That Which Once Was: Past Lives

GLP has favorites button. So no need to have it in actives page.

I've never found that damn button.

Death is at your doorstep. You stand accused of a rape-murder that you didn't commit. You've always had a temper, so you were an easy choice to blame for something that no one could solve. Probably part of it was that they wanted to be rid of you anyway.

In the absence of a proper gallows, you're sitting on your horse with the townspeople all around you. Your wife is in the crowd, though your children are not. You argued that they shouldn't be left alone, but since your eldest daughter is almost sixteen, your wife said that they would be fine... and she wouldn't miss this for the world.

So now you are about to die for something you didn't do, and your children are alone and unprotected. You suspect that your wife wants to marry someone else, and that's why she didn't argue at all with the charges against you. You wouldn't mind the loss, yourself. But even though she has always treated you like an extra, unwanted child, this still feels like betrayal. You know that she knows you aren't capable of something like this, no matter how angry you got you've never laid a finger on her or your three children.

Even though the town knows about your temper and whisper about it, you still feel as if they should know better, too. You have lived here all your adult life and never harmed anyone; no matter how angry you became. Shout and argue, yes. Hit? Never. Your father taught you what it was like to be beaten by someone you should have been able to trust. You chose a different path, though you hated yourself for your rages.

As they argue amongst themselves for a few minutes, you sit staring at your wife with all the betrayal, rage, and hurt in your heart clear in your eyes for all to see. You're dying anyway, why hide it?

You get your last words, and you tell them all to go to hell for taking the easy way out and killing an innocent man instead of trying to find the real killer. You curse them, in essence saying that you hope they find out the hard way how wrong they were and that they live in shame their entire lives for what they are doing to you.

They laugh and catcall, yelling at you. Someone throws something at you, spooking your horse. The gelding bolts and leaves you dangling from an improperly tied noose. Your death is agonizing and takes long minutes or utter horror, helplessness, and pain. Terror floods you as your breath ceases, and you struggle against the bonds.

But the worst is yet to come. Your youngest pounds into the clearing on the only other family horse. He screams that your homestead is under attack and your daughter is being raped. Hanging helplessly like a gutted fish, you are forgotten as people run for horses to ride to your homestead and save your daughter from the real rapists...

As you die in terrible agony; forgotten and alone, your hatred for the world and for this town grows as the darkness encroaches and less and less of your mind remains aware. You die in a sea of pain, betrayal, and misery.

I invite you to let go of the sense of being stabbed in the back. To relinquish the sorrow and regret and to find your way back from the edge of the abyss. You need no anger to protect yourself. Those around you now are there in love. Often you misunderstand their actions and intentions, coming from a place of distrust and fear.

Be at peace, for you are loved beyond measure and your soul is always protected. It is that deep within you which can never know harm, pain, or loss. Reside there, and you will always be safe.



You stand on the prow of the ship, looking out across the water. The setting sun has turned the ocean gold so that it looks like a field of wheat billowing out around you in all directions. The sun leaves a path of light glittering towards you, so shockingly white that you have to squint against it.

Your family doesn't understand your obsession, but you frequently come out here to sail alone. Somehow, the call of the ocean is the strongest it has ever been today. It seems to lure you, drawing you further than you've ever gone before.

Part of it, too, is the strange allure of being here... the Bermuda Triangle. So many strange occurances here, that you can barely stand the fascination. It's so strong that you've come here from the Islands on your family vacation. You just want to see it, you want to be in it...

You'll go home soon, you promise yourself. But the curiosity is burning, pushing you forward.

Death comes in the darkness of the night. Not in a strange or unusual way. A freak water spout, not unusual, but not necessarily common, slams into your small sailboat. Being asleep, you wore no vest; not that you usually did anyway.

You die disappointed in the rumors and stories. As if, by not dying in the midst of strange circumstances, you have been let down by life, by God, by whatever forces of nature dictate the 'lucky' ones who perish under strange circumstances. Such things are not real, you determine. It is a greater disappointment to you than dying.



The path down to the water's edge is slippery. You make your way down carefully, yet still it seems you keep falling. Repeatedly you slip and slide on the mud and moss at the edge of the water, but you have been sent out here to get water. The old wooden bucket thumps against your side and you fall once more.

There's nothing here but this creek and your house. Trees and such, but no other homesteads around. Your parents wanted to be the first ones here, and that was many years ago. Now you are the first ones here, alright... and the only ones.

The land of milk and honey has turned out to be a serious dud. And worse than that, at the banks of the creek, it's cold and miserable to add to the loneliness that you feel. Your parents hate your 'whining' about being alone. But you're an only child, a 'miracle child' and you have no one to play with. Your parents must work all day long in order to survive and make it work out here. There's no time for your nonsense.

You are only useful for work, and frequently, not even for that. You're too small and sickly to help. You're not intelligent enough, they claim, to assist with the less menial tasks.

Useless, unnecessary, and in the way. That's you. No matter how nicely you say it, "You're useless and in the way" can't be said nicely. And your parents are too stoic to bother with nice, anyway.

You slip down the bank of the creek, sliding again and this time gliding all the way down on your rump. Wet and cold, you dip the bucket in, seething and trying not to cry. You've been sent to fetch water to keep you out of the way.

When you start back up, you trip and fall, and as you fall, you think that they'd probably be happier if you just died. Then they wouldn't have to deal with you anymore or listen to you anymore.

It is the last thing that you think as your head strikes one of the boulders at the edge of the creek. Your life is over, but the loneliness and sense of worthless uselessness follows you into subsequent lifetimes.

I invite you now to understand on a profound level that you are dearly beloved of God. That your very existence has a purpose, a beautiful purpose, a grand purpose, a magnificent purpose. You are perfect as you are, and you need do or be nothing more than you in order to be beloved beyond measure and beyond words. That you exist in a human body at all is testament to the fact that you are a magnificent, amazing soul, if you do nothing at all in your entire lifetime except exist.



When you were five, you were sold by your parents to Egyptian traders. Too many mouths to feed, and you were the youngest. You were brought to Egypt and put to work in the threshing area. You stamp on the wheat and help to separate the kernels from the chaff.

Strangely enough, your life here is far better than it was at home. Here, you are considered to be livestock, true. But you are fed well enough to keep you healthy, and the beatings are few--and usually as a direct result of breaking a known rule.

While the work is hard and the hours are long, you are given adequate health provisions and you sleep on a real cot, not on the floor with no covering as you did at home. You have ceased resenting being sold to feed your brothers and sisters, though you don't understand that you would have perished had you not been sold. All you understand is that this is better.

But your term of service will be up soon, and then you'll be going back to your family. You serve the next few months believing your lot in life to have been improved. When you go back to your parents according to the agreement, however; you are soon starving again as you were before. And your family resents that you were better off than they, no matter how long and no matter that they had sold you into the endenturement.

You hate life now, feeling as if you had been given the world, and now it has been stolen from you again. You live out the brief remainder of this lifetime isolated from your family and the scapegoat for all of their problems, fears, and issues. Their hatred of you leads to abuse and negligence on a large scale.

When the slaver comes back through, seeking endentured children again, your family give him someone else, refusing to let you go in their hatred of you.

So you die alone amongst family, miserable and hated for things beyond your control. You learned not to trust good fortune, for it turns into worse fortune far too quickly.

* * * *

The Seattle area; long, long before the coming of the 'new world' and the white man. You have traveled far in order to reach this land. A famous Medicine Man here may be able to help your family. They are dying of some unknown illness. It has brought death to your tribe and now that your family is ill with it, you seek help from others.

When you arrive, the Medicine Man agrees to see you. When you come into his tent, there is much discussion, and he gives you a bag of medicine to take with you and give to your family. There is enough, he tells you, to cure your family and a few others, but no more.

You leave and head back, but several days later, a small war party from their village overtakes you. You have brought death to their village, they claim. They take you captive and return you to their village.

To appease the spirits, the Medicine Man commands that you be killed. The way in which they kill you is gruesome and need not be related. You die betrayed, alone, and seeking to return to your family, fearful that they will be dead before you can reach them.

But as you die, you realize in despair that if the villagers here are dying now, too... then the Medicine Man could not have cured your family. He accepted all of your pelts and gifts for something that would never have worked anyway!

The level of injustice in it burns at you as you are murdered by the cheating "Medicine Man" and his tribe. You begin telling them of his perfidy, but he silences you with more torture. So not only are you viciously tricked, but viciously murdered and unable to speak the truth.

* * * *

I invite you to exercise trust. Trust is a choice, and although it can come very hard, it is an integral part of genuine relationships. Trust wisely, but do not let your life be lived with distrust and fear. You cannot truly love without trust.





A human's lifetime is the briefest possible moment from a cosmic viewpoint. Your entire lifetime isn't even a flash in the pan to the great infinite One who created everything. Yet for that brief moment, our soul yearns desperately for full Awareness and memory of the One. But it is not the only yearning we experience.

* * * *

You are young and so very in love. It is Germany and the war [WW1] has begun. But you do not notice, and you do not care, beyond the fear that your beloved may go forth into battle. He has served his required years, however, so you hold little fear of it. He is much older than you, and so very handsome.... what does it matter that others look down upon your love?

Walking the streets, you talk and laugh and enjoy your days, until the unthinkable happens. He has been called to the war. "I promise that I will wait," you tell him.

Years later, you are still waiting. He is missing, presumed dead.

Still you wait. There is much pressure on you to marry, but you ignore it. You wait. You continue to write letters, sending them and getting them back. You put them away and wait.

The years pass and you grow old, but still you yearn for him. He has long since passed on, but you can't let go. You promised to wait, and your word is your bond--it is the measure of your honor.

You die still waiting. Your body holds on for long years in the end, but still you waited until the moment it could wait no longer.

No matter how many times you find the same soul again, you are always waiting. I invite you to take another look at the beloved people in your life. Sometimes the soul you await, waits patiently beside you for you to notice...



Part of the problem with yours is that yours are so eager to present, lol. Multiple flashes at a time.

Your most recent appears to be as an Ombudsman in WWII. I see multiple incarnations a bit parallel to my own.. Templar, Castillian Knight, Egyptian outrider [for lack of a better American word], an advisor to Joan of Arc [responsible for many of her decisions; some readers may have mistaken you as Joan herself, but you were the advisor whose suggestions bore the most fruit for her--you were executed with her], a peasant boy murdered by a serial killer and whose death led to his apprehension and punishment, multitudes of otherworldly incarnations [some of which confuse the reading, for they are quite eager to present, but too hard for me to explain], one of those who arrived here from elsewhere and brought DNA for the 'evolution' of the planet, Sumerian warrior-king, one of King James' scribes...

Generally I do not list in such a manner (so don't ask, folks :p), but there's little I can tell you that will be helpful to you at this time.

The only one that jumps out a bit is a Peruvian shaman of indeterminate [besides exceptionally old] age.



Greetings. I see an ancient civilization. You are alive in a time when science and spirituality are married, a united experience instead of separated and at odds as they are now. You are working with color, creating massive tapestries on a loom. They are famous all throughout the known world of your time, for they contain healing energies. Led by your intuition, you create patterns and colors that interweave healing with their soothing qualities.

You create everything from quilts to wall hangings made of the finest, softest threads. You have been doing this for a very long time, and you are excellent at it. Your work is superb and there is much fighting to get your pieces.

You are still young for your people, for lifetimes now are extended well beyond what modern humans of our time imagine as possible. You are expected to live many more years, but the fighting over your goods has become so intense that you have gained notice of a particularly unsavory individual.

He has purchased a great many of your items, for you have always been careful to keep the prices within the grasp of the common man. He has used unscrupulous methods to gain these items, and now there's only one thing in the way of him charging exorbitant prices for them and becoming disgustingly, grotesquely rich... you.

So you are assassinated in order to gain control over the things that you have created from your great gift.

I invite you to share your gifts once more. They may be different, but they are no less valuable in their own right. The door stands open and all you must needs do is walk through it. But the doorway to success and to the use of your current gifts may be the most frightening thing you can imagine. May you find the courage and the hope to step forth and give to the world all that you are, all that you have within, and all that you have to offer.



Opium fields. As far as the eye can see, poppies bob their heads, drowsy in the noonday sun. These are your fields. You inherited them from your father, and you run them strictly, but with a moderate hand. But the world is changing, and the breeze that cuts across the poppies is a heavy, hot wind that sears your soul.

This isn't what you wanted to do. You never wanted these fields and you hate them. You hated your father--and with good reason. You hated these fields and even the smell of poppy flowers is enough to set your teeth on edge and make your spirit restless.

You are old now, though. You are old and angry. Your son, unlike you, desperately wants the poppy fields. But his mind is twisted and his lusts are unbridled. You have tried in vain to make him understand that the best route to caring for these fields is to take care of the people in your care... but the rumors persist... he is raping the livestock [slaves] and he is beating them ruthlessly.

He is your only child, and he is a monster. You regret ever creating him, and you regret that you were so lenient with your wife in her treatment of him. Wealth and privilege has destroyed him as surely as the wind blows across the poppies.

You're selling the fields, before it's too late. Before your son's greed leads to even more torture and sadism. The man you are negotiating with has just left, and your son comes up beside you. You are, as always, uneasy in his presence.

"Father," he tells you, "do not sell the field. I will not allow it."

"Not allow it?" you scoff. "You don't tell me what to do. I am still Master on this plantation."

But you are not. For he has come to betray you. He offers you tea sent by your wife... and you drink the poisoned tea, all unknowing. Yet as you die, you realize that you should have known... you should have known. You can't trust anyone these days...

I invite you to see humanity with new eyes today, dear one. There are beautiful souls in this world who are capable of deep love. There are people in this world who brim to overflowing with compassion for their fellow man. I invite you to change your focus and see the beauty and nobility of the human spirit at its best.



I greet you as we sit at the feet of the Great Infinite Intelligence which created everything, and who is in all things, and through all things, and with all things. Though we know it not, we are forever in the presence of this Great Intelligence, which I call God.

* * * * *

You are a slave at the turn of the century [18th to 19th]. You are carding wool, but your attention is not on your task, for you await the return of the master. He has bought a husband for you, and you can only hope that you will at least like him well enough.

But when he arrives, he is a burly man, huge and powerful... and quite brusque. He is brought into your hut with his meager belongings and you are both informed that you are now his wife. That is all it takes in the eyes of the law. And all it takes for the two of you to be divorced is the Master's statement, as well.

He sits down at the table without introducing himself and begins to eat from your plate. With a quiet sigh, you get another and sit down to eat with him. There is only quiet in the hut while the pair of you eat.

You ask him questions, of where he's from and where he's been. He answers curtly and without clarity. You give up after a few moments. You dread the coming of nightfall, but he beds down before the fire and falls asleep immediately. Quietly, you lay down on your pallet in the corner and lay awake and oddly hurt. He apparently has no interest in you. You will be beaten if you don't produce a child, but you are too fearful to approach him with that knowledge.

The days pass and he barely speaks to you--and never without you speaking first. He works with the animals all day, and you continue to card wool, fearful of what may come if he continues to reject you.

Yet just over a week from when he was brought home, he brings you a bouquet of wildflowers. He puts them in a cup and shoves them at you before sitting down to his dinner. Your pleasure is greeted with a typical grunt of uncertain emotional flavor.

He brings you things he finds around the farm... a pretty stone, more flowers, and various other items, until one day you recognize his actions for what they are; he is courting you in the only way possible for people in your circumstances. You eventually coax him to your bed. He never really turns into much of a talker, but you find that he is the quintessential gentle giant.

When you have had five children together, he is taken from you. He is sold to someone else and just like that, he is gone. You live on for your children, but there is an ache within you that is devastating and deep. You miss him with every part of your being. He cried as he was taken from you, and it was the only time that you saw your gentle giant of a husband lift a hand in anger. The beating he took for fighting to stay with you never left you, to the end of your days.

Nor did the love... or the longing... or the hatred of your Master. You could not forgive the loss. And when two of your children were taken and sold as well, it was the end of you. You could no more survive it than you could have survived a shot to the heart... for indeed, that was what it was.

I cannot say more than this; the precious one who was your husband then is in your life now. Different, yet... beloved. I invite you to let go of the uncertain, inexplicable longing. For you search for what is with you, and near you, and loving you a'ready.



It is no wonder that you desire to know those which are not of this world. For you have traveled the universe in that which we would most closely reckon to be a Gestalt driven vehicle. You are indeed a wanderer, traveling from star to star and watching closely as life in all its many forms and all of its many stages is formed and directed intelligently by beings such as you [have been many times].

You are a cosmic gypsy, suffering a sort of wanderlust that takes you from experience to experience much like a child discarding one toy after another.

This wanderlust has followed you into lifetimes... but it is not always served well. It is the way of this world to sometimes deny us what we most want.

* * * *

It is your first trip to Bangkok. In fact, it is your first trip anywhere. As a young Chinese lady of means, it is unseemly for you to travel. Your tiny, bound feet make it difficult, anyway. This has long been a source of distress for you, but your feet were bound long before you had any say in the matter. They are painful to walk on even for very small distances, so you rarely leave the house. But this time, you have come on this trip by carriage.

You look around yourself, fascinated and enthralled. There is so much here to see that you can barely contain yourself as your lady's helper [maid] tries to get you to behave in a more seemly fashion. Gawking out the windows is so very provincial!

You chafe at her, at the circumstances, at your father's man who is driving the carriage far too quickly through the teeming streets of shouting people.... at life itself for having so long denied you the beauty of the city. You are too enthralled to notice its squalor.

However, there is a festival going on for a minor politician. In the typical nature of humanity, they are not allowing the fact that it's a minor politician get in the way of their fun. The festivities force your father's man to take an alternate route, and this time you cannot miss the squalor of your surroundings.

Sudden fear siezes you as angry faces turn towards the carriage and items are thrown. Your driver pushes the horses faster through the streets, but the people have become aware of you and are very angry.

When they attack, he holds them off to the best of his ability, bidding you and your lady's helper to flee. Alas, there is no fleeing possible with feet the size of an infant's.

Death, when it comes, is a relief from what turns into hours of torture. Rage at 'the man' is taken out on you, and your suffering is extreme. You die feeling as if it was all because you wanted to see the world instead of staying home where it was safe...

So if sometimes it feels as if there is a deep conflict going on within you... there is, indeed.



You stand beside the water, looking out across it. A tugboat chugs heavily down the river with the huge steamer behind it. Although you chafe at the delay, there is nothing you can do. Like everyone with tickets down the river, you must wait.

The hours pass slowly, the heat oppressive and the jungle sounds around you raucous and frightening. You pace until your legs are exhausted. You are older now, and you don't have the physical energy you once had. So you wait without patience since your granddaughter will be having her first child soon.

As a missionary in the depths of the Congo, you have had little contact with the outside world. So once the letter reached you, it was already many months after it had been sent--and that a few months after they knew.

Finally, the wait is over, though, and you board the ship. It steams out into the open waters and you set off for the Americas. By the time you reach your family, you are quite ill. You expected to come home to them and enjoy their company, but instead you have arrived with a high fever and abject misery plaguing your very existence.

Delirium sets in, but you have periods of lucidity. During one of these, you are told that your family has become ill as well. Whatever you are sick with has passed on to them. The baby has died already.

The sense that you have killed your family, that it is all your fault, that you should never have come home pervades your illness. It is already overwhelming, but you overhear the doctor speaking to someone--you know not whom--and saying that the town is under quarantine and many are ill.

The feeling of regret, shame, and guilt swamps you. You begin to regret your entire existence. If only you hadn't gone to Africa. If only you hadn't come back. If only, if only...

I invite you now to recognize on a deep level that not everything is your fault. Everything happens for a reason, and sometimes we may not understand them, but that doesn't necessarily mean that we are at fault for it. Sometimes life is just hard.





Hello SW!

A crowded street. You are hurrying, pushing past the others. You're on a mission! Your entire focus is on getting to the paper on time to turn in your deadline. This story is huge. The underground of Chicago and all the perfidy that goes with it, exposed clearly and certainly in the expose you wrote.

Being just a reporter wasn't good enough for you. You went deep, deep undercover to garner your prize. A prize any journalist would covet... the full scoop, including names, locations, and every possible knowledge required to put the majority of the Chicago Mafia away for good.

As you near the building, you are surprised to see your boss hurrying out to meet you. You'd told him everything, and you knew the story was huge. But this was unprecedented. The Big Boss Man never left his office.

He meets you halfway and pulls you aside between two buildings. There, in the cool air, scented with trash and cigars, you fumble slightly in your excitement.

"Are you sure?" The Big Boss Man demands.

"Yes," you tell him, excitement and urgency overtaking you once more.

"I'm real sorry I gotta do this," he answers.

The gun is loud in the alleyway. Even as he fires on you at point blank range, he takes off, grabbing the satchel you had stored the expose in. All of your work, gone. Your mission in life, incomplete. The one thing you'd given your everything for has been stolen. Worse, by the one man you should have been able to trust with it.

You should have gone to the police first, you think. But then you realize... they are corrupt, too. It's all so hopeless. Corruption is everywhere, and there's no way for a little guy like you to get ahead except to toe the party line. Never! Better to be poor, better to be alone, better to die in agony in an alley; than to give up your integrity.

Integrity and poverty are not linked, yet so many of us carry past life residues that link them.

* * * * *
Your visions.... sometimes all that is asked of us is to speak our truth when everything and everyone around us completely refuses to see it. Each word that you speak, every time that you share, you light a spark. Often, the spark dies away. But it only takes that once for the spark to ignite, and you have a fire that can illuminate the world!

You are asked to be the flint and steel. To let the sparks fall where they will, and the fires ignite--or die--according to the welcome that they receive in the heart they land upon. In the silent vault of the world, a single voice raised in song can bring forth eloquence.

Our gifts, including our visions, are not always for us alone. Sometimes, they are gifted to the visionaries, that the visionaries might speak of them and the blind might hear.



I'm afraid that discussing your past lives would be a bad idea for you at this time. There is such a degree of hopelessness in you that you would only find it to be another excuse to feel helpless.

I urge you to click on my name to the left and find my thread on healing beliefs. I also invite you to correct your eating and begin a better exercise routine. Your problems are very centered upon depression and self-sabotage. There is little that anyone can do to help you until you make a consolidated, strong choice to make changes in your thinking.

The Seth book would be especially important to you, if you should decide at some point in the future that you have suffered enough for being worthless... especially since you are a magnificent, beautiful, beloved child of God.

You do not do what you need to do because you are deeply depressed. You feel as if you deserve to suffer. I invite you to explore self-forgiveness and to find compassion and empathy for the one person you have always denied both...

You.

I love you. I hope that you make a new choice. You are punishing a treasured child of God for no good reason. Please make a new choice soon.



Hello, Rebecca.

I do not know why the other woman would not speak to you, but I assume that there must have been something at that time that would have interfered with your interactions with your children. Or perhaps you thought you were ready, but you were not. I can only guess the reasons, but there are some reasons why we won't speak of certain things at certain times, as you see from the reading above yours.

However, I do think that not at least giving you some explanation for why was discourteous. I have had one reading in which I could not speak, but I did at least try to bring the recipient some peace around that fact. I regret that she did not do so for you. Bringing unhappiness is not the purpose of the gift.

The gentleman in question may have a bit of an attraction for you, or fear that you have a bit of an attraction for him. Whatever his issue in running from you, it has nothing to do with your past life. You and he voided karma in that lifetime. Well done, by the way. I do not sense anything except peace between you [spiritually]. I do, however, sense some sort of attraction that he feels is inappropriate. I suspect that the past karma left enough residual for him to experience that attraction and not understand it. You were lovers in the past, and parted with great love after a lifetime of abuse.

Initially, he was grossly abusive to you, but he overcame his substance addiction and spent the rest of his life attempting to make up for what he had done. Your forgiveness came very hard, but you did give it. And again, a well done on that, for you had much reason never to give it.

Gavrielle: This one is a soul with great difficulties together with you over many lifetimes. You are more often married than parent/child or sibling. This will undoubtedly lead to some friction, since she is not used to being subordinate to you. She has always been equal, or the man in the relationship. I invite you to take a lighter hand with her, and begin to see her as an adult, rather than as your child. It will be difficult, for the rebellion may come [if it has not already]. But remember that she sees herself [and always has] as a full adult. Apologies for any heavy-handedness may be in order. Whether justified or not, it can harm the delicate balance of this relationship.

Zachariah: This one is new to your [immediate] family circle. He is part of your soul group, but has only incarnated together with your immediate family group once in the distant past. I recommend that you treat him a bit more like a beloved and welcome guest, rather than as your son. He is very much a free spirit, and feeling obligations can cause him a great deal of discomfort, even rage. If he has a lot of bottled up rage, it may be from too many expectations on him. Even if they are justified or reasonable, it is the sense of obligation itself which brings him frustration. He is more likely to meet obligations that aren't presented as obligatory. Though you may need to wait for the anger to wear off before you see the fruits of patience and lack of expectation.

Cecelia: Very difficult to read. Withdrawn energetically. She is more self-focused, trying to understand and relate to her new position. She has recently come from a cosmic incarnation, which makes readjusting to this world quite a challenge. Her past lives here are few, but very, very heavy. There are many places in this universe that she'd rather be. She is too sweet for this world [in a manner of speaking]. Great depth of compassion lends 'unnatural' sensitivity to criticism or anger. She takes on all the emotions of those around her because she has no control over her gift [of empathy].

I will offer you no teachings for her, for she will not accept them for many, many years to come. And when that time is right, there will be a teacher for her. For now, all you can do is understand how deep her emotions run, no matter what she may display. She has a profound gift, but she is far from understanding or accepting that, and even further from actually using it.

Benjamin: A rare individual. His path is his own, and he would probably be quite offended to know that you asked... especially since he experiences this world in a very different way than you do. I can offer you nothing here, because spiritually speaking, he does not wish it. I must honor his 'request' for silence.

and also my first grandchild Ayana: Interesting that she is your granddaughter. She is a grandmother who has returned. Your relationship with her will be special, as it is a reflection of a relationship from another lifetime. She was once your grandmother, and she did a pretty atrocious job of it. Bungled it completely. This is your opportunity to teach her how to be a grandmother. I wonder what you will do with it?



First, I invite you to a place of peace. I sense great anxiety and fear issues when I reach out to read you. A very powerful turmoil that you hide. Your orange [personal power] chakra is on overdrive, as is your red [tribal/sexual/earth] chakra. I invite you to do some deep breathing exercises daily, particularly trying to breath with your diaphragm. Your orange chakra is trying to overcompensate for this acute anxiety that you hold onto.

I would also invite you to find a place where you can get some community activities in. If you have family issues with alcohol or drug addictions in those around you, please begin going to Al-Anon. You are badly in need of support from a 'tribe' [community, support group, whatever]. Going to church or taking up bowling would be better for you than whatever you are doing right now. If you are associating a lot with individuals who frequent bars or parties of some sort, I would caution you that you are aggravating the condition of your sense of tribal disconnect. In short, dear one... get some better friends. <3

* * * * *

1805, London sewers. You live here, you always have. You were born here to a whore, with an unknown father. You used to dream that your father was a Lord, and he'd come and get you, needing you to be heir to his vast fortune.

But the years have passed and those dreams have died. But you have other dreams, dreams of getting out of this cesspit. You live in the 'dregs'; a section of the city so filthy that anyone walking into it for any reason leaves reeking, the stench following them like a dark cloud.

Here, it's known as the sewer, though.

All you've ever wanted was to leave the sewer. To run free, to escape. To walk with pride and to be somebody that others look up to. You've been working hard and you've been saving. Hiding your money away from working in the sweatshops. It's a tiny amount, but it's all yours.

And today, you're taking the leap. You've stolen some clothes from a peasant and tucked them away. You get them out, tying them to a stick inside a grungy bag so none will think to steal them. Inside them, you've hidden your few coins.

You walk away from the sewers at night, hiding when the soldiers stroll past--usually with a whore on their arm. Slinking stealthily, you finally escape the worst of the sewers. But morning is coming and you've not made it out of town. The streets are confusing and you're in a place you've never been before.

You hide for the day, knowing that if a 'sewer rat' is found wandering outside your area, you'll be imprisoned.

Finally, you escape the city and flee under cover of darkness. You wander for a long time until you find a pond to wash in. You are terrified, but you know that you must wash. All your life, you've been taught that you can't wash in water, but you do it anyway.

When at last the stink is gone, you change into your purloined clothing. It doesn't fit you well, but it's better than what you had. You hide your few coins and continue on, starvation clinging to you... nothing new. A lifelong friend, indeed.

You eventually reach a farmstead and stop to ask for directions to an inn. Your hunger is no longer the familiar tug, but is now a ravening beast.

To your great surprise, the peasants invite you in and feed you. Their food is meager, but to you; a banquet.

In the end, you stay and work for them. You learn to farm, and end up in the village as an apprentice to the candlemaker. But you never quite feel that you fit in. Compared to you, these people are all much greater than you. They are peasants and you're just a sewer rat. You can take the rat out of the sewer, but you can't take the sewer out of the rat, you often think to yourself.

So you die well above your original station in life, by your own doing. You improved your life, and you lived 'the lie' of being a peasant while you were but a sewer rat. The sense of dislocation and ennui followed you, keeping you distant from friends and neighbors who had no idea at all of your inner pain and loneliness.

I invite you to understand that your life is what you make of it. If you climb your way up, then you do belong. I invite you to realize that where you end up, is your rightful place, not where you began. So choose wisely. You can change anything you choose to... but first you have to choose to.

This is the much requested thread in which I will accept requests for Readings.

That being said, this also comes with a caveat or five:

1. Be patient. If the other thread is any indication, there will be loads of requests. I CANNOT DO THEM AS FAST AS I GET THEM. It may be days, or even weeks. There are tons of requests and only one of me. I can only do a few a day as I have other obligations.

2. Be polite. This isn't an open thread. Be on topic or you will be banned from the thread. On topic or respectful chatting is welcomed. "OMG THIS IS FAKE" stuff is not. If that's your opinion, please express it all you want... somewhere else. It's a big forum. :p

3. Don't ask me a million questions across a bunch of various posts. Other people want my time, too; please keep that in mind.

4. I do them in order. If I skip you IN ORDER, then please say something. I don't ever skip anyone on purpose. But please say it nicely, don't whine about it. It wasn't on purpose and it wasn't to be mean. I'm a human bean and I make errors. It's not about you, it's because I'm a human bean and... yeah. Exactly.

5. Here's the life story that people mention here and there: [link to ritualabuseexposed.wordpress.com]


Here is the other thread (hint: any requests given there will be ignored):

Thread: What is the absolute strangest thing that you have ever seen that no one else could POSSIBLY beleive?

Knock yourselves out... first come, first serve.

When you have time dear....I know one of my past lives already but would like to hear what you see...Thanks..Best wishes

Just curious to know if you access the "Akashic records" and need explicit approval of the person before you gain entry to them.

Cheers.

Sandi, please do not answer this, but you are so right on my reading, I have always recalled bits of both the lives you spoke of but more is the not trusting part, even in this life I have been tricked in this life so I gave up on trusting all, but now alone so I wont get hurt again. Is being lonesome worth not being hurt? I dont know, my thought for years has been it is better to have never loved than to have loved and lost, maybe in the next life I will have trust.

I'm sorry to take up space for this, but my request is on page 6, regarding unexpected pregnancy.......I've changed my mind about the reading and ask you to delete the request....I couldn't figure out how to do that....thanks anyway Sandi....

Of course it is possible for me to love you. As they say in Avatar, "I see you."

I have seen your soul, that's what the Reading is. You create your worth in your own eyes, and you can always make a new choice.

just sayin... *wink*

Hi Sandi, in the previous thread I was the 'Scandinavian husband killer',
and asked if I should continue to try make it up with whom I strongly consider to be my reincarnated daughter, whom I had 'saved'; Can you see if she is ? Should I give up ? I still would like to know, but was jumped.
I would be very grateful, this is a very strong attachment for me.

I suppose I might be accessing the Akashic, although honestly I don't think so. I think it's more that I take a look at the soul itself.

I need no permission, for on a soul level, none of this is secret.

The soul sings of all of its history. The song, the dance, the light show, of your soul is your Great Name, and it constantly changes and yet is always identifiable.

Difficult to explain... it would be like me walking up to you and telling you what clothes you are wearing, describing everything visible, and then you asking me if I had permission to look at your clothes or see your eye color or hair color... er... it's kind of publicly on display...???

That's the way this is for me. Although I must say that I believe it flows from God, and that I will never disclose anything specifically requested not to. But silence is more necessary a request, than speaking.

God has mandated that I speak now. It is frightening and difficult for me, but how can I say 'no thanks' to the one Being I love most in all existence?

You jsut frightend me bad! Through whose eyes did you see me? Please be honest.

Welcome back Sandi T Reading all your latest posts and even though not aimed at me it is amazing the little nuggets they contain. What a gift you have, and I can understand how difficult it must be, we are blessed that you are sharing it with us. Thank you

I'm not surprised. It is a little known fact that the Dalai Lama has major anger management issues.

This came up during an interview with the Dalai Lama and ABC TV's Kerry O'Brien on the 7.30 Report a few years ago.

I remember being quite pissed off. All those years of meditating to make me more peaceful etc - and yet - the freaking Dalai Lama, of ALL PEOPLE, after ALL his years, no lifetimes (they claim) of meditation and spiritual exercises - and YET HE HAS ANGER MANAGEMENT ISSUES~!!!!

So much for all that spiritual stuff - if the Dalai Lama has temper tantrums, then wtf hope do we all have??

LOL

The eyes of God.

Do you not understand that the eyes of God can see only good?

If the eyes of God see you, then you are good.

The visions I have of others are given to me by God. The Great Universal Intelligence that created everything with great Love.

You are no mistake. God does not make mistakes.

Oh my goodness! I was going to ask Sandi something very similar to this in regard to my daughter. Unfortunately, my daughter married the boy and has stayed married -- at one point they werre headed for divorce court, was ready to file the papers,but he somehow talked her out of it at the eleventh hour. It seems to me from the moment this young man came into my daughter's life, she is not the same person. Even on their good days they are just 'ok.' It has been the greatest challenge of my husband and my life. Presently, she is not involving herself and her family ( there are little ones now too as he talked her into having children right away) with anything or anyone in our extended family. This has been going on and on and on for years. All of us have reached out, several times really, to try to talk some sense into her but she does not seem to want to resolve anything. It is so apparent how unhappy she is. One can visibly see it. The worst part of this whole mess is not being able to see the little ones or share in birthday's, celebrations, games, etc. I miss the young woman who was my daughter,
Wish I had done a background check on this guy before she married him. He was arrested for robberya before they got married, I did not know about his arrest. I kick myself over and over for not being better informed and because of it -- here we are-- all of us-- and the heartache we are all going through, especially her and the kids.

I am so sad with all of this and at times don't know if I will make it through

Any light you can shed on this I would really appreciate it. Thank you Sandi for giving of your time and your goodness with this thread. You are helping so many people.

A very strange occurance happened to me today, on this very day! Where I looked into my daughters eyes and saw a different spirit, this obviously surprised me actually it stunned me I stooped down low and offered my arms wide open for a hug to wich she dived into and gave me the biggest hug she ever has given me. I thought wow what a beutiful spirit.

She was your mirror this morning.

She was your mirror this morning.

Well, how would you feel if you were just a kid with your family, loving them and being loved by them, when suddenly monks swooped in... put you through a bunch of tests... stole you from your family... and then forced you to take on a lifetime job you never wanted?

Of course he's pissed!

Worse, he's supposed to be happy, and his losses are never acknowledged. He lost his family, but oh well... he's the dalai lama! He's cool! He should think it's the best thing evah!

Whether he does or not...

No, I don't need anything from the person making the request. I can tune into energy/past lives/etc. without it.

I have one more request in the other thread, and then I'll begin on the requests here, AS I HAVE TIME.