Tag Archives: past life

A Journey of Insight

Somewhere in my skepticism and excitement I allowed myself to travel. I didn’t see the blackness or the single bright star I was supposed to be moving toward. I didn’t see the green-blue mist and I wondered if this was even going to work for me. I didn’t feel myself moving at all. However, in that split second when my feet were to hit the ground, they did. They did. The feet I saw when I looked down were bare and so were my legs. I wore a cotton or muslin dress or nightgown, my long blond hair blew around beside my face and the long strands of green-gold grass bent toward me in the fields as the wind blew.

I stood there alone but unafraid. I looked toward the horizon and out onto the choppy ocean with waves crashing against rocks and to the beach inside a basin whose walls were rocky cliffs that contrasted with the blue and white of the water they surrounded. I could see the cabin, rustic, grassy and I was in no hurry to go there. She was there. Her long grey and black hair hung down loosely as she swept the floor; always sweeping, always with her back toward me. She didn’t love me, she barely tolerated me. She was nanny. My mother had died. My father? He had sailed away on a ship with great white-grey sails and I had known he’d never come back and I had followed my instructions to not act like a baby.

As guided, I moved to another time in my life when they boy waited for me at the place where the path met the rail fence of his family’s property. He cared for me. He was kind. His light brown hair was combed straight down evenly all round his head. His white shirt had puffy sleeves and cuffs and his brown rough pants were held up with strap that ended in an upside down v with a button on each side.

Again guided to another point I held our baby girl in my arms and felt joy. Later I saw her off on a ship so she could become educated. She returned and taught others but never really was close to me. Next, he held my hand and my chest was tight and it hurt to breathe and I wasn’t afraid to die because he was there for me. I looked on the wall and I saw the end of a word “shire” and 1792.

I confronted nanny and father, I forgave them and released them and was once again guided to another journey. I thought I couldn’t possibly be really experiencing this and maybe the whole thing would be over soon. However, again my feet hit the ground and when I was guided to describe what I felt, my feet hurt so much. I was wearing tight white boots with so many tiny white buttons. I saw layers of skirts that were pushed out by the layers nestled underneath. I saw that dark stone road under those boots and was aware of the hustle and bustle around me. I walked across the street to look inside the shop windows but I didn’t go in. I wasn’t to spend money but I looked longingly through the shop window wondering if any shoes that wouldn’t hurt me feet could be found within.  I was encouraged to walk to my home only a few blocks away. It was a tall house that reminded me of the Banks’ home in Mary Poppins. As I walked in through the door everything was neatly in its place and very formal. My mother didn’t have time to acknowledge me as she went about ensuring the perfection of it all. I knew my father was disappointed that I hadn’t been a boy who would take over his business. My role was to give evidence to his success with my appearance, to be seen and not heard. The only time I felt joy was to take my painful shoes off and read my books alone and out of site.  My older sister was perfect, her name was Gladdy. She married well and left and rarely visited but did give me a little black dog for comfort.

My mother passed away of the chest and my father grew older until, at last, he sat in a wicker wheelchair his hair greyed and his posture slumped. I was with him when he passed. A short time later I opened the window coverings and let the sunshine in. Guests came for tea and my sister returned with her three children. I was especially fond of the red-haired girl who loved to kick off her shoes and read with me.  At the end, I was alone, in my bed and I wasn’t afraid for the angels came and gently took me with them.

In the discussion with my guide afterwards, I realized I had strength and that if my fear of being truly alone came true, I’d be okay with that. I felt stronger and I felt connected. I searched Pembrokeshire Wales and it looked exactly like my vision – http://nt.pcnpa.org.uk/website/sitefiles/nt_page.asp?PageID=2

Thank you to Olive Readers for this experience