Back in 1995, I met a distant cousin of mine for the first time.
She was amazing, we talked for hours and hours. I was 21 years old and blossoming in many ways, my spiritual identity was kind of forming definite certainties about the world. I was examining the greater story going on under the minutiae of our individual stories.
She was a channeller. She regressed people to past lives and she knew how to guide you to there and bring you back.
My interest was immediately piqued.
She explained that it wasn’t like you were going to go to Ancient Egypt, or Atlantis or anything…. she said it was a kind of accessing of memories. If done properly, you could access the memories you needed to make the most sense of what you were experiencing in this lifetime.
I wasn’t sure it would work. You know, I have always thought myself to be too mentally strong willed to be hypnotised or entranced or any of that shit.
I thought I’d like to try.
My cousin told me I out to focus my attention first. Try to ask my spirit guide for help first. To ask the Universe to help me by allowing access to this kind of information and rather than ask about something specific, she told me ask for the most valuable information that could help me in this lifetime.
She also told me, if it worked it would open a door than would probably never quite completely close, so to be prepared if the experience resonated with me for years and years to come.
So we cleared my grandmother’s bedroom of her three screaming children, while I gathered up my tape recorder and asked her if she would take written notes for me.
Her children didn’t seem to understand that we were trying something serious in there and continued to scream and burst into the room during the breathing and relaxation exercises she was taking me through.
At first it was very hard to concentrate on her voice, but very, very slowly I started to feel part of my consciousness disconnect from my body and start to search. I was very aware of my body being on my grandmother’s bed, of my cousin, of the room and the sounds of the house, but my skin had disappeared, my bones were made of light and I was also in a place that I think was both inside of me and somewhere else as well.
My cousin asked me to describe what I saw. I looked around and for a moment I had no words. I told her I couldn’t.
She asked me to look at my feet. So I looked down and saw my feet. She told me to describe my feet.
I was wearing black silk slippers with some kind of shiny beads, white in colour, were sewn onto the center. The tips were pointy.
She asked me to describe what I was wearing. I was wearing a dark gray-black light wool dress that fell to the ground. I could see the dust on the edge of the heavy outer petticoat I was wearing, and the tips of the black slippers I was wearing. I had a black shawl around me, and a black bonnet on my head.
My cousin asked me to look up and see if there was any water nearby. There was. There was a circular fountain with cherubs in a stone garden gently flowing sprays of water down into the base.
My cousin asked me to look further around and to try to describe what I saw now.
I was standing in an alcove of hedges some low and some high. There was a semi-circular stone bench there, but beyond the low part of the hedges there were lawns and further still a wood of some size. Adjacent to the wood there was a stream and a pond formed in a depression of the rolling land.
My cousin asked me to turn around and look behind me. I saw a wide driveway of cobbled stone. beyond it large trees, I think there were oaks. Through the trees I could see more lawns and manicured flowers, and a row of hedges.
She asked me to walk around. I stepped out onto the cobblestones and looked up and down. Down there was a gate, thrown open and a long looking road that disappeared around a bend through trees. At a short distance from the main gate, on either side of the road to the driveway there were two low fences on either side of the road blocking what appeared to be dirt roads leading off in either direction adjacent to the road/driveway itself.
Looking up, there was a long line of oaks framing the cobblestone driveway all the way up the the tall Greco-Roman columns gracing the balustrade of the white house I could see beyond the –what do you call them? — roundabout at the end of the driveway.
My cousin’s voice asked me wanted to do. I told her I had to go into the house.
I started walking along the driveway, looking left and right, catching glimpses of the lawns, the gardens, the wood through the trees. I walked slowly, not really eager to go into the house, but I felt resigned to doing it.
I walked around the ’roundabout’ and walked up the few low stairs and across the covered part of the driveway. I stepped up more low stairs, and opened the heavy outer door.
I was in a landing of sorts… a foyez. It curved around in a semicircle and the corridor ran to my left and my right.. I turned and I walked to my right, it felt familiar, something I always did. When I walked to the end of the corridor it opened into a distinctive circular little cloak room.
There was a mirror that ran from above the mantle of an unlit fireplace. On the opposite wall, there was a window, curved like the wall, that ran from about four feet off the ground, to within a few inches of the ceiling.
I took my bonnet off and walked towards the mirror. Here’s the thing, the thing that really spooked me. I have been having a recurring dream since I was about four or five. Of exactly that moment, walking towards that mirror and looking out of my eyes, into the face of someone I had never seen before. I know it’s me, but it’s not my face that I know in this life, but only in my dreams. This moment, of walking towards the mirror, is one that replays in my dreams over and over.
On the tape recording, you can hear my voice: “It’s my dream!”
My cousin’s voice: “You’ve dreamed this?”
My voice: “Yes. All my life.”
My cousin’s voice: “Describe the face you see.”
I have blond hair and deep green eyes. I have a small chin and nose, I have high wide cheekbones. When I look at myself in the mirror, I have dark circles under my eyes and it looks like I have been crying.
My cousin’s voice: “Follow the experience. What time of the day is it?”
I hang the heavier shawl and I look out the window. The sun is just beginning to set, yet somehow I know that it is the summer, at it’s actually about 7 or 8 o’clock.
My cousin’s voice: “Follow the experience, just let it flow…..”
I’ll just tell you what flowed down to me.
I left the cloakroom and I climbed the wide staircase to the first floor.
I walked down a red corridor with light brown doors, sometimes single, sometimes double doors on either side. I got to a particular set of double doors and opened them, walking into a fairly spacious living room.
There were three middle aged women there. All three dressed in severe black, one whose face seemed a little drawn, the other two warm and animated, one in particular whose face just lit up when she saw me. These were my aunts. This is their drawing room and they are all spinsters.
I have four Aunts. My mother was a from a family of five sisters. My mother married young and for love. She and my father died when I was eleven or twelve — they drowned on a ship travelling between England and the Americas — and I have been living with my mother’s sister and her husband as they are my legal guardians. This aunt and her husband do not particularly like me. They have done their duty, but they have not minced words about their feelings regarding me.
The aunt whose face lit up is my favorite aunt. She is the only one who really loves me in my family. She is the one who really helped me after my parents died and the only member of my family that II feel close to at all. She’s a little naughty this aunt. She’s still very much ‘proper’ she just has a mischievous streak. I love her very much.
My cousin asks me if they speak to me. I say that my favourite aunt is asking me if I will attend the party tonight. I tell her I haven’t decided. One of the other aunt’s tells me I should do it, force myself to do it.
My cousin’s voice: Has something happened to you recently?
My husband died a year ago, I tell her.
My cousin’s voice: Why is tonight special?
Yesterday was a year since John, my husband died and tonight it’s my cousin’s debut in society, I reply. Tonight I am supposed to attend the ball after the ceremony.
My cousin’s voice: Move forward in time. Move forward to the next significant event.
I step through the doorway and into the ballroom downstairs and pause. It is filled with people in coat tails, tuxedos, the women in finery. My cousin is near the couches at one end of the room and she is laughing. My aunt, my uncle, several other relatives and close friends are thronged at one end of the room, offering her congratulations.
Tonight I chose a red dress. When I walk over to them, I cut right through the middle of the ballroom and as I walk over to them, I am very aware of everyone watching me. This is sort of my coming out as well. I have been mourning my husband.
I try my best to smile as I approach my family, but I can see some of the disapproving looks and my cousin’s intense and nasty expression, I am not sure what kind of expression I have on my face, but I am going to go through with this I have decided, I will not run. My cousin, also has never liked me much, influenced by her small-minded parents. She has been very cruel to me over the years and been a source of much discomfort.
My cousin’s voice: Do you recognise anyone from this life in the faces of the people in your life now?
I don’t think I understood.
Robert and I met when we were teenagers, sixteen and seventeen at a birthday party for one of our mutual friends. We found ourselves both sulking in a corner. We didn’t like each other much at first, but after a few sharp jabs at one another we ended up talking for hours about books and life and all kinds of things.
Over the course of the next several months we saw each other infrequently, but we were always talking and laughing when we did.
AT some point we realised there was more than just friendship going on and we started to arrange meetings. At first it was in a park, but he kissed me and the kisses got better and better, until he was sneaking onto my families estate and we would meet in the woods at night.
We were always chaste. We never had sex, but there was a lot of kissing and petting.
We feel very much in love and after about a year of meeting secretly, he asked me to marry him. I said yes and he began to begin the process of formally asking for my hand.
It caused an uproar in both our families. His father was a close associate of a man who was accused of embezzling a large sum of money from a man who was a close associate of my uncle’s.
His parents first said no, because I was an unsuitable bride– an orphan and with only a small fortune held in trust for me from my parents — but as a first born son he was the heir and he threatened all manner of dissidence until they agreed to broker with my family for the marriage.
My family absolutely refused and confined me for almost a month. When I was released, they quickly forced me into marrying the second son of a Duke or something like that. He was a captain in the English army. He was being trained as an administrator.
He wasn’t too interested in the marriage either, he had had his own paramour and was not too keen on being married so young. However, his family pressure him because my family was willing to settle quite a sum of money on him and then to get rid of me and the embarrassment of having me married to people they considered to be a bunch of crooks.
After we were married, he was very gracious to me and he offered me friendship. He was very interested in my love affair that ended and he actually comforted me when I went through the worst of my heartbreak over the situation. However the marriage remained unconsummated for more than a year. However, we became very good friends.
At some point, I did find myself falling in love with him and he with me. The relationship became deeper and we did eventually consummate the relationship and we lived together as man and wife for about two years.
Being an army administrator he eventually got offered a post in a developing part of India. It was an opportunity for him to prove himself and he intended to take it. He asked me to come with him, but I refused. I was ‘English’ and I wasn’t going to go somewhere that was rough and ‘foreign’. He tried to convince me to come for months and months. Eventually, we made an arrangement that he would go first and then make it comfortable, give me some more time to think about it and then I would come for a visit. If I liked it or could stand it, we would talk about it some more.
So he went off to India. Eight months later he died.
I was heartbroken and guilt-ridden. I felt abandoned again, alone after losing some many people I loved. I genuinely mourned John. I had not expected to love him, but I loved him very much.
This was the point that I entered the regression.
When Robert appeared at the ball, it was out of sheer cussedness. He did it because he wanted to thumb his nose at my family, but because he wanted to see me.
I fled the room once I saw him and he took his time but he followed me. When he found me, we argued because I told him he didn’t care about what would happen to me now he had gone against the grain and gate crashed. I would be the one who would bear the brunt of my family’s anger over the incident.
He apologised, but he said he still loved me and he missed me more than he had missed anyone in his whole life. He apologised again and left.
A few weeks later, he crawled up into my bedroom and we made love for the first time.
Our relationship changed because he was not my first lover and he kind of resented my husband because I did tell him I genuinely loved him after all.
This caused us some problems. He was happy to have me back in his life, and we had a very clandestine, bordering on scandalous affair for almost a year, but he couldn’t get over the fact that I had married someone else and that I fell in love with him.
We has a series of nasty fights…. he started keeping another mistress and eventually I felt I had to break off the relationship. He didn’t take it well.
About three weeks later, he and my cousin (past life) eloped. Both my aunt, her mother and I took to our rooms and remained in isolation. I found out later that she was refusing to eat much the way I had, crying and suffering alone in our rooms.
My cousin had always been jealous of me. I was a beautiful child and grew into a beautiful woman. She, by society’s standards, was only passingly pretty. She also was not very bright and I told her so, she was however devious which I didn’t think was a good combination and I abhorred some of her behaviour. I tended to avoid her and her company as much as possible and she resented me as well. I knew why she did it. I knew he did it to hurt me as well. So I decided not to give in.
I eventually emerged from my room. I spent a lot of time in my aunt’s living room. In a corner, embroidering pillowcase after pillowcase, creating several tapestries. Because he was a member of the family now, and my cousin was my aunt’s only child, she was heartened because he and his family were filthy rich, old money rich.
I was forced to endure quite a number of ‘family gatherings’.
He and I also had a few nasty little scenes over the years of their marriage. Some of them not quite private. My cousin also was very immature and spoilt and he found her bit of a chore. He also realised that the only reason he got into this thing with her was so he could spend time near me, even if it was unpleasant.
He was honourable though and did try to be a husband to my cousin. However, she too was very jealous and she knew we still loved each other and eventually she could see it and she became very unpleasant to be around.
One night in a fit of rage, she ran out of their house into the night in very little but her dressing gown. She threw herself into a pond, got rained on and eventually caught pneumonia and after a lingering illness, she died.
He felt guilty for a long time, like he had driven her to it. I was sorry she was dead, but you know love was not lost between us.
I stayed away from him for a long time and he avoided me as well. At some social gathering we saw each other again and we talked briefly. We slowly made friends with each other again. He and I took a long time to become lovers again because there had been a lot of mistrust and betrayals between us.
We spent a long time just being as we were not planning anything. Then I came into my inheritance and was suddenly independent from my family for the first time.
I took my favourite aunt with me and moved into my father’s ancestral estate.
After a few years of our affair being something we didn’t force or induce, we decided to marry. I was twenty-eight. We had three children together, two boys and one girl.
Our only real disagreement came when we realised that our middle son was gay. It happened when he was about eighteen or nineteen and Robert disowned him.
The boy disappeared and I was very worried. I had hired detectives to find him without much success. It took a long time, years to find him. When I did he was living in a hovel in poverty. I took him from there and brought him home with me and nursed him in one of my estates away from his father.
I confronted him about his treatment of the boy and I left him for a long time. I was adamant that he accept the boy or I would never return to him. He was very stubborn, but eventually he capitulated. It took them a long time to rebuild their relationship and it never quite became warm, but they tried for me.
My cousin’s voice: What is the next most significant event in this life.
When Robert died, I felt very alone. My children and grandchildren were a joy and comfort but I missed Robert very much.
After a year or two I had a stroke. I was paralysed on my left side. I lived with discomfort and difficulty for another year and a half.
When I died, my family was with me. My mother, my father, John and Robert came to guide me through. I wasn’t alone, everyone was with me.
Now the thing with all this talk about reincarnation is, that it has to relate to the experience your are having right now, in this body with the people that are around you.
There are many new souls around, but old souls that have generated karma together tend to move together.
In my life I clearly see Robert in my past life as TMG (who I have referred to before as Boobie re: Boobie Regrets). Last week, when I asked Mama Osun, she told me Sweet Thing was John from that life as well.
TMG and I met when I was seventeen, he was eighteen. After one week we fell in love. It was the first time in my life that my heart flipped over in my chest with a man. He made my blood pound and set my skin on fire. It was intense between us, except although we made love, I never had orgasms. I guess I was too young, too scared, still too immature to know or understand what they were or why they were necessary. I enjoyed what we did, and as far I was concerned it was good as it was it didn’t bother me that I didn’t come at all.
He was an American… by big (6 foot 4 inch, size fifteen, nine inches of penis) perfect man. We had three weeks of perfect, blissful, sweetly innocent yet completely carnal head rush into love. He was the first man I ever connected with on an intellectual, spiritual, mental as well as physical connection with.
After that summer, the deep, passionate being in love with one another continued–long distance. This went on for four years. We had one perfect seven or eight weeks together the following summer, then our lives changed.
I was raped, he was powerless from thousands of miles away and I went into a deep, black depression. His family also began to steer him away from me and my mother away from him. We held on…. sorta… for another two years.
He came and visited me after I have moved to Trinidad in January of 1994, but things had changed between us. He was to stay for six weeks, but he only stayed for three days and then abandoned me to go back to the States. He wouldn’t say that we had broken up, in fact after he had disappeared for about six weeks, he would only tell me that he loved me.
Two weeks after he resurfaced, I realised I was pregnant.
It was a very stressful time for me. I was barely eating, I was crying a lot because things were happening between TMG(Boobie) and I that I couldn’t understand. My mother was like a harridan and she was making me more miserable.
TMG(Boobie) was different. We had horrible arguments on the telephone and he accused me of all kinds of awful untrue things. He refused to tell his parents what was happening so I was alone in this, fighting a losing battle.
Sometime in early April of 1994 I miscarried. I was heartbroken. TMG(Boobie) cried like a baby on the phone, no matter how upset he was when I told him I was pregnant. He said some awful things about his mother dodging bullets and such, but he reassured me that he loved me and that we would be together soon.
His graduation was approaching in June of 1995 and it was time for us to decide, for real if this was going to happen. I thought we had been holding on for those whole four year, waiting for the time to be right, for us to be together. He called me up a few weeks before his graduation and said, “I love you, but I think I have missed out on a lot of life because I had been committed to this relationship with you.”
I told him, “You’re free to do what you have to do.”
And as devastated as I was, I let him go. Because I figured if I let go, he’ll evenutally realise what a fucking idiot he was and find his way to me. As long as he didn’t go off and marry someone, we still had a chance to make it.
Later in the summer, when this past life regression experience happened and we had already broken up going on two months. One week to the day after the regression experience, he called me up and told me that he had to be honest with me and tell me the truth.
He had been cheating on me with this girl for six months before he came to visit me that January in 1994. He had just received an ultimatum from his family about me, telling him to break it off with me and stick with this other girl when he came to visit. So when I got pregnant it was like he was being pulled in two directions.
His family told him that they would no longer support him in college, that he was on his own, and this girl had made him an offer based her giving him financial support, and he married her. It happened just around the time that I was miscarrying.
Well you could have slapped me with fish and stuffed my stockings, I was shocked!!
I suddenly remembered what my cousin and I talked about. I remember she asked me what I thought it meant afterwards, the back and forth with TMG(Boobie), about the marriages, the children, etc. I told her I wasn’t sure. I thought that it meant we would get back together. Then I told her it might mean that we don’t spend this lifetime together at all, I wasn’t sure.
After now, almost eight years since TMG(Boobie) and I parted ways, I think my second thought was probably the most true.
Now is when this kind of gets interesting.
In the situations with both TMG(Boobie) and Sweet Thing, we have this kind of 4/10 karma, which is the kind that usually means deep lessons have to be taught and learnt; it means that we have a hard road to travel if our free will takes us there. It’s the kind of karma that has deep implications.
In a recent divination, in came up that Sweet Thing was John in this other life I lived where he died and TMG(Boobie) and I lived a life together.
In the divination it was revealed that this life is an opportunity for he and I to graduate, to fulfil the karma we have generated with one another, give each other the kind of devotion we didn’t really get a chance to in past lives, either because he died long before me, or I died long before him. This is a chance for us to graduate to a new level in this lifetime. We get to build wealth and fortune together, we get to spend some time healing wounds inflicted and to build experience and healing karma.
That’s both an jaw dropping kind of responsibility. I mean, how do you choose to love someone unconditionally and mean it through and through? I mean, life is fucked up and shit is fucked up and good people do fucked up shit. I know. You know that shit that went down with TMG(Boobie) was the serious, serious, deeply inflicted, heart rending kind of torturous shit you cannot invent. That’s the kind of thing that can only happen in real life and art can then imitate.
You know, although TMG(Boobie) and I had spent a lifetime loving one another before, we’ve spent most of our adult lifetime’s loving each other but separated by circumstance and choice.
Maybe Sweet Thing and I can be brave enough to make different choices. I have told him that you know the Universe doesn’t idly bend to allow people like he and I an opportunity to fall in love. It does so consciously and methodically because we arrange it in such a way.
I mean, I believe what I believe about the movements in my life. This experience I am relating, actually relates to the shit that is going on in my life. I am not talking about some abstract shit that means nothing to me in the long run, this is actual personally observed phenomena.
Yeah, that’s the way I like it…… I mystic child of the Universe, walk with heart open and soul open a reed in the wind.