Chapter 2

Wednesday, 25 November 2015

Past Lives carries on.

It was around the year 2000, I was living in Manchester, Gorton to be precise, not the nicest place in the world, but relatively cheap compared to Stockport. It was Gavin and my second place together, we'd moved from Stockport as the rents were unfeasibly high and I'd tried to pay the bills, but on only his wages, due to my losing my job at the hospital because of ill health, so we moved to Manchester.

I maintained a number of friendships from the people in Stockport and Manchester Pagan scenes and was being asked to start a moot in East Manchester, seeing as I was living that way, it seemed appropriate to do that. So The Crescent Moon Moot was started at The Angel in Denton... We had the function room, free of charge on a Tuesday evening, which was perfect.

I invited all kinds of speakers to come and give talks and it attracted all kinds of people, some of my friends from Stockport and Manchester came over and we had a nice group of people. Among the collective was a lovely lady who went by the name of Sacha. Sacha had more than a passing interest in hypnosis and I thought I'd ask her to regress me.

One Sunday afternoon at Joe's flat in Moss Side, we decided it was the right time and place to regress me. I was happy to be regressed in front of a couple of people, just so they could experience what it was like to see someone 'go under'. Also it meant that I had someone in hand to record anything as it happened.

"I'm going to ask you to count from ten down to one"...

Slowly and softly I was guided into the deeply relaxed state of hypnosis.

"Going back through this life...." She guided me back to childhood and then beyond, back to the experiences in Ancient Egypt.

"Describe where you are, what does it look like?"

I was standing in the courtyard of a temple building, around were pillars and people milling about. The sun was shining, the sky was a brilliant azure blue and the people were dressed in the style of the day, women walked with baskets on their heads. Everyone had a purpose, everyone had something to do. I said "I'm home".

I began to cry, huge sobs, tears running down my face.

"I'm going to ask you, Sheena, to just observe now"

Sacha lifted me from the intense experience of being in the scene and I was now aware that I was watching myself experiencing things.

"Tell me about the labyrinth"..

'The labyrinth was part of the initiation process,' I began. 'Different parts of the labyrinth related to different initiations, and the colourful images were symbolic of the process, they were to awaken things within you.'

"What kinds of things?"

'Knowledge, almost like a story, or pictures, parables, if you like, ways of making you see the world.'

"What's your name?"

I laughed, 'I can't tell you because I can't say it'

"Who's Pharoah?"

I paused. I was trying to say it. 'Amenhotep IVth'

"What's your job? What do you do?"

Images of an incense filled room filled my head. 'I wash their feet. I wash the feet of the High Priests'

I began to cry again. Tears of longing for long forgotten times and places.

"Five, four, three, two, one....and wake"

Sacha bought me out of the hypnotic state, I was inconsolable. And now I had been dragged back to the 21st Century.

Through tears I uttered, "It was wonderful, the colours, the images, so bright and vivid, like I was really there. I was an initiate in the temple and I washed the feet of the Pharoah and High Priests, that was my job. It was amazing."

The mystery of my past life was unravelling, it wouldn't be until a few years later that I discovered more about what happened to me and why.

Tuesday, 14 July 2015

The Past, The Future all have a place here.

The time is the late 1980's, 1988 to be precise. I was now enjoying a new kind of life. Free from feeling manipulated and put upon and enjoying a new relationship. I was awaiting my A level results and planning on going to Polytechnic in the autumn.

Going out with Duncan was fun, he was a clever articulate and very funny young man. Traumatised from the loss of his mother a year or so earlier and the now strained relationship with his father, Duncan was a kind of lost soul who had immersed himself into his music to the exclusion of much else. He had a close circle of friends who he had known for most of his life and a lot of time was spent at various people's houses, enjoying a party atmosphere every Friday night.

Duncan lived in a Victorian semi detached house in Hartshill. Its long corridor like shape seemed to go on forever, both upstairs and downstairs. One particular weekend while his father was away, I stayed over. We had spent the evening watching videos  of Woodstock and The Monkee's film 'Head', not realising that time had passed and it was late.
"Do you fancy some chips? I'll make us some" Duncan slid off to the kitchen to prepare them. I followed and perched myself on a chair by the kitchen table, and we chatted about all sorts of things. Then the scene changed, suddenly, without warning, I was sitting in the same kitchen. I began to tell Duncan what I saw.

"There's food on the table and on the kitchen cupboards, lots of party food. And there are people by the front door. This is so weird, I'm feeling very claustrophobic, its very hot and there are lots of people here. I'm surrounded by people and its scary. They're trying to tell me something, but I don't know what it is." I tried to catch my breath, but I was feeling increasingly stressed out "Some of them are making a telephone call. I think some of them want to go home. Can we go and open the front door and let them go?"
"Yeah, if that's what they want" Duncan, seemingly not phased by my strange behaviour, perhaps humouring me agreed and walked with me toward the front door.
We opened the door and felt the energy change. As if people really had left the house. Returning to the kitchen I sat down again.
"I'm still feeling hot and need to open the back door!" I was feeling increasingly anxious. My breathing laboured. I was overwhelmed by the experience.
I flung the back door open and felt a rushing sensation up my back and over the top of my head and around my body, like someone had climbed up my back and over my head and flew away.
I began breathing deeply, then I turned to my left and saw something in the window next to me.
On the floor was a small boy, watching television. He was happily playing, wearing shorts. Behind him, sitting in an armchair was a beautiful woman with shoulder length curly hair, wearing a red and blue checked shirt and jeans, she sat smoking. I began to cry.
"Whatever is the matter Sheena?" Duncan was concerned by what he's just witnessed, "Why are you crying?"
"I've just seen you as a little boy, sitting on the floor watching tv and a woman was sitting in that chair wearing a checked shirt and jeans and smoking a cigarette" I described the shirt, the colours and how she was sitting, even the pedestal ashtray, I described the little boy.
With tears in his eyes Duncan said "I think you've just seen my mum, she used to wear a checked shirt just like that all the time, and yes, we had one of those ashtrays and she used to sit where you said and yes, I used to sit on the floor"
It wouldn't be the last time I saw her either. On another occasion I saw her dressed in a white suit with a hat, wearing a green blouse, standing on the staircase. She was always around her sons and we'd all sense her from time to time.
That wasn't the only strange experience I had at the house.
Another night when I was staying over, Duncan and I went to bed in his room. I had a fitful night sleeping and couldn't settle.
"Are you OK?" Duncan enquired sleepily
"There's a small girl playing in the room with us, she's playing with a teaset, a ceramic one." I described the scene of a small young girl playing peacefully with her self as is the wont of small children. Suddenly the scene changed.
"I can hear footsteps up the stairs and the little girl is scared, she's trying to get up the wall in this corner (the one we were in), Oh my God she's terrified and screaming, we have to help her!"
I could hear heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs, felt the whole house quake with each stomp. The little girl was trying to climb up the wall, clawing at the walls trying to escape.
The bedroom door swung open in this strange parallel world, and in the doorway stood a large man with dark hair and dark rimmed glasses. The little girl was screaming and crying for help.
"We have to help her Duncan"
So we began to shout at the 'man' swearing at him, shouting at him to leave the little girl alone.
This seemed to go on for an eternity.The man oblivious to our barrage of abuse and desperate pleas to leave us all alone.
A glow emanated from a pinprick of light and another figure appeared. An old man wearing an overcoat and flat cap. He stood by the side of the bed and illuminated the room. He simply said "Thank you" and the room returned to darkness and looked the same as it did before, strewn with clothes and the detritus of a teenage boy.
"I'm glad that's over" I said, "I think the old man took the girl with him, like he was her guardian angel or something and I don't think the other man will be bothering anyone else again"

The lasting impression I had of that house were these experiences. I was always catching something out of the corner of my eye. Old buildings store up a lot of energy in the bricks and mortar, they develop a personality of their own. On the whole the house wasn't a scary house as such. Just one where things had happened, some of them were lasting family memories, others were more severe. I suspected that the house had housed an abuser and his victim, but never really looked into it, as life took me away from the house and I wasn't able to go back armed with more insight and information. All I knew was that I was determined to learn more about my experiences, but didn't know the first place to find out. I carried on reading books, as it was all I could do.

Saturday, 11 July 2015

Teenage Kicks.

During my teen years I became quite focussed on the planet and on what we can do as individuals to save it. I spent my time going to visit the CND offices and knew that I needed to clean up my act regarding my diet. The more I read, the more I knew I was different, but that it was OK.

I first tried vegetarianism in my early teens, I told my parents I wanted to become veggie, but was told "No".. I put it off until I was 17, when I decided enough was enough. I simply couldn't eat the flesh of another animal ever again. I was met with a resounding "well, buy your own food then". So I did. It became important to me to not take on the spiritual essence of another being through eating them. I realised I was a little out of my depth at first, but I was resolute to stick with it. I felt it was a very important part of my spiritual path.

I began to practice yoga. Through some books. I was interested in the poses and the meditative aspects of it. Hatha yoga, with its slow movements and deep breathing appealed to me. I found my creativity burgeoning. I began writing poetry, and had deeper thoughts about the universe. I continued to voraciously devour every book I could. I had extinguished the library by this time and had discovered book shops. I found a book on the I Ching and Tarot, which I still have to this day, finding them crammed full of information which began to go over my head.

At 18, I went through a dark night of the soul. I had been involved in a rather toxic relationship with someone for a couple of years, and had lost myself emotionally in it. The boyfriend was diagnosed with depression and prescribed anti-depressants, which he hid beneath his bed and refused to take. I read about depression and how I could help him, and found that in all reality I couldn't. I reached a crisis point during the study of my A levels. I was alone in my parents house. Today was going to be the day I would die. Suicide wasn't a concious choice, but something that came from the very heart of me. The toxic relationship was draining energy from me. I was becoming a shadow of who I was. i was called 'fat' and had dieted to the extreme by only eating a very meagre amount of food. If I stood up for too long I passed out. I could see my ribs and hips if i looked in the mirror. I covered myself up with baggy clothes. I had no clue what effect being with this person was having. I made a decision, if i could contact either one of my best friends (one from school and one from college) then i would tell them all about how I was feeling. If i couldn't then I would find a way to end my life. The prospect of living my life was alien to me at that point. I dialled the first friend. No reply. I took a deep breath and dialled the second friend.

" Hiya, thank goodness you've answered the phone. I really need to talk to you"

My friend was my saviour. Suggesting "hey, come over tomorrow, I'll get my mate to come over and we can read the cards (tarot) and play music and have a chilled out day".
I cried tears of joy. I meant something to someone.

The following day I went to see my friend at his parents house in Trentham and we sat around playing records, singing songs and reading each others tarot cards. The circular cards of his tarot deck were fascinating to look at and seemed to give me the incentive I needed. I needed to spend more time with my friends. I had begun to see that the relationship I was in was killing my vital energy and I needed to make a change.

I had one more day out with my friends that I recall with great joy (there were probably many more, but this one I held deeply in my heart). This time we went around to the other friend's house in Hartshill and went for a walk over Hartshill fields. We were sharing some wine, or cider (I forget which now) and it was a glorious sunny day. We all sat in the field chatting about life, music and the things that inspired us. Then I kissed them both. I was so happy with these two very sunny bright individuals who had helped me to re-ignited my own inner flame, so grateful. So filled with love.

I made the phone call that evening and spoke to my boyfriend and told him it was over. He cried and begged me not to leave. I knew I had to go. I had more adventures to have. I wouldn't be in a relationship where I was being so controlled and abused by someone who was so in need of help but wouldn't ask for it. I left and began a new journey.

Monday, 3 November 2014

Finding out.

I can't remember the first time that I went to the library. I must have been very young. What I do remember was walking through the large oak doors, through the ornately tiled hallway, past the ships bell and into the repository of books awaiting discovery. I can still smell the scent of old books, of polished wooden floors and the calming atmosphere. I would regularly take out several books at a time and read all of them at once, sparing little time in trying to absorb as much information as I possibly could.

Even as a child I was drawn to ghost stories, science fiction and the like. I would eagerly read Pan books of Horror Stories or books by Aiden Chambers, but would intersperse it with Earth Mysteries books or books on sacred sites. I knew there was more to life than what we currently perceive and my experiences during my dream times were evidence for this. I was searching to see if someone else had experienced what I had. Instead I found myself getting scared by the words, spooked by the stories, yet I was still driven to find out the meaning behind my experiences.

My reading increased as I got older too. I developed a keen interest in astrology, tarot, alternative belief systems and so much more. I read about the world and about people about art, science and everything in between. My experiences seemed to change as I aged too. the visitors in the night became less frequent, but my interesting dreams remained.  I searched books on dream interpretation convinced I'd find the answers, instead I was left with an increasing amount of questions.

At school I excelled in most subjects, yet I still felt that I wasn't good enough, that I somehow couldn't do well. I enjoyed drawing and art, sewing and crafting and music. I knew that somehow everything was connected and that was why it was important to read everything I could. I had a pretty much photographic memory and could recall facts I'd read about many books ago.

I recall one incident that happened, where I had a sense of 'knowing' about something.

The school trip was to Kibblestone Scout Camp. I was wrapped up against the elements, with a packed lunch in my bag and exited the coach into the grounds. I had a strange feeling. I had been here before. I have a memory of this place, but I couldn't tell anyone about it. The leader of our party a young woman asked us about the trees, could we identify them. I correctly identified all the trees in order.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

I hestitated before replying, how could I say what was on my mind?
"No Miss, but I know that through those trees is a Scots Pine"

"You're right, how can you possibly know that?"
"I have no idea" I retreated shyly, why did I know this information?

Another school trip was to see a play at a local High School, it was a performance of The Boyfriend.
As we waited in the entrance hall one of my friends piped up
"Anyone know where the toilets are?"..
Without thinking I simply said "Yeah, they're down there on the left"
"So where are the boys toilets then clever clogs?" one of the boys asked
"Oh they're just past the girls toilets, just before those double doors"
I was right on both counts. I had never been to that High School before, but somehow had a sense of knowing where things were in that building.

So the sense of inner knowing was quite strong. If I tried to focus on it and hone it, then I struggled. It wasn't until my teenage years that I professed my interest in psychic matters to a friend. It was summer and we sat in deckchairs in her garden taking in the suns warm rays.
"Lets play a game, try and guess what I'm thinking" she offered.
I felt unsure, but just said the first thing that came into my head,
"You don't like what Dawn is wearing and you wish she'd go home and leave us alone"
A look of shock crossed her face. I had no idea how I knew what she was thinking, only that the words came into my head and I just said them.

During my teens I explored more subjects, spent more time in libraries, when I could, between the endless demands of studying for exams and further demands of boyfriends. I used astrology as a subject for my O Level English oral exam. I knew some fundamentals and had an intriguing debate with one of the teachers who was examining me. I passed the exam, partially through showing initiative and talking about an unusual subject.

At 15, I came down with what was diagnosed at the time as glandular fever. My best friend at school also caught it. As I descended into the illness and fever overtook me, I fell unconcious. I was alone in my room. Suddenly they appeared, as real as before, the tall thin insect like creature and the other short round one. they took me along the white corridor, I passed the brown wooden cabinet, which was my touch stone and entered into the large room with the large screen and about two to three hundred other people in it. The other people were unaware of me and I couldn't reach out to them. I was overwhelmed and very frightened. I started to scream, but couldn't make a sound, tried to move, but all my limbs felt heavy. I screamed some more. Still no sound. I remembered darkness, then I awoke. I was still screaming, but there was no noise coming from my mouth, I tried to move but it was like moving through treacle. I moved my hands up to my face, they felt like they were huge and swollen like overfilled sausages. I managed to get up. I made a dash to the door. I felt someone was with me in the bedroom. I struggled to open my door, my sausage fingers clumsily grabbing at the handle. I still couldn't make a sound. I fumbled for my parents bedroom door. I was crying, sweating and delerious. My parent woke with a start and gently took me back to bed, tucking me in like they did when I was younger. Soothing me with their words. I settled back into a dreamless sleep.

Those visitors haven't been back since. I did wonder if the nature of their contact had changed. If my dreams had changed due to puberty, or because I had a boyfriend. I started to miss the visitors. Missed the terror that I felt when they were around. Missed the familiarity of them being there. I still didn't know who they were or what they wanted with me. I wanted to know the truth, but was also scared in case it was something I didn't want to hear.

Friday, 10 October 2014

Past Lives continued

Yesterday I discussed the idea of Past Lives and one particular experience that I linked to a relationship I have now. Today I want to explore that further by relating some other experiences that I had a number of years ago. I'm not claiming to be anything special, nor anything better than who I am. Rather I'm exploring the ideas and seeing what comes out.

I'm sitting in a chair in Susan and Tony's house. There's a group of us, all learning together about various spiritual subjects. Tonight's subject is pathworking. Basically meditating to a given script. Being guided through the unconcious mind and visualising the unfolding story in our heads. Having already had experiences with pathworking and meditation I was looking forward to this journey.

Martin,  leading the group,  eloquently begins, "Close your eyes and take a breath... in... and ... out"

I'm slowly drawing my breath in and out, in and out as he takes us further.

"You are surrounded by a beautiful scene, cool green grass beneath your feet and a clear blue sky above your head. In front of you is a river. On the river is a boat. You climb into the boat and begin your journey".

I can see the boat and the river in front of me, then suddenly the scene changes.
I am in a dark corridor. I'm scared.
I turn a corridor and I see something illuminated on the wall. Its brightly coloured hieroglyphics. I know I have to carry on. I stumble through the darkness and turn another corner to see another highlighted scene. Then I am lost in the dark.

The scene changes and I am sitting on a boat. Its a rather splendid boat, I'm with what appears to be a man with a head of a dog. I look around. The boat glides gracefully down the river and on the banks there are people waiting. I am struck by the azure sky and almost blinding sandstone banks.
The boat pulls to a close and I am greeted off the boat by two people.

"And when your boat comes to a stop I want you to get out, take five steps, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and slowly bring your awareness back to the here and now. When you're ready open your eyes."

I slowly open my eyes and look around, regaining my sense of here and now.

"So, would anyone like to share their experiences?" Martin enquires

The majority speak of being on a lovely river in the countryside, describing it as green and lush their boats went into caves, or just along a riverbank.

I speak, with some sense of trepidation when my turn arises.

"Well, I don't think I went to the same place as you guys." I describe the scene and what happened during the meditation.

"That's very interesting, thanks for sharing."

I leave the house and ponder to myself what it might mean. I am suddenly struck with a great desire to find out more about Egypt. I start to read books connected with Egypt to find out more about it. When my now ex-husband asked where we should go on honeymoon, there was only one answer. Egypt.

Thursday, 9 October 2014

Past Lives

I’m running. My legs ache while they pump their way through the knee length dried grass. It’s dark. My heart pounds deeply and strongly in my chest and my breathing is laboured. I have to get away from them. I have to escape.

I break from the trees and run into the clearing in front of a church building. Sanctuary at last, somewhere I might find help to rid myself of my pursuers.

I approach the doorway and frantically reach for the latch. The coolness of the metal sits hard in my hand as I squeeze and turn. The heavy oak door creaks open and inside I find the high vaulted arches of sandstone. I breathe. I sigh. To my left I see a font, carved in sandstone, its bulbous belly pregnant with holy water. I reach out my left had to stroke the curves, the texture gritty under my fingers.

“The font, the font” I whisper. I fall to knees and begin to cry. At last I begin to feel safe, secure and home.

I feel a pain in my back. Rather like being punched. Then the sharpness hits me. I try to breathe in, but I struggle. I breathe in and can’t quite catch it. Slowly, for what seems like an age a blackness covers my vision. I am no longer breathing.

I wake up, gasping for breath. My heart pounds. I feel the sharp pain in my back again. My awareness returns and I realise that I'm lying in bed. The pain is due to an elbow which has found its way into my back and the very position where the stabbing occurred. The revelation begins.

“Grae?” I ventured. “You awake?”

“Hm, yeah.” A muffled sound emerges from the slightly awake body lying next to me

 “This is going to sound really weird, but you stabbed me in the back”

“I did what?” Suddenly he’s more alert.

“I just had this strange dream, only I wasn’t fully asleep.” I described the ‘dream’ to Graeme, who lay there somewhat bemused. “It was definitely you and you stabbed me in the back”

“You’re just dreaming, just because my elbow was in your back, doesn’t mean I stabbed you.”

I described the girl who I was in the dream. I was around twelve, with dark curly hair that was shoulder length. I was running away from some men. I saw the church and knew I’d be safe. However, he had found another way in, or was also hiding from something. I told him that this took place in the Second World War and that he, Graeme, was a Nazi soldier who stabbed me because I must have startled him; or perhaps he stabbed me because it was dark and he didn’t know who it was. An almost accidental killing.

I arms slid around me and gave me a hug. Finally after a few years of feeling uncertain, of wondering why I always felt so insecure, I finally found out why I felt this way. I was reliving a moment in a past life.

I have had other past life experiences down the years, some very clear, some not so clear. I’ll discuss them later.

If we believe that we’re all connected, that we’re all one interconnected soul then this might go some way to explaining people's experiences of past lives. If we have past lives, past experiences that can’t be explained by the current definition and perception of life, then being part of a greater whole might be some way of explaining this. If we are all one soul, a universal conciousness, experiencing life on an individual basis, who can say whether past life experiences are real or not? It might be that by this one soul creating individual human experiences there is some overlap. Perhaps the greater soul needs to experience some things more than once and brings together groups of souls to relive experiences together. If Karma is bought into the equation then the whole experience of past lives begins to make sense.
According to the site Karma is defined as:
Kar·ma  (kär
1. Hinduism & Buddhism The total effect of a person's actions and conduct during the successive 
phases of the person's existence, regarded as determining the person's destiny.
2. Fate; destiny.
3. Informal A distinctive aura, atmosphere, or feeling: There's bad karma around the house today.

So, if Karma is the total effect of the actions of someone during their life/lives and is also determining of someone’s destiny, then Karma has already decided the path we must take.
In order to negate Karma we have to be aware of it. Kind of like being aware of any mistakes we are making or have made and taking appropriate action to put them right. However, this isn’t always possible in one life time. According to Hinduism and Buddhism, any mistakes made in past incarnations need to be resolved in this life time, or in coming life times in order to negate the effects of the Karma. If we don’t seek to correct the mistakes we’ll be caught in the endless cycle of life, death and rebirth until we put it right.

If only it were that simple. In our own day to day lives we make choices. The choices we make often informed by our current level of experience. We also won’t be aware whether we make a good choice or a bad choice until we have experiences that are either positive or negative. Sometimes the negative experiences give us vital skills in survival that we might not gain from positive experiences and vice versa. Only by making choices and experiencing things can we then make better informed choices down the line.

With regard to past lives if we make a mistake, or do something horrible in that life, we can choose to put it right in this life, or not. Either way the choice is ours. We have free will. We can choose whether experiences are going to be bad or good for us.

Friday, 26 September 2014

Chapter 2 - Talking about it all.

Chapter 2 - Talking about it all

"Mum, have you ever had any strange dreams?" I sat down on the sofa next to my mum, the sun shining through the windows. I must have been around seven or eight. I needed to know what the dreams were and I asked the only person who I thought might be able to help.

"Well.. sometimes." My mother answered tentatively, "I usually dream that your Nan Beaman is pregnant when someone in the family is going to have a baby"

"Oh, that's interesting, so do you know who is having the baby, or anything like that?" I asked, my interest piqued.

"Usually not, only that my mum, your nan is pregnant, why do you ask?"

I began to feel quite uncomfortable and wasn't sure how to approach my disclosure.

"Only I've had a dream that keeps repeating itself, "I began, my stomach tied in knots as I spoke, "its really weird mum and its making me scared to go to sleep"

"Its only a nightmare, don't worry, you'll be OK. When I get those dreams I get strange feelings sometimes too, like something has happened before and I can't stop it." She assured.

 My guard was dropping, I began to feel like I could open up.

"Yeah, but I see things, people in my room and they take me places."

Abruptly my mum called the matter to a close, "Its nothing. Just a dream. Promise me you won't talk to your dad about it, he gets angry about things like this, we shouldn't talk about it any more."

Stifled, I began to feel the sense of uneasiness draw across me once more. I then realised that I couldn't talk to my mum about my experiences. But what was I to do? Who could I talk to? My friends at school would just laugh. I was being bullied anyway so really didn't want to have more reason for people to deride me. I decided from that day that if I was going to find out about the dreams and experiences I was going to have to do it the hard way. On my own.