Wonderings on a winter evening

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like, what I would be like if I had born into a different family, in a different country, in a different culture. Surely I might look different, but would my personality change? Would I change? Of course, a simple narrow-minded person would say that I indeed would be different from what I am now. That I’d be significantly different. Would I be?
I’ve been raised in a Christian family. Protestants. My parents believe in God and they didn’t leave out the part of teaching me how to respect the Lord and why, even though they’ve never been the church-going type of people. Except the few times in the year when our entire family goes. Do I believe in God? Maybe.
I am, in my opinion, a reasonable person with realistic views on life. When I was younger, I used to believe that there was , in fact, a man with a long beard sitting in the clouds above us, watching over us and making us move. How realistic does a bearded man sitting on a cloud above you sound? Not at all realistic,right? And I agree. Though as a little kid, I didn’t have a clue why we went to church on Christmas Eve or who the big (and back then, creepy for me) man was, wearing a black robe, always wishing us a ’Blessed Christmas’ or those two ladies, who always gave me candy or some other sweet thing to munch on. I grew, became older and realised I shouldn’t be afraid of those people. The man is the minister at our ’home’ church and those women are my relatives, quite strangely. Seems funny and stupid of me to have been afraid of those kind people back then. He still wishes us, and clearly everyone else, a ’Blessed Christmas’ and those ladies still have something sweet tucked away in their pockets for us, but it’s not the same anymore. I used to go to church because I believed in that man on a cloud and that he would make his people happy. Now, I go out of tradition. But I wouldn’t say I don’t believe in God anymore. I just don’t believe that there’s a man sitting on the clouds. Because that would be impossible according to physics and chemistry and all that nature stuff. That makes me wonder, though. What do I believe in?
I guess I believe in something out-of-this-world. Something that ignores all the laws of nature, something of serious, intimidating higher power. Not a living being.No. Some higher source of energy that controls all kinds of elements in life. Yes. It’s something incredibly hard to describe to another person, because it’s not something you see or hear. I sense it. I feel it. It’s not around all the time but it comes by when I need it the most. Makes me feel warm inside. Warm, cared for and loved. It makes me feel safe and it makes me believe in things like magick and angels. I can’t put my finger on what it exactly is, but I call it the Spirit. I believe each person has their own Spirit, who/which protects them and guides them through all the ups and downs in life. I might seem crazy to some people, but that's just what I believe in. I guess we all need something to believe in. Otherwise we’d be sad, lonely and down-right miserable. For me, it’s a Spirit. I don’t know what they look like. They don’t have a shape or a form. It’s a feeling. And it learns from you. It eventually becomes you, knowing your every move and might even prevent some things from happening to ensure your safety. And when we die, it passes our persona on. It gives it a new body and a new life, though this time a different one, giving us a chance to make other choices, experience an entirely different lifestyle, though we don’t even know it. I wonder who I was in my ’past life’ and who I’ll be in the ’following’ one.
If we still rely on my theory of Spirits, then my personality won’t change. I’ll still be the same-spirited person for ever. My looks, my body will change. And my family and my environment will change. Because of that, I will make different choices in ’each lifetime’ and become someone ’different’ each time doing so. But I think some of the things we learn in our lives stick with us in the next. For example, I’m almost certain that I was British in one of my previous lives. Right now, after learning English for quite some time, I’ve grappled a British accent to my speech. It came to me from ’out of the blue’ one day and I’ve had it ever since. And because I’m not British, quite far from it actually, it’s technically a so-called 'fake accent'. But deep down, I know it’s real.It feels real. My friends would mock me because of it. My spirit then overwhelmed me, making me feel confident about it and safe. I wiped away my tears, knowing that I wasn’t a fake. My friends have got used to it by now and don’t mock my accent anymore. It sort of ’my thing’. Something by which you can tell me apart from other people. My distinctive feature that comes with the persona my Spirit has kept safe so far. Actually, all of my personality-features come from it. Don’t they?
And yet I proposed my questions based on one word – ’if’. There’s always the problem of ’ if’. We don’t really think about it but it’s there. So my question was about me being a different person, a different character. And that involves a lot of good old-fashioned ’if’ phrases (if I had born into a different family ; if I had a different personality). ’If’ opposes the possibility of things being different from what they are in the present time and for the difference to exist, the change,the ’if’ would have had to take place in the past. But we can’t change the past. What’s done is done. We can change the future. WHAT IF we’d find a way to build a functional water-powered car? WOULD that help in any way? There are a lot of 'if’-s and 'what if’-s and 'would’-s we don’t have an answer for because it’s all based upon our choices.
But honestly, my true question, the reason why I started writing my thoughts down, was why I turn to writing when I am feeling lonely or when I don’t have anything serious on my mind. I guess writing, for me, is like a friend. Just like a friend, it’s something I can rely on and get support from. It’s an entire support-system that has developed over time. I write.Poetry, stories, articles, reports, essays – anything!
Tonight I sat down to write because I had been reading for the entire day and my dear grandfather told me to do something else for a while so I wouldn’t get tired. The minutes are closing in on midnight and I’ve been writing from 9PM. I had nothing better to do, so I started off with a poem, inspired by the novel I’m reading. (A wonderful piece of work called ’Fallen’ by Lauren Kate. Truly binding and exciting and sets a new view on dark romance novels.) But now, as I am still writing, I feel the sleep coming to me in a blissful haze. I’m watching a movie on Channel 2. About some farmer and his nephews trying to save his farm from an evil politician/businessman. Quite intriguing. And my fingers are tired. I have to write some words several times just to spell them right. So I have a feeling I’m going to end my jibberish with this bomb-shell. Good night and thank you for tuning in! (If I didn’t sound crazy before, I must be now...)