We’ve All Lived Before

pexels-photo-346796.jpegI did a review on a book regarding children and past lives, and while the book wasn’t all that great, the topic is still one that interests me.

One of the reasons it interests me is because of my own remembrances of past lives (some from when I was young and other memories that have occurred at different moments throughout my life). Another reason why the subject interests me, though, is because of several occurrences I’ve had of coping with the spontaneous recall of other’s memories.

The first time I had to help someone else cope with such a spontaneous memory was when I was in my late teens/early 20’s. I was babysitting my nieces and nephews (ages 9 to 4). This was a typical request and I wasn’t expecting anything unusual.

The kids (3 boys and 2 girls) were outside playing in the backyard, the dog was lying in the shade of the big ol’ oak tree, and I was just trying to make sure that they didn’t kill themselves or each other with their antics. Two of the boys were trying to climb the tree, while the two girls were having a tea party with their dolls over by the swing set.

52205_soarSuddenly, the third boy, and the youngest, burst into tears. Thinking that one of the other kids had done something, I raced over to see what was wrong (the other kids continued to play, paying us no mind).

Donny (not his real name) was squatting near the tree, tears just streaming down his face. When I got there, he appeared inconsolable. I got down next to him and wrapped my arms around him. As his tears slowed down a bit, I asked him what was wrong.

He choked out the words, “I did it.”

“Did what?”

He pointed at the dead bird at the base of the tree.

I hadn’t seen him hurt anything, but then I was trying to keep track of five energetic and crazy kids. So, without thinking, I asked, “Why did you kill it?”

“Because my dad told me to.”

I stood up, surprised, because I knew his dad would never do such a thing. After a moment, I squatted back down. “Are you sure it was your dad who suggested it?”

“Oh, he didn’t just suggest it; he insisted.” (Insisted was the word he used, speaking at a level above his age of four.)

Still puzzled, I pushed for more information. “Do you know why he insisted you do this?” And I indicated the dead bird.

Continuing to speak in a way that was older than his four years, he responded, “He said I would be considered a pantywaist if I didn’t.”

Okay, I knew something was odd, because who says ‘pantywaist?’ That was definitely not a term his father would use.

“Your dad told you that?”

He blinked, then said, “Not this dad. The dad I had before.”

“You had a dad before this one?”

“Sure. But that was when I was Robert Aikers.” (Again, not actual name.)

That got me. I plopped down on the ground and stared at him.

“My dad at that time thought it was manly to kill things, but I didn’t approve. So, he mocked me until I finally went hunting with him. We came across a partridge nest in the west field.

“I didn’t want to do it, but I finally pulled the trigger, killing the mother partridge.

“I felt so badly afterwards that I snuck out for weeks to take care of the babies. When he found out, he went out to the field and stomped the nest flat. Then, he made me leave the babies to the barn cat.

“I hated him after that.”

To say I was surprised, is a gross understatement. But I pulled myself together and tried to help him through the experience. I explained that he had taken responsibility for his actions back then by trying to help the baby birds, and it wasn’t his fault that his father had killed them. I also told him that hating his father from back then was a waste of energy. His father had had different values at that time, and eventually he would come to understand that killing for the sake of killing was harmful to himself and the environment. Until then, Donny/Robert needed to forgive himself and his father and move on from that life.

I then explained that the dead bird now was not Donny’s fault. That he hadn’t caused the bird to fall from the tree. I then suggested that we dig a grave for it and bury it along with his anger for his past father.

Once we buried the bird, Donny went back to being Donny and he never mentioned Robert Aikers again (at least, not to me).

So, while some people need help to remember and use meditation, hypnosis, or regression therapy; others, sometimes spontaneously remember. While these spontaneous memories can lead to catharsis, they can also (sometimes) trap the person in a mental time warp loop. The person can get caught up in the memories and emotions from the past and find it difficult or impossible to move forward in their current life.

What they need is someone to help talk them through the memory so that they can let go of whatever emotion or fear is holding them back. Even if they can’t work through the memory (especially if the fear is too great), if they can just let it go it can be enough to help them get back to their current life.

So, sometimes the best way to help someone when they have a spontaneous past life that threatens to take over their current life, is to tell them to let it go. Let it go until another life or until they’re between lives.

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Rejecting Rejection

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Rejection is a way of life for an author…or for any artiste, for that matter. It’s one of those things that you either learn to cope with or you spend all your time depressed. My coping mechanism has always been to tell myself, “Well, that’s just your opinion. I happen to think my [book/story/article] is pretty darn good.” And then I move on to the next step in my path—writing something else, submitting the book/story/article somewhere else, or just taking a nap. I always try to ensure that when I do move on, though, that is in a positive way.

However, the first time my esoteric talents (I’m extremely intuitive) got rejected, I wasn’t quite so aware, nor was I quite prepared to deal with it. I took the rejection of my talents as a rejection of myself. And I believe that’s the trap many people also fall into when their writing is rejected.

I’ve always had a touch of intuitiveness, and after my car vs. bike accident this ability became even more pronounced. For instance, I could ‘hear’ thoughts, perceive emotions leftover in a room or house, or get an inkling of what was about to happen. However, since the accident, I’ve become pretty good at reading someone’s entire aura, including their previous lives—their histories, if you will. I can see the correlations between their current life, their health, and their past lives, and I can usually see (and understand) what lessons they want to learn in their life by having those past lives so prominent in their auras.

When I met ‘Phil’, it was just an ordinary day in my rather ordinary life at my rather ordinary job. We were introduced, he told me a bit about himself, and then he and the boss moved on to the next cube to meet the next person. For the next few hours, I didn’t give him another thought.

The team went to lunch to welcome Phil to our group, and everything was still normal. However, as we prepared to leave, I had difficulty with my coat and Phil reached over to help. When his hand brushed my skin, I got a rush of information, including the connection between us. This ability was still new to me, and in my joy at having this talent, I assumed everyone would want to know what I discovered. I was wrong.

Back at the office, I wrote down everything I could remember. And that night, I did a reading to fill in the gaps. Proud of what I had done and thrilled with this new information, I typed it up and presented it to Phil the next day. He looked confused, asked me what it was, and I told him just to read it and that I would answer his questions later.

I waited all day for him to say something, but he didn’t. So, I thought, okay…he’s digesting it. After all, it was a lot to take in. I told myself similar platitudes all week. Finally, Friday I could wait no longer. I asked him what he thought, and he scrunched his face in thought. Then he looked at me and said in his politest manner, “I don’t believe in that kind of stuff.”

I was crushed. I tried to argue with him, I tried to reason with him. I tried to convince him that it was real; but the hardness of his eyes never changed. He didn’t believe in past lives, he didn’t believe in what I had written, and (overall) he thought I was a kook.

He moved on to another part of the company soon after that (I hope it wasn’t because of me), but I learned two lessons that day:

  1. Not everyone is going to like what you do.
  2. Not everyone is going to believe in what you do.

For those who don’t like what you do, well, that’s on them. For those who don’t believe in what you do, it doesn’t matter, because you believe in what you do.

And for both sets of people, never force your products on anyone, but always make them available to anyone who wants to them.

Most of all, remember rejection isn’t about you. It’s about the person doing the rejecting. Psychopomp 3D - DLS - 8pxls - 2

The book that wasn’t there…

Everyone has an Aha moment, that moment when they finally understand something. Mine came in two steps. When I was about 18 my mother gave me a book that she thought I might find interesting. It didn’t look like anything special—just a simple paperback book with a blue cover. The front had drawings of different people’s faces dressed from different time periods and a picture of a Ouija board on it.

Normally a fast reader, this book actually took me about a week to get through. It was filled with new concepts and ideas that somehow also felt familiar. It was a very interesting read, and I knew I would want to read it again. I felt the truth of the information, although I didn’t fully comprehend everything.

I set the book aside, and life went on. Meanwhile, the concepts and ideas percolated at the back of my mind. I never really consciously thought about the book until years later, when I hit an emotional crossroads. At that point, I thought that something in that book just might help me with my choices.

I searched high and low for the book, sure that I had placed it in one of the many bookcases in the house, but couldn’t find it anywhere. Unable to locate it, and not remembering if I or my mother had lent it to someone else, I went to the bookstore and got a new copy.

This time it only took a couple of days to read through it, and I had the biggest Aha moment of my life when I finished. While the first time I had read it had been like going into a dark house with a couple of lit candles that illuminated just a few of the dark rooms, this time it was as if I had found the main fuse box and so lit up the whole house. I not only understood everything the book was saying, but I recognized the truth of the concepts the next time I looked at someone’s aura.

All my life I had seen auras, and I had taught myself what the different layers were and what the colors and shapes meant. However, it always felt as is some of the pieces weren’t there, like there was some information I should be understanding but wasn’t. Now, all the pieces fell together.

As I continued to travel my life’s path, I had many occasions to give away copies of this book. Some of those I shared the book with also had Aha moments, and others didn’t. Some got the same reaction I had the first time I read it—that there’s something very true in this material, but never fully understanding all of the concepts and ideas. No matter how much, if any, of the information people got from the book, I was happy just to share it with others.

Several weeks ago, I had the chance to again share the book with several people. This time as I handed them each a copy of the book, the copyright date caught my attention. Something about it seemed off, but other things took my focus and I let it go. As the week continued, though, the date continued to niggle at my mind, and I finally went in search of my own copy of the book. I checked the copyright date, and then after several calculations I finally realized why it bothered me so. According to the copyright date, my mother gave me the book before it was published.

Convinced there had to be some mistake, I actually contacted the publishers and asked for the first release date. They quoted the same date as in my copy of the book. So, somehow, some way, in some alternate reality, I read that book, the book that awakened my mind and released my soul years before it became available in our world.

Peel back the shroud…

I think it’s about time that we brought death out of the coffin (so to speak). We need to pull back the shroud and take a good hard look at why it bothers us so much that most of us won’t even discuss it. When someone does occasionally bring up the topic, they do so in hushed voices, as if by speaking normally they may actually awaken some grim reaper from its stygian depths that will spirit them away into that frightening world of the unknown, that world into which all who are dead disappear.

What are we really so frightened of, anyway? After all, death is, in dictionary terms, the state of non-being. However, logic, common sense, science, and religion all tell us that there is no such state. They all say that although the physical form ceases to function, another part of us lives on; therefore, you can never not be.

That part of us that continues to exist is referred to by religion as the soul, the core, essence, the spirit, and the chi, and science calls it the psyche, the aura, a vibrational frequency, and a type of energy. Whatever name you give it, something of us remains once the body ceases to be. So, death is really just an altered state of being, a state in which matter ceases to function, but awareness continues.

So, while the physical presence of the person ceases to be, the true person lives on, just in a state of being that most of us refuse to recognize. (Yes, I said refuse. After all, we can choose to see beyond the boundaries of our physical world, but most of us do not because it would “ruin” the “dramas”, the “plays” we call life.) Therefore, while the person we knew and interacted with is no longer available to us, while we can no longer pick up a phone and call or text them, receive emails from them, or see their smiling face, they still exist.

But where do they exist? In what form do they exist? Why can’t we see them, hear them, interact with them?

Every culture, religion, family or tribe, has their own way of answering those questions—and sometimes even more than one answer. The Mayans believed that the underworld had nine layers and their version of heaven had 13 layers.

The Ancient Egyptians conceived of an afterlife as quite similar to normal physical existence — but with a difference. The model for this new existence was the journey of the Sun. At night the Sun descended into the Duat (the underworld). Eventually the Sun meets the body of the mummified Osiris, and Osiris and the Sun, re-energized by each other, rise to a new life for another day. For the deceased, their body and their tomb were their personal Osiris and a personal Duat. For this reason they were often addressed as “Osiris”. For this process to work, some sort of bodily preservation was required, to allow the Ba to return during the night, and to rise to a new life in the morning. However, the complete Akhu was also thought to appear as stars.

Today, the beliefs are as myriad as the stars above. Most Christians believe in some form of heaven (complete with angels, cherubs, heavenly choirs, and a long-bearded, robed man waiting at the entrance to a large golden gate) or hell (being either torridly hot or frigidly cold and containing pitch-forked laden, goat-eyed, horned and tailed half-men to provoke them).

While many who believe in Wicca, Buddhism, and other religions believe that at death the dying consciousness of the body moves to a new biological structure (usually another human body, but some believe that the consciousness can be reborn as animal) and continues their cycle of lives with little interruption. For them, an afterlife only occurs once all the levels of living have been completed.

For others, there is no afterlife at all. Life simply ends when the body dies, and that’s it. Still others believe that the afterlife is simply one-step removed from our own world, sharing the same space as our world, but not viewable (except by a few “chosen” who see and speak to spirits).

And just maybe that’s why we’re so frightened. There are so many possibilities, so many beliefs, that we don’t know what to think. We start second-guessing ourselves and wondering what’s real. Are our loved ones in heaven (or hell), or is that just a platitude that others tell us to comfort us during our bereavement? Do people really come back? Or are they just hanging around, just out of sight, waiting for us physicals to notice them (can you imagine just how crowded that would make their reality?).

So, then we start thinking that maybe we’re just fooling ourselves; maybe there really isn’t any kind of afterlife, after all. Well, considering we each create our own world, we could be “fooling” ourselves, but how would we know?

But just because we can’t get our minds around the type of world that could actually exist outside of our own, doesn’t mean that some type of afterlife doesn’t exist.

So why not talk about it. Let’s bring it out into the open. It’s not morbid, sick, frightening, or depressing. In fact, death is just another type of life waiting to be created and explored by each of us. So, rather than being frightened by the idea of death, try thinking of death as a vacation from life. (Of course, like all vacations, death also ends when you decide to take on a new life, in a new body, with a new family, and a whole new set of dramas to participate in.)

Achieving Oneness

Scientists conducting studies on monks and shaman who go into deep trances expected to come away with the insight of which areas of the brain were activated during these periods of heightened awareness. However, what they discovered instead was that no new areas of the brain were activated; instead, the spatial awareness section of the brain was inactive—totally dark and unused.

What does that mean? It means that when someone states that they felt at one with the universe, they very well may have been. Without the spatial awareness section in our brains functioning, we have no way to distinguish between what is us and what is someone else. We also do not recognize physical locations. In other words, there are no boundaries. We literally see everything as one large, connected energy, and not as individuals. There is no longer a feeling of place and time or you and me.

It’s what the spiritually enlightened have been saying all along—our feelings of separateness and aloneness are self-created and self-perpetuated. We establish the boundaries and lock them into a portion of our brain where we can reference them whenever we feel a need to re-establish ourselves in our reality. However, if we were to stop referencing them, make them inactive, then we would see and experience the world from a totally different perspective, one of universal oneness.

Some people are only able to stop referencing part of this section of their brains. Those that can stop referring to their internal GPS (their spatial locator, which positions them within a specific location in the physical world) can then more easily do remote viewing or have out of body experiences.

Releasing the internal barrier that helps you recognize the difference between self and others is what allows some people to “read” others, to see them clearly. This is because with this particular barrier released, they are able to see the other person as if they were the other person. Without personal internal boundaries you can actually shift your perception to include anyone and everyone if you want to.

The more of this barrier that you release, the more universally is your perception of others, until you completely shut it down, and then you can widen your perception to be everywhere and include everyone, even those energies not recognized by us because they have no particular physical form. Imagine being able to perceive and accept everything—all animals, all peoples, all of nature. Imagine how much more aware we’d be of the damage we do every day by tossing out a gum wrapper or stepping on an ant hill?

If even just a small portion of us adopted this attitude, this skill every day, we would eventually have to stop with the campaigns that say “Save the Planet”, because it would come naturally to us. After all, if we saw the planet as one with ourselves, then we would never pollute; it would be too much like forcing ourselves to drink the toxins that spew from the factories, or eat the refuse that we dump into the landfills every day.

And if we could release that portion of our brains that keeps us separate from everyone else, just think how little crime there would be. How could you kill or maim someone, when you see, feel, and perceive that person just as clearly as you perceive yourself?

Wow, maybe there is a way to create a utopia, but, of course, we would all have to learn to shut down the spatial awareness sections of our brains first. But to me, that sounds exceedingly intriguing. Anyone want to try with me?