On religion and baseball

I believe in a higher power, that life, that existence, had to start from somewhere.  That's just plain logical to me.  I also believe that death is not the end, though admittedly, it is a "belief" because it's something I need to believe in.  But in all the explanations I've heard about why things happen, how things began, why we need to behave a certain way, I've never heard anything that sounds right on.  Everything -- including (and perhaps especially), the Catholic religion in which I was raised and in which, essentially, we're raising our children because the Husband identifies himself as Catholic -- sounds wacky to me.  But who am I to say that millions of people are wrong?  All I can say is that I don't know. 

Still, I'm fascinated by people who are steadfast in their assertion that their "religion" is the one true correct one.  The answer I've received as to what makes it so they "know" and I don't?  "Faith."  They believe because they believe.  Yes, it's circular, but there are books and signs and miracles and everyday occurrences and once-in-a-lifetime occurrences that reinforce their beliefs.   And so they go on believing.  To be honest, at one time, I was all judgey about this "faith"; but now?  I'm envious.  But I am who I am, and I'm not going to know for sure until I know for sure, and I guess I'm okay with that.
 
Many, many years ago, a friend introduced me to the idea of reincarnation through the book, "Many Lives, Many Masters" by Dr. Brian Weiss.  The basic gist is that the purpose of your life is to learn a lesson.  When your life is over, you review your life with higher beings, you take from it, you learn from it, and ultimately, you are reborn for another life lesson.  Past-life experiences follow you so that each time you are born, you are born more highly evolved.  This explains child prodigies, strange accounts of young children speaking languages other than their native tongue, how many people are drawn to certain hobbies or are "gifted" in certain areas, and how sometimes "old soul" is just the best way to describe someone.  It also explains why you've met someone and you've felt a spark of recognition or that you've known them forever -- the theory goes that these are souls that you've known before.  I love that thought.  And it sounds no more wacky to me than anything else I've heard.  It's equally plausible and implausible.

Let me get to the point of this post:  Zachary and his baseball.  We are not a baseball family -- we're a football family.  We don't watch baseball, we don't talk about it, and other than t-ball, we don't play it, and as far as I know, he doesn't come into contact with anyone who plays it or talks about it.  But lately, Zachary has been having batting practice with Parta.  He doesn't need the T for t-ball, and he hits pitches with surprising accuracy.  Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying his skill is prodigy material, but it's still surprising to see that little guy find his target about 80% of the time (more often if he's not worried about whether I'm watching him).  And he's even better at throwing.  And he's not yet three. 

A couple days ago, out of nowhere, he told the Husband:  "When I was little, I used to play baseball for New York."  He told Parti this again this morning.  And so I asked him what position he played.  Without skipping a beat, he said, "Outfield." 

Now, I suppose he could've heard the terms "outfield" and "pop-fly" (I heard him use that before), and he's certainly heard of the state of New York.  And maybe his skill just reflects an above-average hand-eye coordination. 

But maybe, just maybe, my boy was a New York Yankee in a past life.  If so, I'd like to think it was a good life with talent and wealth and fulfillment, and that he learned a lesson that has made him the sweet, funny, beautiful soul that he is today.  I don't know.  But it's certainly something to believe in.