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Originally posted by Levita
I did a lot of reading on NDEs, and in my research, there was more to be found. I looked into the knowledge of cardiologists, experts on the subject, (heart attack is the most common cause of an NDE) and in some of my reading there was this thing called genetic memory (that was in there because cardiologists do the heart transplanting)~ and the transplant recipients would recieve memories from their donors.
Well, what if it could be the same thing? I encountered an interresting opinion in some of my reading, that the soul and things that makes each person tick, it is held in the DNA, and when a part of the body is "exported", the DNA of course is also, and so too is the ability. Seeing as all people are made from the DNA of their parents, if the concept is right, i would imagine it would work the same way.
Originally posted by Doc Velocity
My father died fairly young. It was only after he was gone that my mom started commenting on how much I was like my dad, which was pretty odd to me, because I had never thought of myself as a chip off of his block.
I mean, my dad was a steelworker for 30 years, a no-nonsense he-man who worked at a blast furnace, getting peppered with molten metal every working day of his life. He was built like the Hulk on steroids, with massive physical strength.
I, on the other hand, was more of an egghead, with my face buried in science and history texts, more accomplished in the arts than in feats of physical strength and endurance. As a kid, I had planned to become a herpetologist (one who studies reptiles). So, I was about as far from being like my father as I could imagine.
Years after he died, I landed a job in marketing and commercial art, where I discovered that I had this really peculiar ability — the ability to accurately measure anything on sight to within about 1/16" tolerance. I was (and still am) like a walking tape measure. This was an especially useful (if bizarre) talent in my line of work, and it took me a long way.
One day while visiting my mom, as we were idly discussing my work, I mentioned my "weird ability" and — to my great astonishment — she just smiled and nodded, "Yes, just like your father." I was dumbstruck. Seems that my dad used his ability in the steel mill, precisely measuring lengths of I-beam and pipe by simply glancing at them. I had no idea.
Following this revelation, I asked my mom about any of my dad's other traits that I might have inherited. Well, she explained that he had an incredibly high pain threshold — and I, too, have a seemingly inhuman tolerance for pain. It's not that I can't feel pain, it's just that it takes a hell of a lot of pain to get my attention. For instance, I can pick up 350° stoneware right out of the oven, barehanded, and set it on the stove top. Other people are wincing and shrieking as they watch me do it. It's uncomfortable, yes, but tolerable. And there have been numerous instances of contusion and laceration that went untreated simply because it didn't hurt me that much.
She also told me about certain gestures my dad used to make, gestures that I now use without ever realizing they were my dad's. For example, instead of saying "I told you so," I'll just slowly turn my head to the right without saying a word. My dad also used to do that, according to my mom. And then there's this thing I do when I'm very determined or just pissed off, clenching and cracking my fists...Loudly. Like Bruce Lee, right? Yes, my dad did the exact same thing, but none of my other brothers can do it.
But, more than mere physical and mental traits, there are instances where it seems I'm reliving parts of my dad's life. And not by choice. For example, I was rock climbing a granite face with a buddy one day when he pulled an unexpected dynamic retreat on me — that is, he fell. I grabbed a handful of his webbing as he plummeted past me and actually caught him one-handed, which jerked my shoulder out of socket but saved his life.
When I told my mom about this adventure, she said the same thing had happened to my dad at work. His buddy fell from a catwalk above and my dad grabbed him one-handed on the way down, saving the man's life.
As I've grown older (next year I'll be as old as he was when he died), I've started to see more and more of my dad in me, and I find myself facing many of the same challenges that he faced, and I'm dealing with them the same way he would. It makes me wonder sometimes, you know... They say that you live on in your children, but I'm starting to doubt that it's just a romantic metaphor. It's more like I'm my dad's clone, as though he's not done with this
Originally posted by LovingSoul
reply to post by Levita
That's very scary as it impacts quite dramatically on one's view on abortion and, please, I really don't mean to start a debate on the subject. The story by Doc Velocity is fantastic. I would love to hear more of this sort of tale.