Shared NDE

This video illustrates a rare and wondrous occurrence: a shared NDE.

Come along now and listen to Scott Taylor describe his shared experience of death when his nephew dies.

It is just another example of how mystical and magical life is; and how life-altering it is to discover that death is just another step along life’s path.


“A compilation of book reports with anecdotes”

CarolBowmanBookChildren’s Past Lives by Carol Bowman

Summary: Has your child lived before?

In this book, Carol Bowman reveals overwhelming evidence of past life memories in children. Not only are such experiences real, they are far more common than most people realize.

Bowman’s extraordinary investigation was sparked when her young son, Chase, described his own past-life death on a Civil War battlefield; an account so accurate it was authenticated by an expert historian. Even more astonishing, Chase’s chronic eczema and phobia of loud noises completely disappeared after he had the memory.

Inspired by her son’s dramatic healing, Bowman compiled dozens of cases and wrote this comprehensive study to explain how very young children remember their past lives, spontaneously and naturally. In this book, Ms. Bowman tells how to distinguish between a true past life memory and a fantasy, offers practical advice to parents on how to respond to a child recalling a past life memory, and shows how to foster the spiritual and healing benefits of these experiences.

Recommendation: Mixed feelings (In Amazon’s world, maybe 1.5 to 2 stars)

Review:  If you enjoy reading anecdotes of people recalling past lives, then you’ll find the book mildly interesting. If, however, you want a book that truly provides evidence and science-based research into past lives, then this book is not for you.

The first half of the book is little more than a compilation of book reports, which in its own way was helpful to me, only because I didn’t have to go far to find a list of better resources for what I wanted (science-based information on reincarnation). The author condensed each of her reference books into a synopsis and summary of the main topics, and then wrote that up as separate chapters for her own book. She then borrowed one or two anecdotes from the reference book and incorporated that into said chapter. This made it quite helpful for me to determine which of those reference books I wanted to use to gain more insight into this topic.

(I do understand that she was doing this to show her readers that she had done her homework, and wasn’t just a silly housewife writing a book. However, this material should have been included simply as a bibliography, not as chapters in her book. Although, without these as chapters, she wouldn’t have had a book, since they did make up a little more than half her total page count.)

The second half of her book was divided into two sections. The first, contained snippets from her own life and family struggles in figuring out how to write the book while attending conferences and symposiums that would help her gain notoriety and aid her to launch her career as a regression therapist. The second, contained the instructions for parents on how to handle their children who may be remembering past lives.

The whole theme running through her narrative is that this book will help parents deal with their children’s sudden past life memory eruptions. Yet, that information garnered only twenty or so pages at the very end of the book.

So, if you’re looking for other materials to read with more science and more depth, then read the first half of the book for her book reports. If you’re looking for an anecdotal biography of Carol Bowman, then try the first part of the second half of the book. And, if what you really need is some help recognizing when your child is spouting information about a past life he or she may have lived, then try the last few pages. The author does present some fairly sound common-sense ways to tell whether your child is making up stories or actually remembering something from a previous life. However, on the whole, I would give this book a pass and find one that is more comprehensive and useful.

Choose Fear or Love

As Jim Carrey points out, we have to live our lives making fear-filled choices or love-filled choices. Love-filled choices bring more happiness and contentment.


To see how to make love-filled choices, read my book, “More from the Masters.

In More from the Masters the ascended masters explain how life is an intricate pattern of relationships, which we weave into and out of our lives with every choice we make. They also speak about how our choices are based in love or fear (love’s opposite), and how we can help ourselves overcome the fear to make more love-based choices. The book is filled with wisdom regarding the different types and levels of relationships that we create during our lifetimes, and how each of these relationships affect the experiences we have. It is a compilation of discussions and explanations that (hopefully) will help you gain a new perspective to and understanding for the complexities of human relationships and how to cope with them.

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Death and Dying

butterflyDeath, like a butterfly, comes on wings of beauty. It is a ray of light that carries you to glory. But dying…dying is a vulture that devours the body. It swoops in like a raptor, ripping you from your life. — Tricia A. Sullivan

That’s a poetic way of saying that death is not ugly or harsh. Death is quiet and full of beauty. It is the dying that can be harsh.

Dying is different than death. Dying is the affliction that causes the physical body to shut down and die. Death is the transitioning of the soul from physical life to afterlife.

You might be dying of cancer, which is painful; yet, your death, when it occurs, can be filled with joy or loneliness—whichever you choose. You can die from any number of afflictions—illness, trauma, poison, murder, accident, old age, or even nature’s tantrums. But your death can be calm, tumultuous, lonely, joyous, frightening, sad, filled with regret or hope, or any way you choose. Both death and dying are chosen by you (at least, most of the time). There are some exceptions, and an imbalance of energies (aka, karma) is usually involved; but, overall, we each choose the manner in which we die and the way in which we experience death.

It seems like such a fine distinction—between dying and death—but it is a distinction that can affect the entire experience. For instance, perhaps you wanted to experience being murdered (yeah, I know, who would choose that? Believe it or not, most of us do choose it in at least one life). So, the cause of death (the dying) is supposed to be a quick gunshot to the head; while, the death itself (the transition from life to afterlife) is supposed to be filled with joy for having taken the bullet to save someone else. However, the person who agrees to be your murderer makes the killing more painful than it needs to be; perhaps, wounding you several times before killing you. So, now your death also has fear, pain, and maybe even regret for having acted bravely instead of the joy you originally planned.

The way you die can color the whole death experience, changing it, twisting it, or (sometimes) making it even better than you planned. For instance, you may have opted to take an overdose of pills because you believed that no one cared about you. Therefore, you planned on a death filled with the same type of loneliness and depression that you had faced in life. However, the person who finds you, holds you and cries for you as you’re dying, and you realize that someone cared. This may make your death (your transition to the afterlife) more joyful and less traumatic because now you know that someone really cared about you.

Dying and death are usually planned as a unit, which enables each person to create a full experience for themself. However, plans can change, needs can vary, and other people’s choices can interfere. That means you may need to re-evaluate your original plan and try something else. And, while death escorts can step in and help, most souls prefer to just accept the experience as is (changes and all). After all, that’s what life (which includes dying and death) is all about…experiences, with all the unpredictability and fickleness that goes with them.

So, the next time you speak of dying and death, remember that they are two distinct steps in the overall experience we call life.


A Pleasant Place to Visit

farleighfieldIn Farleigh Field by Rhys Bowen

Summary:   Farleigh Place, the ancestral home of Lord Westerham and his five daughters, now also houses a division of British soldiers, changing the way they have to live. When a soldier with a failed parachute falls to his death on the estate, questions are raised and suspicions are aroused. The soldier’s uniform and possessions aren’t what they should be and MI5 operative and family friend, Ben Cresswell, is covertly tasked with determining if the soldier was a German spy. The assignment also offers Ben the chance to be near Lord Westerham’s middle daughter, Pamela, whom he furtively loves. But Pamela has her own secret: she has taken a job at Bletchley Park, the British code-breaking facility.

As Ben follows a trail of spies and traitors, which may include another member of Pamela’s family, he discovers that someone near to him has an appalling, history-altering agenda. Can he and Pamela stop them before England falls?

Recommendation: Yes

Review: For me, this was an interesting glimpse into World War II from the British perspective. While it’s focus was primarily on the upper-crust, it also included a number of everyday citizens, since the setting was mainly the estate of Farleigh Field and the nearby village and neighboring estates.

The writing evoked Britain in each word and action; yet, as an American, I had no difficulty understanding and empathizing with the characters and their plight. It was an engaging story with well-developed characters. The author has an easy voice to listen to and a warm, welcoming writing style.

Although, the story read more like a mystery novel rather than an action/adventure spy novel, I was fine with that. It was moderately paced, with enough clues and romance sprinkled throughout to keep me intrigued and satisfied.

There were no major twists or surprises, but there were some interesting insights into history that I had never considered or known before. For example, when reading about the intense darkness that several of his characters encountered when trying to walk to their home at night, I wondered why they just didn’t use a flashlight. The author, evidently anticipating such questions, explained that using any type of light was banned, because it could be used by German bombers as a target. However, some of the characters did use flashlights with black filters or clothes over the lenses. It was these types of details that truly brought life to the story.

The only downside to this book was that I wanted a second one. Several of the secondary characters had story lines that could (to my mind) be broken out and turned into books, and I would welcome the chance to read them.

So, if you’re looking for a pleasant, well-written, historical mystery to read, this is a good choice.


My Haunted Childhood


My childhood home was haunted…or at least we all thought so.

When I was about twelve or so, my family and I became convinced that our house was haunted. We had been living there for at least seven years with no ghostly manifestations, but right around my twelfth birthday everything began to change. Books jumped off shelves when no one was near them. Doors slammed even though there was no wind. Papers blew off desks and tables although the windows were all closed, and footsteps were heard climbing the stairs to the second floor, but when we looked, no one was on the steps. Radios and TVs became filled with static and snow, and electric or battery-powered clocks and watches either slowed or stopped (and sometimes, even went backwards).

It was my father who began noticing that these events most often occurred when I was around—especially the interference with the radios and TVs and the problems with time and clocks. But it was my mom who put it together. Maturing child + playful ghost = poltergeist. What else could it be? Since she was the one who had read all the books, we took her word for it; after all, she was the only “expert” we had. Therefore, what we had was a poltergeist, not a garden-variety ghost or goblin.

So, every few nights this poltergeist would thump its way up the stairs, stopping when it got to the second floor hallway. While every day my mother put up with being unable to listen to the radio in the mornings, and I would pick up the books and papers that ended up strewn about the various rooms. After a while it became so common place and routine that we no longer gave much thought to it when objects were moved or misplaced, when we heard strange noises, or when electrical appliances didn’t always function properly. It was just the way things were in our house. That is until the day the new neighbors came to visit.

My mother was a stickler for presenting the proper face to the world, and that included inviting new neighbors over for a friendly “get-to-know-you” chat. So, here it was a beautiful Sunday spring afternoon, and instead of playing outside or sitting in my reading tree with a book (one of my favorite pastimes) I was stuck inside trying to be nice to the new neighbor’s boring son. Listening to the stilted conversation of the adults, I could tell that even my father found these new neighbors stiff and pretentious. I watched him as his eyes glazed over as the pompous man droned on and on about his important job, and his expensive car, and his notable connections. My father was never impressed by that type of thing. Although my mother was (impressed by just those types of things), I could see that even she was having a tough time warming up to these people.

Suddenly, the piano, which was also in the front room, jangled discordantly. As startled gazes sped to the simple upright piano that held down the front corner of the room, tea cups rattled as guests hurriedly placed their services on the nearest table. My dad gave the guests a quiet, crooked smile, while my mother nervously made suggestions about the wind possibly causing the noise or the cat (we didn’t have) possibly walking across the keyboard. Although the neighbors nodded, they seemed unconvinced, and suddenly had another engagement that they needed to get to.

As the guests hurried to leave, I studied the piano and for the first time an inkling of understanding began to seep in. The poltergeist had never touched the piano before, but about the time that it had jangled to life, I had been wishing that the people would leave so I could at least practice my music. Wondering if what I was suspecting was true, I scrunched up my face and stared at the piano until my eyes watered. The closing of the front door, as the guests scurried away, broke my concentration. I turned away to see my dad put an arm around my mom and reassure her that it was okay, and that our reputation in the neighborhood would be fine.

I glanced again at the piano, wondering if mom would mind if I did my practicing and that’s when the piano plunked out half a chord. My mom jumped a little, then sighed. As she began picking up the cups and dishes, she suggested that maybe if I practiced a little that the poltergeist might quiet down again.

Needing no further encouragement, I scooted over to the bench and slid in front of the keyboard. As I started running scales, I let my mind wander. Understanding as to what a poltergeist really was began to come together for me like some weird jigsaw puzzle. A poltergeist wasn’t some phantasm, like a ghost or ghoul, that was linked to me and so using my energy to haunt the house. A poltergeist was the result of my unfocused emotional energy. I had “powers” (that’s how I thought of it…as if I was some sort of super hero), and I wasn’t controlling them.

Although, it seemed that these occurrences were random or happening due to some outside influences, they were really just responding to my own emotional needs and “outbursts”. Unable to express myself in any other way (such as when those neighbors were visiting), my emotions expressed themselves through my abilities. Even the thumping on the steps was my own emotionalism letting go. I’ve always had very vivid dreams and during that period of my life, parts of the dreams actually “came to life”, that’s all.

Now that I’ve grown up (although, sometimes I feel more childlike than ever), I look back and see how easily those odd events during those few years could be misunderstood. But as much fun as it was to think that our house was haunted, the only ghost was me.


“War and Peace” is a Better Choice

GirlWithNoNameThe Girl with No Name by Diney Costeloe

Summary:   Thirteen-year-old Lisa has escaped from Nazi Germany on the Kindertransport. She arrives in London unable to speak a word of English, her few belongings crammed into a small suitcase. Among them is one precious photograph of the family she has left behind.

Lonely and homesick, Lisa is adopted by a childless couple. But when the Blitz blows her new home apart, she wakes up in hospital with no memory of who she is or where she came from. The authorities give her a new name and dispatch her to a children’s home.

With the war raging around her, what will become of Lisa now?

Recommendation: No

Review: I love history and I adore reading good, well-written stories about history; however, this book was neither good, nor well-written. While at the online bookstore, I read the prologue and was fooled into thinking the whole book would be as well done. It wasn’t. Not only were the characters one-dimensional and poorly developed, the author couldn’t even maintain a character’s point of view for longer than a minute. It changed at random moments; sometimes mid-paragraph, and, several times, even mid-sentence.

While the premise was promising, the writing failed to fulfill that promise. I tried to push myself to keep reading, but it was difficult when there was no connection to the characters, and, thereby, no connection to the story.

I finally gave up at page 50. That the author actually wrote another 430 pages astounds me. But what astounds me more, is that people actually persevered and read the entire thing. I say, save your time and effort for something much more pleasurable…”War and Peace” would be an easier read.