A Diary - Spiritual Insights
Day 1 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
There are those among us who, by means of hook or crook, determine the outcome of various areas of life. By this I mean there are those who ‘force’ outcomes depending upon their own particular fashion of thinking; that they do.
We have, at our disposal, various ways to facilitate information distribution, have we not? Indeed we have. There are many means to fulfill this need.
There are many who utilise these media distribution forms with the result that many are influenced by their opinions. This can be all well and good providing that the opinions are safe for human consumption, so to speak.
We all know of the types who try to push their products, their opinions and such down our throats. I do not want to be seen as one of these. I have an opinion, yes; however, I do not care one iota whether or not you agree or disagree. This is my opinion and all I am doing is endeavouring to share it.
I have no particular religious bias. I am not of any particular persuasion. My upbringing kept me from entering church grounds, so to speak. My father had been a practising Catholic (raised as such) and walked away from the church when a young man. He brought up his children relatively free from any church dogma, which allowed me to investigate all religions when it came time for me to do so. I have researched various religious beliefs and find it difficult to associate with the myths that I find within most. This is not to say that I do not have any beliefs, indeed not. However, it matters little the beliefs we hold, I believe. What does matter is the way in which we pursue life; the qualities with which we do this; and the love we engender along the way.
Therefore, this will be the first in a quest to appreciate the journey upon which I am travelling. I am to create a diary of my experiences. May you all enjoy the ride…….
Day 2 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
Today I am a woman of fairly consistent understandings apropos to religion and dogma; however, that was not how it all began.
I had yearnings as a young child; yearnings to be with those I loved. And who did I love? I loved those who were given to me as being loving. And who were they? They were the unknown. I had a knowing somewhere deep within that somewhere there were unknowns who were capable of loving me; but, where were they? I searched in various places; places where a young girl ought not to search. I failed to find love. I searched for it in the faces of children at school. I searched for it within my small circle of acquaintances (those other young girls who lived in my street). I didn't find love. It wasn't within my home; well, not for me at least. I searched high and low, and love couldn’t be found.
Eventually, I didn't search for love anymore; it was too distasteful not finding it. I began to assume that it didn't exist; well, not for me; no, not for me. I found others whose lives were About Aging Backwards as empty as mine however, no love.
More and more I felt that life was a nonsense. It hurt; it wasn't meant to hurt; was it?
I found a little comfort when in my early teenage years. She said, "Come to our church, we have the Girl's Life Brigade there.” This interested and scared me. I didn't have anything to wear. It was neither approved by my parents nor disapproved; they weren't really able to define such things; I believe that they were like flotsam and jetsam; they floated with the tide. The green coat I wore over my little cotton dress belied the heat of the day. I couldn't go without the coat; my clothes were an embarrassment. Three weeks of wearing the green coat in the small Church was enough. The minister, Mr Bird, seemed frail and without love. The Girl's Life Brigade was too costly for my parents, and so ended my brief visit. I had met a number of children; a 'fellowship' they called it. I went on one fellowship outing.
He was a very tall boy; smitten by the new arrival. He offered me his hand as we walked up the stream. I didn't need it; I was an athletic young girl. He asked me to meet with him at the roller skate rink. We met. He invited me to a concert at the Sydney Stadium. We saw Dusty Springfield, Gerry & The Pacemakers and many other artists that I had heard on the radio. It was quite an eventful outing. He kept wetting his lips with his tongue. I thought he wanted to kiss me and wished that he would get on with it so that I could refuse. Instead he kept wetting his lips making me more and more uncomfortable; however, I loved the concert. I didn't see him again.
It was up to me to get things done; I couldn't depend on anyone. My father was a violent man. He was hurting inside. I tried to help him. I counselled him whilst the others stayed well away. They would all go into the lounge room, far away from his passion. He would hit my knuckles at the dinner table. You weren't supposed to talk, no, he had to watch the news at that time. He was the only one who could see the television through the lounge room door opening. Don't make a noise, or laugh, or even look sideways, especially me. He had taken to disliking me. I had passed the 'useful' stage. His judo club relied on me to assist those boys who came to learn. Time passed, and I passed from the doors of the judo club and, as I did, our shallow meeting passed too. Now that I was older, coming into my own, I no longer held value.
He didn't like my first lover. He came from a very well to do home in a very plush suburb. His family were 'a cut above the rest'. When he had the accident he applied for a job at my lover's father's business. When he discovered this, he came down on me harder than before. He was humiliated; a most immodest man. His pride prevented him from securing a job because his arrogance prevented him from accepting the fact that my lover's father would be his boss.
In the heat of his temper he cut my dressing gown with the knife. He'd rammed me up against the wall in a frenzied attempt to hurt me. He grabbed for my dressing gown and sliced it open. This shocked him somewhat and as he stood there slightly stunned by his actions I ran into the bathroom; it was the only door with a key. I turned it as his fist pounded into the door causing it to break and splinter and moan and groan under his violent passion. I didn't dare leave 'till I knew that he'd calmed. I could hear mother speaking to him saying, "Charles, leave the girl alone."
The phone booth was just a little way from home. My dressing gown cut, my nerves a-jangling, I ran for the booth. My lover answered. After speaking with his father his advice was, "Go to the Police station." His father didn't want him to get involved. I understood, even at sixteen years of age, I understood. He was a violent man.
Six years, on and off, we dated and enjoyed/needed/came together. His family, although wealthy, weren’t capable of giving him the love that he needed. We were good for each other. His father wanted him to go to England; partly because there was the faint chance that we would marry; a fearful thought for a father who wanted better for his son. Bestobells was a large English concern; he could get a good business grounding there and return with a more valuable offering. My lover’s father’s business was sold to Bestobells, my lover travelled to England and I fell pregnant to a married man.
I didn’t know that he was married. After 3 months he’d asked my father for my hand in marriage; my father agreed. He agreed because Daniel was wealthy. He owned a business; a very lucrative business. He owned a big car, spent money on restaurants, outings, plane trips, fun. He seemed a good catch until.
I cried; he said. “Pregnant, oh no.” Then the truth; married with two children. I’d wondered why he had never taken me home. He was married to his work, he said. He looked after me during the pregnancy. He bought me a car and put me up in a unit not far from my home. Dwayne was born and he was there at the hospital asking me to marry him. How could I marry him? He was a liar, an adulterer, an unworthy piece of _ _ _ _. I was so angry.
I heard recently on the news that the Royal Paddington Hospital for women in Sydney had made an apology to all the women (unmarried women) who had given birth to their babies whilst in their care during the 1940’s through to the 1980’s. They admitted to the openly dishonest way that the Benevolent Society (through whom adoptions were carried out within the hospital) had manipulated young mothers to release their children under the hope that their infants would be ‘better off’’. Six weeks they ‘counselled’ me. Six weeks I endured their scathing attacks upon my person. How could I bring up a child on my own? Why didn’t I see the effort required in raising a son? What did I have to offer him? They could give him everything that he could possibly need. They were coming down in a plane from Queensland every weekend just to see him. They could offer him a life of hope. What did I have to offer? He was a premie baby; needed to stay in hospital they said. Six weeks was the time needed before, as the natural mother, my time to change my mind About Aging Backwards the adoption would cease. On that day I’d been severely brow beaten enough to agree. I had nothing to offer; let them take him and give him all the things that I wanted him to have.
She was born 18 months later. My lovely little daughter was mine; no-one could take her from me. Her father, my husband, was a drunk. My mother adored him. She liked a drink. They would whisper in front of me. I would be stuck talking with my father; life just wasn’t fair. I did however, have a beautiful little girl. We spent time together; she and I. I loved her, and for the first time in my life I understood 'being loved'. She loved me. She loved me and I loved her.
He didn’t last long. Sclerosis of the liver and other problems caused his death in 2000. We had long parted. Twelve years with this man was enough to make me very ill. He too was a violent man; though his violence was purely emotional.
The next nine years with my daughter were heavenly; so much happened over that period of time to give me hope that life, although it remained very hard, was at least ‘softened’ by our love for each other.
And so begins the ‘real’ part of my journey. The time spent with love as my guide.
Day 3 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
She was 10 when we parted. A beautiful child; I adored her. During my marriage to her father I had fallen into the habit of taking a drink with him; this ‘kept him home’. I couldn’t ever drink; I was a one drink wonder. I remember my first drink at the age of 16. It was a Pimms. I can remember standing on the stairs at my first lover’s home; we were neither up nor down. I can remember taking a drink and enjoying the taste. I can’t remember any of the evening. He said that I'd thoroughly enjoyed myself and was happily telling jokes and, in general, chatting to all and sundry. I was aghast; I couldn’t remember any of it, and, I didn’t ‘know’ any jokes, so how had I managed to be entertaining? He assured me that it had happened; how could I disbelieve; he was an honest young man.
However, this wasn’t the case now; now I was married to a man who wanted to be down the hotel drinking the hours away; and the money. I agreed to have a drink with him if he would come straight home from work; he agreed. What a silly thing that was. I can’t drink; well not to the extent that I drank with him. So here I was giving him an ultimatum; either you give up the drink or we part. For 3 months he attended Alcoholics Anonymous. I also attended a few meetings with him and found myself identifying with much of what I heard. Could I too have a drinking problem? It certainly was causing me to have blackouts; times when I couldn’t remember what I’d done. It certainly became a habit. It had certainly made me very ill. Could it be? Could it really be? I attended Alanon; a fellowship for those affected by the drinker. However, I identified more with the A.A. members than I did with the Alanon members. I began to go to the A.A. meetings as well.
He gave up on the fellowship and found solace in the company of others who preferred to drink. We parted; such a relief. I attended A.A. meetings for 6 years whilst I got my life ‘back in order’. I developed a strong respect for alcohol over that period of time however, I couldn’t agree with many of the philosophies. Increasingly I found myself objecting to remarks About Aging Backwards the lack of personal responsibility. I felt deeply responsible for all of my actions. I couldn’t blame them on a substance that I’d willingly put inside my body.
Eventually I left. I’d had a great grounding in life by my time spent in the fellowship. I’d met some incredible people; had learned to speak in public; had gained enormous insight into myself and was so appreciative of the ways in which I’d been able to make amends to those I’d harmed. This was so important to me. I took absolute responsibility for all of my actions and was so very thorough in my amends making.
During this time of soul searching I’d discovered a deep love for a God of my understanding. I attended a number of churches; investigated many of the popular religions including the eastern religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism and found many ideals that favoured living a decent, constructive way of life. I took to many religious philosophies with great fervour. There was always one problem though; the individuals within the organisations left me somewhat cold. You see; I can read people very well. Many of the people I came across in these organisations, I found, to be so hypocritical, they caused me to doubt the validity of the teachings. However, I enjoyed this time and it was during this time that I began to meditate. A.A. had been the beginning of this wonderful form of mind relaxant. It was during the meetings that I would spend much of the time devoted to silence. I had always enjoyed silence and during those moments, sitting in the meetings, I allowed my mind to rest.
When eventually I left the fellowship I felt inspired to pass on the benefits that I’d found in my meditations. I advertised and it wasn’t long before a number of individuals answered and were coming into my home each week to enjoy the peace and serenity that was meditation.
This began in 1989. It is hard to recall just how it happened, however a voice spoke to me. The voice (within my mind) said that it was my great uncle Arthur. I hadn’t heard my parents speak of someone by this name. He said that I was to ask my mother for confirmation. I did, and she confirmed that there had been a man, by that name, in the family tree.
And so it began. Uncle Arthur began to counsel me. He offered advice and brought me bunches of flowers; yes, I was also beginning to see things that I’d never seen before; spiritual things; spirit, and things that amazed me.
It had first happened when I was nine. Lying in bed, drifting off to sleep, he appeared. He was wearing a blue t-shirt. In the dark of the night I thought it was odd that I could see his t-shirt. The energy was non-threatening however; when he bent to kiss me I panicked and ran into my parent’s bedroom. It was late; I was a late night owl. I awoke them and hurriedly told my mother what had happened. I was taking quite a risk; we weren’t allowed in my parent’s bedroom. She turned to my father and said, “She has seen him, Charles.” Yes, I understood so many things in that moment. She had spoken About Aging Backwards dreams that she’d had; they’d come true. She hadn’t ever spoken About Aging Backwards ghosts however, now I knew that she had seen the blue t-shirted man, and I felt comforted.
Day 4 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
Jean, my mother, was suppressed terribly by the man she married, my father. She hated being married to this man however; she made the best of it. I can’t say that I ever really understood Jean. She was incredibly unhappy and yet she remained in the situation that brought her such grief. Life was certainly very different for her generation. There was really no where for women in her position to go. They just ‘put up’ with whatever conditions prevailed.
I knew the ugly side to Jean. She gave me her ugly side. I saw her mothering side when she comforted my older sister. She had a great relationship with her. I was privy to her comforting words when my sister began menstruating. I stood outside our bedroom door and listened as Jean described how babies were born. I was so touched by this exchange. I could feel the fondness between them.
When my time came Jean said, “there are towels in the linen press”. What a difference. I can remember coming home from school with a packet of cigarettes in my school-bag. Some time before, the school had sent a letter home to my parents stating that I had been smoking in the toilets with a number of girls. This was untrue. My father was to go to the school to talk to the Principal. I was called out of my 9th grade class to go down to the Principal’s office. As I approached I heard my father’s raised voice. He was shouting profanities as loudly as he could. They came out of the office; both of them red faced. My father looked at me, and without a word, pushed me forward before him. We didn’t speak; this was my father’s way; one didn’t speak About Aging Backwards anything.
For the next year the Principal would ridicule me in public whenever the opportunity arose. I understood why and, because I didn’t have any friends to back me up, I would obediently do as he said; picking up all of the rubbish from the play areas, or whatever else he could do to try to humiliate me, as he had been humiliated by my father. Naturally, I never uttered a word of this to Charles; this would have been quite a mistake to do so.
Some time later I did start to smoke. I wasn’t inhaling; it was just a ruse. However, my mother had smelt the smoke on me and asked for a cigarette. I will never forget the look on her face. She hadn’t ever looked at me the way that she looked at my older sister; there was always a slight smile on her face in those moments. The look she gave me was always without warmth, without love. I opened my bag and offered her the packet. She took one for herself and one for me. We lit them and she remained icy cold. She did not take her eyes off me as I puffed upon the cigarette; very mindful that she was checking to see if I was inhaling. We finished the cigarettes; her with that same cold stare. We never spoke About Aging Backwards it again. This is a recurring theme; my parents didn’t ‘speak’ of things. It was as if they hadn’t happened.
She’d told us of the dreams that she’d had over her life. There had been two that were decidedly eerie. They had both come true. I didn’t really think About Aging Backwards it very much; I knew that she was somehow different.
Uncle Arthur spent some time with us; I say us, meaning my daughter and me. She (my daughter) had been a part of this adventure from the start. It wasn’t unusual for her to speak with Uncle Arthur. They conversed a little however; it wasn’t until Sister Henrietta came along that she really entered into another dimension of conversation. Sister Henrietta told us that she was a past life experience of mine. In other words; I had been Sister Henrietta in some past occasion. My daughter took to Sister like a bee to honey. I remember being somewhat jealous of this. Up until this time, I was her companion, her confidant, her friend. Now, Sister was entering this domain of mine and it hurt when she was able to offer her advice; advice that I couldn’t. To explain: I would speak the words that spirit spoke (some call it channelling). So, here was Sister impinging upon my territory as a mum. However, I soon learned that there were quite a number of areas where this was a boon. Indeed, there were many things, unbeknown to me, that were happening in this young girl’s life, I was just not privy to. Therefore, sometimes the things that they would converse About Aging Backwards were totally unknown by me. The advice, and sometimes the ‘shorthand’ that they would use whilst conversing, allowed me to appreciate that my daughter’s thoughts weren’t always voiced. However, Sister knew what she was thinking and what was happening within her life. Having a mentor like this was a great benefit for a young girl.
Sister remained with us for approximately 1 year. She then told us that another would be coming to replace her. I was lost for a while over this. I’d grown very fond of Sister and had, in time, overcome the jealousy. She had become an integral personality within our lives and I knew that I would surely miss her.
Day 5 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
He arrived in the name of Michael (or, Soul Friend). It was a little difficult allowing this energy to channel through me, as it were. Channelling Uncle Arthur and Sister Henrietta had been relatively easy; they were neither masculine nor feminine in feeling, however, Soul Friend’s energy was definitely masculine. His personality made me blush. I felt as though he took over my whole body. Uncle and Sister had felt as though they occupied my mind only; Soul Friend’s energy totally engaged all of my body. The result was a little disconcerting to be sure. He felt more like a lover than a friend.
Over time I got used to this all pervading energy. I learned to adore this man who brought such joy into my life. He presented as a man who performed on stage in William Shakespeare’s era. He wore very fancy clothes of vibrant colours and would swoop his feathered hat from his head down to the floor in a gesture bestowed upon a lady. He made me feel so beautiful. He uplifted my spirits as nobody had ever done. I felt so honoured to have his energy within me whenever he visited. And visit he did, quite often.
It wasn’t long before I longed for him to join me at circles or counselling sessions. I recall one session with a very lovely young woman who has since become a very valued artist in New York. The love that was engendered between the three of us was so very special. He told her that she would become a very famous artist commanding great adoration. This was always the case with Soul Friend; he wooed people with his gallantry and over riding love. He couldn’t be resisted.
I met Graham at a circle held by some people I’d met at a Church gathering. Spirit had told me that my next husband was on the horizon. I didn’t want a ‘next husband’. However, that night there he was. He was a very tall fellow with grey hair; he didn’t appeal to me at all. I didn’t appeal to him either; it was no secret that Graham preferred the younger women. However, as spirit had said, he would be my next husband and next husband he would eventually become.
We were really more like brother and sister (as a friend pointed out). We had a lot in common. He was a medium and a clairvoyant. We enjoyed all aspects of spiritual healing; he had great hands. People would love to have him place his hands upon them; the energy that could be felt was almost overwhelming. He could bring enormous heat or cold to the body, which soothed whatever problem presented.
My daughter had met her husband ‘to be’ and had moved in with him leaving me alone in our little unit. Graham then became a regular visitor and, before long, I too moved out of the unit and in with him. I didn’t want to leave my little unit. My daughter and I had been so very happy there; it was hard to leave all of those memories behind. However, life goes on and we must travel with it.
Like my first husband, Graham was also a wanderer. We moved to a little country town where we became the leaders of the local Spiritualist Church. We had been attending for a few months when the leaders of the Church informed us that they were About Aging Backwards to retire. They offered us the leadership and we agreed.
Soul Friend highlighted this time in my life. Graham and I were called upon to be the medium of the day at certain Spiritualist Churches and he, Soul Friend, presented through me with such great aplomb. How I loved this relationship; he was the lover I’d always longed for; the gallant champion of a man that I’d dreamed About Aging Backwards; a whimsical, fascinating lover of life that I’d imagined as being my real flesh and blood companion. He spoke with such great love for those to whom he offered his words.
During 1993 he wrote a little book through me About Aging Backwards ; it was titled ‘Know Thyself’. I had a small publishing done and still today have a number of copies. However, this was just the beginning. This little book opened my eyes to the vagrancies of the human mind; a long story to be told another day.
Day 6 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
Love is the only essence that lasts; all else pales into insignificance.
(This was the message that I began to receive. After the initial shock that I’d experienced, this thought remained.)
Know Thyself was the title of the little book channelled through me by Soul Friend. I can remember feeling very threatened by some of the contents; it seemed to be a direct insult. To explain:
It speaks of being an instrument; an instrument that can and does create headaches for those of us who are subject to them. One would think, considering my history that I would agree with such understandings. However, this was not the case. I defended the brain (the mind). I felt very disturbed by such accusations; after all, wasn’t that a direct insult being delivered? No one could possibly believe such a broad statement; could they?
Some time earlier I had agreed with spirit that I would represent their voice in whatever way I could to bring higher understandings to mankind. However; I thought that these ‘higher understandings’ were going to be speaking About Aging Backwards love and angels and harps and all things wonderful; not, what appeared to me, to be insults thrown hither and thither.
I have read many channelled writings and they have spoken in this way; why not me? But no; the writings that were presented before me, as I listened and dutifully typed, were no such thing. No; the writings were hypercritical of humans (well, of the mind of man) and I was the scribe… Aggggghhhhh I thought.
It took some good time before I was able to see, and appreciate the understandings without the knee jerk reaction. Know Thyself was written during 1993; it wasn’t until 2005 that more understandings were given to me; which rocked my little boat even harder.
Many things happened during that period of time.
We were the leaders of the Spiritualist Church in
Bowral; a beautiful town lush with greenery, and
countrified living at its best. The church had, in
times past, held little fetes and such to raise
money for its upkeep. We decided, not long after we
arrived, to present a Psychic Fair in the majestic
Craigieburn Resort (which was where Graham and I
married a short time later). The day was a very
pleasant one, sunshine and good feelings were the
flavour. We had a boon of visitors all enjoying the
stalls filled with crystals and jewellery and books
and various items of interest. My daughter, a lover
of young children, and her partner erected a tent
which became a crèche. Indeed, all and sundry found
something to favour their particular interest. There
were psychics (About Aging Backwards 30 in all) giving Thought 4 Today
Representing something that many cannot see or hear is indeed a daunting task. One is dealing with one’s own doubts. It is like being different in a sexual sense. We are what we are. We cannot be any other way. We must remain true to ourselves; for this is all we have. And this brings me to a point that I would like to make.
I have had many chapters in my life to date. When I was attending the Uniting Church, which I did for some 6 months during 1984, I identified with those who were attending (to a point). When I was in India attending Sai Baba’s ashram in 1995, I identified with those devotees attending (to a point). When I attended circles I identified with those attending (to a point). And this is the point. We shall never agree totally with the view point of others; there must always be slight differences of opinion, even within the same philosophy. This is, as I understand, the way that it is meant to be. In other words; there are About Aging Backwards as many opinions as there are people in the world; the best that we can hope for is a fine line of identification which leads to a greater degree of fellowship.
Day 7 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
Naturally, I am exaggerating when I say that Know Thyself contained only insulting words; no, this is far from the truth. Picking up the little book this morning and opening it at random I came across Chapter Four, Page 45.
We are What We See
Indeed, dear one, we are what we see. Whatever we perceive in others, is within you and me. Whenever we are startled by someone’s behaviour, it is because we understand it as being within our self. When indeed we can understand it, without the startled expression, it will be because we have overcome that particular condition, and will have compassion for our brother, our sister, who is still pained by what he sees. Yes, dear one, we shall see, what we see, through the eyes of our own experiences. What is right for us need not necessarily be that which is right for another. We can never judge another for that which he does, for in the experience is for him a wealth of learning and understanding. Would we take this away from him? I would think not. Would you, dear one, remove from your brother, or from your sister, that which will enable him to learn that which he does not know?
Good, then he shall not do this to you. Whatever we project, we attract.
It has been a wonderful time for me the past 15 years or so. Like everybody, I have had my ups and my downs.
As I mentioned earlier, Graham was a wanderer, just like my first husband; he couldn’t stay in one place very long. When the time came, after a year or so, we advised the congregation that we would be leaving. It was sad to say goodbye. We handed the keys over to a woman who had been a member of the church for many years. She wasn’t a medium however, she had the interests of the church at heart and we felt that it would be good left in her hands.
This wasn’t always the case though. She had been a sceptic and a very hard ‘nut to crack’. Like most organisations, when someone new enters the arena, the standing members can feel a little out of ease. Who is this new person? What direction do they want to go? Are they worthy? Do they have what it takes, etc., etc. She was no different. At our meditation/circles she would sit, arms folded, a non-expressive face, save for a narrowing of the eyes appearance. I knew that she had problems accepting much of what the church stood for and yet, there she was involved in all things spiritual. Well, all things, except perhaps faith.
One evening whilst channelling, Lord Jesus spoke. I had channelled Lord Jesus a number of times at other circles however, not at this circle. The love in the room was palpable. Everyone succumbed to the glorious feelings that engulfed us; everyone, except this woman. She remained totally untouched. She advised me, the following week, that she had spoken with a medium friend who had told her unequivocally that I was a fraud and a trickster. She was a very up-front, out-spoken woman and I asked her to hold her judgment for a while until she could judge for herself. This she did.
Her husband was a truckie, retired. They received the pension and he refused to give her any money for herself apart from the grocery and utility needs. I approached her one night and convinced her to go to the Social Security because I had been given the understanding that she could, with supporting evidence, be given a small amount of money over and above the amount that they were receiving as a couple. Even I doubted this however, she was in such a desperate state that she went along and was so grateful to me after receiving the small amount that had been spoken of. After this event I had yet another supporter who wouldn’t hear of any ill remarks being made of me. Even her demeanour changed at the circles. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave. She listened intently to all of the words spoken through me and became quite the defender. We, Graham and I, some years later paid a visit one Sunday when we were holidaying in the area. The church had moved to another location however, there she was sitting in the facilitator's chair singing her heart out. It was such a lovely thing to see a woman who ‘knew’ where she belonged.
Day 8 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
It is a difficult thing to write when you know that many will openly disagree with you. I am to write About Aging Backwards the brain, an instrument not capable of love; this is just an instrument that we utilise whilst in the flesh. Without guidance from the soul (or spirit; call it what you will) it will be without love; without kindness; without sincerity. In fact, it has been designed to cause tremendous harm not only to ourselves but also to others.
This was a very difficult thing for me to come to terms with all those years ago. I had not openly looked at the difficulties that it had brought upon me in an open, honest and common sense fashion. Now, with hindsight, I am rather floored by my lack of ability to see what, is now, 100% apparent. I was totally controlled by the drama of life; whether controlled by myself or others, I was indeed totally controlled by the brain. I only have to look at the evidence of my writings to see that this is an absolute certainty.
And yet; here I am writing About Aging Backwards a subject that I know will cause great consternation to some. This is unavoidable for, as I have been advised by The Collective Consciousness (my guidance) there are those who are programmed to agree with the writings and there are those who will disagree. Those who agree will, in most cases, not publicly consent however, those who are programmed to disagree will be quite vocal in their protestations. This I am prepared for and will take in my stride.
And so, on the one side I do not want to create drama, and on the other side of this shiny coin, what I am doing will create a drama for many; certainly a conundrum.
Graham and I stayed together for 8 years. During this time we always managed to stay connected, in one way or another to spiritual healing, development classes and Spiritualist Churches. However, our relationship was doomed from the beginning; we didn’t love each other; it was a bond of similarities more than anything. We remain friends today although I haven’t been able to contact him for a while. It has probably been About Aging Backwards 2 years since we last spoke.
We parted in 2003. It was in this year that I met and fell in love with the man that I share my life with today. This relationship is the first in my life where I have willingly committed myself. It is such a pleasure to know the love of a man and to return it openly and without reservations; he has my heart and I believe that I have his. It is very similar to the love that I felt with my daughter; I knew that she loved me and I was so appreciative and respectful of that love. It is such a privilege to be loved. It needs to be nurtured and protected and given a very high priority in life; there doesn’t seem to be anything that should be placed above it; at least, not in my life. Having lived for so many years without love makes having love such a tender thing, that to not view it as wondrous would be impossible for me.
It didn’t take long for me to realise that I needed to let this man know as much About Aging Backwards me as possible and very quickly; after all, I wasn’t the average person in the street. Up until this time in my life I was speaking to spirit; meaning, I was giving evidence of life after death. However, this was About Aging Backwards to change in a very dramatic way.
Usually, whenever I met someone and got to know them a little, I would generally be given information About Aging Backwards their dearly departed to convey to them however, this didn’t happen with Keith. I became quite confused over this and I remained confused for a number of months. During this time, and for the next couple of years, I began to lose interest in such things as communicating with spirit, development classes, circles, and going to the Spiritualist Church. I didn’t think too deeply About Aging Backwards it; I thought that it was because I was just caught up in this exciting new adventure of a new relationship. However, during 2005 came a most upsetting event that caused me a fair amount of grief.
I was given the inspiration (a term I use for my communication with The Collective Consciousness) to join an on-line forum. This was to prove to be a very taxing time in my life. I didn’t know it, at the time; however, The Collective Consciousness had plans, plans that involved surprising me. They introduced new understandings that brought great consternation to those who participated.
The new insights spoke of such things that rocked the very core of their appreciations of spiritual understanding. This will also be the case today for many however; I have agreed to play this role, and I cannot walk away from this work. I will speak more About Aging Backwards this as I continue to write About Aging Backwards myself, my life and my commitment to do as I have agreed to do; to bring the new understandings to the earth experience.
Day 9 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
Life after death. This implies that we are firstly a human being, does it not; indeed it does.
Many believe the following statement:
We are a human having an experience which, once ended, will become a spiritual experience and we will join the ranks of spirit beings.
There are those who believe that we are spirit beings who have experiences in the flesh in order to develop as spiritual beings.
Then there are a great many who believe that we are spiritual beings who continue to re-incarnate into a physical body; the kingdom of which is destined by how well or how badly we performed during our previous incarnation.
Then there are those who do not believe. For the most part their beliefs range from:
This experience that we are having is a singular experience which, once ended, will conclude our personality’s experience and we will return into the nothingness from which we came.
There are many and varied belief systems and each of us, within those varying beliefs, will have created our own personalised belief based upon the evidence of our own particular experience. This has the effect of creating over 6 billion beliefs upon the planet. No two will agree completely. However, this is to commence to change as of this, our time, upon the planet.
There are those who believe that theirs is the one and only truth.
I can remember thinking, (when suffering immensely the woes of human nature) that I could not wait for the experience to end so that I could return to the security of life as spirit. My personal belief, learned through my spiritual experiences, had me perfecting myself as a human in order for my soul to progress. All of my personal experiences verified this. I spoke to spirit; I saw spirit; spirit validated this belief. To think anything else would have been to contradict my own experiences; only a fool could do this. And this is so for each and every one of us: We are the sum total of all of our experiences. To say to any one of us that our belief system is not valid is to cut off an arm. This is as much a part of us as the kitchen sink is to the kitchen.
There are a multitude who have experiences that are foreign to our own. Does this make them liars? Does this make them mentally ill? Does this make them stupid or naïve? Who are we to judge another’s experience? Who are we to judge another’s life choices? Who are we to think that ours is the one and only truth? What we are doing in this case is feeling threatened by another’s viewpoint. This viewpoint is based upon fact for the individual experiencing. He who sees grey men lurking in society who are silently infiltrating in order to, one day, be the victors of an intelligence war have as much validity in their experience as the man who believes that we become fodder for the worms. He who has been taken into a spacecraft and has been prodded and poked by so-called aliens has the validity of his own experience as proof. Who are we to say that this did not happen? To those whose beliefs run into witchcraft, fairies, goblins, middle earth creatures have the same validity of experience as our own. Who are we to negate their experiences? Their experiences are as valid as any of our own.
Every man’s experience is so real, that to expect him to change his perceptions is to say to a blind man that he isn’t blind and is being rather naughty not to see. Each of us is who we are because of our particular set of experiences. Those of us who bond together share similarities of experience whether that is in the physical sense, emotional, mental or spiritual. Those with whom we do not bond are those whose experiences are so removed from our own that we cannot believe that their experience is valid. And this reaction is quite rational; and yet, how can we all be right?
We all can’t be right, and none of us are.
These experiences are just that. They are an experience that we are all sharing upon a vast playground of illusion. Each one of us is having an experience in, so-called, matter. We are not human, as such. We are not spirit, as such. When we can, at least, appreciate that amongst all of the (over) 6 billion sharing this experience in matter there is only one true bond, the bond of similarity, then we can begin to accept the possibility of a much larger plan encompassing us all.
Day 10 - A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences
It was during the time that I was posting on the forum that the shock was delivered. As I have mentioned, I had an extremely close and affectionate relationship with Soul Friend that had lasted for over a decade. Entering the forum with this relationship by my side, so to speak, gave me enormous strength of conviction to announce myself as a medium. However, during the experience The Collective Consciousness announced their presence and made me aware that Soul Friend had been a personality that they had used to give me the experience that many have today. There are many mediums who, like me, have and continue to experience a connection with a particular guide or guides. In order for me to appreciate this scenario I was given a similar experience. This has happened in a variety of arenas in my life, i.e., having experiences in order that I appreciate those being had by others. Some of these experiences have been rather interesting. I hope to write About Aging Backwards them as I go forward. I am being inspired to write About Aging Backwards one now.
In order that I understand the concept of fear due to a medical problem, The C.C. gave me the experience of M.S. (multiple sclerosis). It was during my first year of marriage to Graham during 1995. Just after Know Thyself had been written and a move further inland to the Southern Highlands I began to lose feeling in my legs. I was facilitating meditation/circles during this time, leading the Spiritualist Church and counselling. During these moments I was given the use of my legs in order to perform whatever was necessary. When these functions were fulfilled however, I would return to the numbness and incapacitation. To ensure that I understood the depth of the grief, pain, sorrow, sadness, etc., of those suffering this and other such conditions, I was given to understand that I would be in a wheelchair within 3 years and that I would die shortly thereafter. This, as I understood later, was an absolute necessity in order that I truly appreciate such a disorder and the incredible depth of the emotions involved.
During this period, which lasted 6 months, I was bedridden most of the time. I had numbness in my legs and sometimes in my hips, arms, hands and whole body at times. It was a most debilitating physical experience and a period of such heart breaking mental and emotional seesawing between being strong for those around me and breaking down within myself to depths of great sorrow. There were also moments of enormous brain fog. I would go into my kitchen and not know where the dinner plates were stored or which cupboard held the salt and pepper. This was a very scary thing to experience; one moment having complete appreciation of one’s physical surroundings only to feel like a stranger in a strange house the next.
I had completely accepted that I was to die within a few short years, and told everyone within my close circle. This, they too accepted, the evidence was undeniable; I was growing weaker as each day went by.
I meditated a lot during this period of time; it helped to keep me calm. During one meditation Sai Baba’s boys spoke to me saying that I was to visit him. I was rather annoyed by their booming voices invading my peace with what I perceived to be their ‘bossy’ tones. They said that I could be healed if I travelled to see God in his ashram. I told them that I was quite prepared to die, thank you very much.
This was not my first introduction to Sai Baba. During those years, which my daughter and I shared together in the little unit, Sai Baba had materialised in the lounge room. He didn’t speak. I told him, telepathically, that Lord Jesus was my master to which he smiled, bowed and dematerialised. Now, some few years later, here were his boys speaking to me in my meditation. I told them that I would consider their invitation and left it at that. However, in my next meditation Sai Baba himself appeared (he did not materialise this time). He took me on what I called, in those days, a spirit journey. One moment I was in my home; the next I was in India being shown his elephants, hospital, ashram and such. I liked him almost instantly. His personality I found to be so cheeky; he made me feel so happy to be in his presence. His demeanour was refreshingly modest and humble yet with a sparkle that I couldn’t resist.
He visited with me like this for a few weeks and I planned the trip to India.
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