Continued from Jay’s Lesson
“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.” -William Butler Yeats
I was insatiable… I attacked Amazon to find more information on people who had written about past life memories. I read Carol Bowman – a psychologist whose son was having conscious memories, Journey of Souls: Case Studies of Life Between Lives by Michael Newton, and Reliving Past Lives by Helen Wambach. These were quick reads for me, validation for everything I had learned on the mountain and additional fodder for my brain as I tried to imagine myself helping people by using regression therapy.
I thought back to the time that Francis – about 4 years old, pointed to a building and said – “that’s where I died mom, when it was on fire”. The building in question was actually new and under construction. I had to admit that it did look – at night – like a burned-out shell of an older structure but it was brand new, maybe half way completed. Fortunately, I never poo-poo’d his thoughts or comments. My mom’s next door neighbor was an eccentric, wonderful woman who had been extremely involved in ARE (the Association for Research and Enlightenment), a non-profit organization founded by Edgar Casey in 1931. Meme was a grand old soul and believed in things I had only just begun to explore. Back in the day – we thought she was ‘out there’ but now, I had a new appreciation for her and wondered just how close to being ‘out there’ I was becoming! Meme was always allowing for possibilities and so, when Francis began having these ‘spiritual’ moments, I simply accepted them as feasible, regardless of the probability. Francis went on to tell me that his wife was sad but that she had gotten married again. (!)
I stayed in touch with a woman who lived about an hour away who had also been ‘on the mountain’ with me and we got together a couple of times to keep our hypnosis skills honed by practicing on one another. In one session, I had a difficult time coming ‘out’ of the mist as I would complain of being nauseous; not feeling well. Then finally, she suggested that I just ‘push through it’ and I did to find myself spinning. I was about twelve or thirteen and I was with a young boy, in a field of grass on a sunny day. We were elevated on a knob or knoll and we had been spinning around and then falling to the ground to watch the clouds move in circles… we were laughing and having so much fun. I really liked the boy I was with; we were comfortable together but I didn’t get the feeling that he was a brother. When asked to look at my feet I burst out laughing because I was barefoot and my feet were filthy dirty – covered completely in dirt.
I was a girl and I was close to home so she had me go there. As I walked, I could feel the warmth of the sun on my back and I knew I was holding hands with the boy but it was in fun – not serious. We walked into a farm yard of sorts, seemingly it was in the early to mid-1800’s and I could only see one, small house but there was a large barn and I noticed that most of the ‘yard’ was actually dirt. The door to the house was open and I knew I could go in. What struck me most was that the floor of the house was also – dirt. The furnishings were sparse and wooden and I thought I could smell something ‘earthy’ like beef or meat cooking. There was no one in the house and so I went back outside.
I didn’t see any people at all but I ‘knew’ they were there somewhere. I knew I was a part of a family and I sensed that I had a sister, a younger one. The land was relatively flat in most directions with only that small knoll behind the house. I could see corn – everywhere. Mature tall stocks blowing in the wind – I could feel the wind – or at least I could sense the wind against my face.
She advanced me in that life – asking me to go to another time and I saw myself in a room with a pot belly stove in the center and I knew that I was in a schoolroom. I was a teacher perhaps and I was Alice. There was an absolute knowingness to that. The room was empty but I was writing something with chalk on a blackboard. I wore my hair up and I was thin, with a long skirt. I knew I was married, I could ‘sense’ my husband as a large, burly man with dark hair and a beard. She asked me to ‘go home’ and so I found myself walking in a city, down a street of row homes like brownstones to the door of my house. It was on my right as I approached and there were two steps to walk up to a big door.
And then it was over…
Sometimes, a regression is in full swing and then the clock stops – we run out of time or we can’t access any other information. It’s quite difficult to explain the ‘knowing’ piece unless you experience it. It generally feels so clear – the information is just there.
I briefly considered bagging the whole grad school thing to focus on regression therapy and then realized that this whole process started with the idea of ‘credentialing’. THAT was the goal. I had developed this core belief that if I was to be taken seriously – I had to have the basic competencies, verified, and validated. And with that… classes began.