I don't know about past and future lives, but there is one running right now. And it is this one that we can concern ourselves with. In fact it is, most of the times, too full of things to fill in one life, but we do stuff chunks of it here and there, wanting to be smart - the best we can.
But most pieces sometimes appear to be a derivation from randomness, one that absolutely makes no sense. And except swirling in the by-lanes of the mind, they do have no concrete possibility of humanly control or convergence towards a logical strategy that could be understood joining the pieces back into a larger picture as they say.
Instead, it tests you as it stretches you, and every time you flex a muscle suddenly it bends you over exactly right there. It is a pile of stories in the back-end of an insanely unconscious mind, pieces that have no contextual relevance to events which are real and tangible. None of the interpretation is real but such contradiction is life that they and not the reality define the reality.
