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.
Wednesday 25 November 2015
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.
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.
"Hello".
" 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.
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.
"Hello".
" 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.
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