The Many Daughters of Afong Moy

by Jamie Ford

Because this thing we might call a past life insinuates that we had a primary one to begin with. It implies the existence of a soul that transmigrates from body to body. That alone can be motivating, almost intoxicating, but that idea is also a myth. The Buddhist view of the nonself rejects the existence of an essential soul. It’s my belief that we are just an ever-changing collection of memories that, when added up, create the illusion of self.