In January, I made the decision to take my son to Disneyland in Paris. It was our first time together, and everything coincided with our birthday celebrations. So, we opened ourselves up to any kind of experience we could have in this magical location. He had no idea what to expect and , while I was nervous about our first trip abroad as a pair. Amidst all the beauty I saw at Disneyland, one thing stood out: “It’s a small world.” You boarded boats and floated on water within a vast inner that from the outside appeared like a castle. The countries were represented by dolls and various decorations. It was a journey spanning all continents. In the final area, these dolls, dressed in their national attire, sang and danced in a wonderful, fairy-tale-like setting that was pure and delicate. The parents and children were amazed by what they saw, both on our boat and on others. Everyone remained silent and felt a bond forming between us. We felt like we belonged to the same group, despite coming from different nations with different beliefs and statuses. We were more than just a crowd; we were a community. We were Disneyland visitors who were captivated by the allure of stories, bringing us closer together. And this portrayal of our world and its diversity made us more beautiful and less threatening to others. We were enchanted by pure magic. After leaving that place, I took a closer look at Disneyland Park and found a similar ambiance throughout.
Then I pondered: What if we could remember all of our past lives? What if we found ourselves on both sides of the barrier, with different skin colors, opinions, and prejudices, and we had only seen one facet of the world’s complexity and understood only half of it? What if we could remember? Would it provide better understanding of the person next to us, more empathy, and a desire to embrace diversity rather than reject it? Would this revelation improve us? After all, we all live on a very small globe. And if the beauty of stories, in this case, our story from past lives, didn’t fascinate us so much that we forget the hatred?