I close my eyes and try to drown out the sounds of the voices echoing the room. He whispers softly to deepen my breathing and relax. I let myself go and walk down ten steps and find a door. It is copper and very, very old. He tells me to enter and immediately, I am in a dark room. The floor is made of gravel and dirt and I feel trapped and do not like this place. I want to get out, but the man talking wants to keep me here, he wants more information. He tells me to look down and tell him what I am wearing. I see black boots and an old ripped dress. I want to leave; I want to leave this room that I feel I am going to stay in forever.
He tells me to breathe and asks me where my home is, he tells me to go to the place where I feel safe. I am here now, it is warm and a fire burns. This is where I would prefer to stay but I know I won’t be here for much longer. I know my children are somewhere near, I know we all eat together at the big brown wooden table that is in the centre of the room. My home is small and I know I am poor. I know that although outside the ground is dirty and the air is cold and grey, it will always be better than the place I do not want to go back to.
The man asks me what makes me happy and I say when I cook for my family, it gives me a sense of pride. But I also know it is getting harder to provide. I feel myself tearing between these two places until I am back in the dark room with walls that contain me. I don’t know who has brought me here but I know it is because I have done something wrong. I don’t think I have hurt anyone, I think it is because I wanted food for my family. I look down to my dirty dress, this image keep pulling me back. When I look down I feel shame, I feel embarrassed that I am here and can’t look after them all. He asks me if I think I will leave this room and I feel tears in my eyes. I don’t think I ever do.
He hands me something soft and says if this were the woman, if this was you, what would you do. I reply I would hug her, so I do. I am here hugging this small piece of material and he tells me it is ok and to let go of her and make peace with her guilt, she only wanted to provide and be loved. I feel a slow release of anxiety and I float up and beyond that other time till I am free.
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Yesterday I visited the Mind, Body, Spirit Festival at the exhibition centre. Some of you may be skeptics of it all, or maybe there are bits you find intriguing. I must say there is a lot that I find mind boggling and way out of my realm, but visiting places like these are such an interesting lesson in life and people. There are just so many different alternative therapies and ways of healing your inner and outer self that doesn’t mean visiting your local GP or shrink. The festival had personal trainers to tarot readers, tables covered in crystals and candles, even a stand where you could get an eyeball massage. It is obviously a huge industry and it is also good to know that people genuinely care about their wellbeing.
Lewy and I walked through the stands, buying some healing herbal tea, some black rice high in antioxidants and watched a seminar on finding your inner clairvoyant and meeting your spirit guide. I was really not sure about this one, but came away really enlightened-largely because Belinda Grace was just so intriguing and her no bullshit approach was really refreshing. Even for just learning to connect with your intuition that little bit more was worth it.
I have always been interested in reincarnation and thought in spirit of trying new things I would meet with Paul Williamson, past life therapist. What I described above was my first experience with learning about my past lives and to be honest I am still unsure how I really feel about it all. I mean if this was one of my lives, it brutally sucked. I was a woman living in maybe London or Paris or at the height of a depression, extremely lower class and pushed to the point of stealing food. Maybe it was my surroundings or because I have a cold, but wow, the image was so vivid that it has also shaken me. He could have also lead me to those images, I really don’t know. But I write this to make sense of it and maybe share some insight to others interested. I am all for living in the present and looking forward to the future, but sometimes looking back at the past can make you stop reoccurring mistakes or grievances. Either way, it would be interesting to revisit in a quiet room with no distractions to see what happens.
Who knows maybe because that possible life was bound with such hardship is a reason why I am just so damned grateful for this one. I guess you never really know what’s on the other side.
http://www.mbsfestival.com.au/index.htm
http://vimeo.com/43101922 (A talk on past life therapy with Paul Williamsom)
Destination: Some Place Else 