As a story-teller, I have always recognized the power of the Christian story of the resurrection of Christ. It swept the emerging civilized world like no other story had ever done and altered the world’s cultural and religious history. The story gave hope and promise to an impoverished, brutal and primitive world. I am not a Christian, nor am I conventionally religious but I have always felt the power of this story and it has always touched and inspired my life. I have also experienced this very powerful passage of death and rebirth. A part of me died some years ago, and I was reborn, in my mind, resurrected.

I repeat my vows of rebirth often. At some part of many days, some part of every week I feel discouraged, defeated, worn by the complexities and challenges of life. I remind myself of the power of rebirth, of Garbriel Garcia  Marquez’s notion that we are not only reborn once, when our mothers give birth to us, but again and again as life demands. When I feel defeated, when I am worn down, when I am discouraged or feeling alone or frightened, I tell myself this is not the way life needs to be, this is not my life, this is not my story. I will be reborn, resurrected, again and again, for as long as I am privileged to have life.