were busy living their lives completely unaware that their higher selves were quietly reaffirming agreements.
The conversations weren’t long. More like an acknowledgment.
“We’re still meeting?”
“Yes.”
“We’re still helping each other?”
“Absolutely.”
“There may be moments when our human selves don’t understand each other.”
“We know.”
I found myself deeply moved by this.
It reminded me that even our most difficult relationships exist within a much larger framework than we can see while we’re living them.
The last thing I was shown carried the greatest emotional weight.
My soul knew it was about to forget. Forget my true identity. Forget where I came from. Forget my guides. Forget my soul family. Forget the reasons I had chosen this lifetime.
I asked my higher self, “Why do souls agree to that?”
The answer came immediately.
“Because remembering would change the experience.”
If you knew beyond all doubt that you were eternal, grief would feel different.
If you remembered your life plan, many choices would become obvious instead of meaningful. If you could constantly see your guides and loved ones in spirit, fear would lose much of its power.
The veil isn’t there to punish us. It’s there to create an authentic human experience.
As I sat with that realization, I felt enormous respect for every soul that chooses to come here. Incarnation suddenly looked incredibly brave.
You’re agreeing to enter a world where you’ll temporarily forget everything you know to be true.
You’ll wonder if you’re alone.
You’ll question whether you’re loved.
You’ll doubt yourself.
You’ll search for meaning.
And somehow, through all of that, your soul trusts that you’ll eventually find your way back to remembering.
Not remembering every detail. But remembering who you are.
As my conversation with my higher self came to an end, one final thought stayed with me.
None of us arrived here accidentally.
We came after saying goodbye to loved ones. We came after meeting with our guides. We came after reaffirming soul agreements with the people whose lives would intertwine with ours.
We came knowing we’d forget all of it.
And perhaps that’s why those moments of intuition, déjà vu, unexplainable familiarity, or overwhelming love feel so powerful.
Maybe they’re tiny cracks in the veil.
Little reminders from our soul saying, “You haven’t really forgotten. You’re remembering exactly when you’re supposed to.”
I found that thought deeply comforting.
Maybe birthdays aren’t just celebrations of getting older.
Maybe they’re anniversaries of one of the bravest decisions our soul has ever made.
