Stepping Out

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.

One thought on “Stepping Out

  1. Loved your letter today, especially the part about Sara. She is such a special young woman. And so are you!

    Love you, Leslyn

    If you have to know it before you do it, you will only do what you have always done.

    ________________________________

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