TRAVELING BACK TO THE PAST
In the last decade , my Past Life Investigations have sent me twice on a Pilgrimage to France to visit the Somme Battlefields of WWI where I fought as an English Officer; the Poet Wilfred Owen whose very short Life [he was 25 years old when he died] still affects me today; and to those of WWII and the five beaches of Normandy - Juno, Gold, Sword, Omaha, Utah - the 50 mile stretch of coastline where 156,000 American, British and Canadian forces landed on D-Day in June 1944, and where 4,000 casualties resulted on that Day alone. From June 6th to August 21st, more than 2 million Allied troops landed in Northern France, with over 220,000 deaths, over 240,000 German losses and 200,000 Germans captured. Civilian losses were high, in the region of 20,000. Parts of the dunes of Juno Beach are fenced off to the public because they contain the Remains of Unknown Soldiers.
In Normandy, I visited two Cemeteries which, like all the other Ones, are full of meaning for me as I fought as an American Marine and as a German Cadet Soldier [multiple, contemporaneous lives are possible and I had a great many]: the German Military Cemetery in La Cambe, close to the American landing beach of Omaha, and over 15 miles north-west of Bayeux, with the Remains of over 21,000 Germans. In Colleville-sur-Mer, on the site of the former temporary battlefield Cemetery of Saint Laurent , I visited the American Cemetry and Memorial - an arch of colonnades with a 22-foot bronze statue - 'The Spirit of American Youth Rising from the Waves' - which stretches over 172 acres and with over 9,000 Graves. I could not get close to them, as I would have liked to. They are fenced off to the public and apparently tended only by American gardeners and staff who are regularly flown in from the US. In Arromanches Bay, I saw the remnants of what used to be the Mulberry Harbor, still an incredibly powerful sight. The weather was quite bad and my photographs are quite dark as a result.
I satisfied one of my life-long ambitions and visited the vast Cemetery of El Alamein in North Africa hoping to find the grave of a former Incarnation , and after searching without results, I discovered a Plaque on an inner Remembrance Wall dedicated to an RAF Pilot whose plane crashed in the desert and whose body was never found. I visited Egypt and more War Cemeteries; Krakow in Poland where I had lives as Senior Officers in the Army; and to other Eastern European Countries, including Concentration Camps - Theresienstadt Ghetto [Terizin] in northwestern Czechoslovakia; Bergen-Belsen, Sachsenhausen, in Germany, Auschwitz-Birkenau in Poland, and Westerbork, a Transit Camp for the Jews in the Netherlands, prior to their deportation to the Gas Chambers .
I also fulfilled a long-lasting longing and went to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation and the Black Hills in South Dakota, US, where I fought as an Oglala Chief, Sitting Bull, during the last Indian Wars - and paid my Respects to the Wounded Knee Cemetery. I was surprised at the size of the narrow, long, strip of earth . I expected it to be much bigger, but then, dead bodies [many of whom old men, women and children] thrown one on top of the other do not take up much space.
The Massacre was the culmination of Indian resistance to life in a Reservation and assimilation into White American lifestyle, culture, Christian beliefs, dress code, English language; and government exploitation of natural reserves on the Reservations. From the original 60 million acres of the Treaty of Fort Laramie in 1868 they had shrunk, by 1887, to a tiny 12.7 million. Without access to large hunting-ground areas, the Lakota [a proud People] relied for survival on rations from the government which were subsequently slashed in 1889, when combined with harsh winter conditions brought them to the verge of extinction. [britannica.com]
I shall not rest quiet
you may bury my body
in Sussex grass
you may bury my tongue
I shall not be there
I shall rise and pass
bury my heart
at Wounded Knee
Stephen Vincent Benet
I still get very emotional about this. It was not all that long ago. I saw this in the faces of some Native Americans I met, still scarred by the memory of these events which deprived them of their traditions, language, lifestyles, their identities and at first, even of their children. They are very spiritual people, not business people or farmers, their lives now devoid of meaning. Great poverty too. Alcoholism. It will take many more generations to get over it, although there are small signs of a recovery, albeit very slow.
I also visited the Little Big Horn Battleground where there is a Cemetery with the Remains of the US Army Soldiers who fought and died there, but I did not go there to pay my Respects, as I felt Sitting Bull's hostility when I surveyed it from higher grounds.
It was not all doom and gloom. I met wonderful people and spent a wonderful day at the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary in Hot Springs admiring the scenery and the Mustangs. What amazingly beautiful horses! I went on a safari on the plains where bison roam and got up close and personal and it was such an incredible experience! These most wonderful animals came so close to our Jeeps that I could have stroked their backs! They were so relaxed that I was not afraid. In one Indian Life I was stampeded on by bison wildly running away during a hunt. Crazy Horse told me I had a great Spiritual experience in that Life, but I only saw the end of it. I visited an amphitheater where huge numbers of bison bones were excavated, the result of Indian mass hunts. The animals were driven off a cliff, killed and butchered there and then, the meat cut and preserved, the pelts prepared for use. In a museum in the Black Hills, where 'Dances with Wolves' with Kevin Kostner was filmed places of amazing beauty, there is an embalmed bison: I stroked its fur and it was incredibly soft and beautiful to touch! I also saw a small frontier town, perfectly preserved and got a feeling of what the Wild West was like. I attended a typical cowboy-style musical in a large and very crowded hall, and had cowboy food.
I loved the ruggedness, the wild beauty of the Badlands, the dry heat, glorious sunshine and intense blue skies of Wall Drug in the desert - where I had an excellent [the best ever!] ice cream, though it was extremely good anywhere else. I loved Deadwood - former Sin City of the Wild, Wild West, its high street peppered, at one time, with brothels, one of which is now a very good restaurant - and the fantastic chocolates sold in its shops, I visited saloons once Calamity Jane's hangouts. She was not the wild beauty of her films. She drank one or two bottles of whiskey per day and, not surprisingly, she died in 1903 quite young, at the age of 51. She was banned from Deadwood a number of times. I visited No. 10 Saloon where Bill Hickok [Wild Bill] was shot and where his Spirit still lingers on - which I took home with me - a protective Presence still around me. I visited his grave [Calamity's is not far off] and enjoyed the great views around it.
I had a great time, great dinner and entertainment at a 2,000 seat Beer Hall in Berlin. I saw Egypt, the Valley of the Kings, tombs and temples, a few times, cruised the Nile and had the most amazing experiences of my life! So many other things I cannot remember, which made these trips so unforgettable.
All these places have a special place in my heart. Many more are in my Bucket List: touring the north of England, where I was born in 1512 as Katherine Parr who became the last, truly loved, wife of Henry VIII, who still visits me after all these centuries - 'I miss you, Kate'. The me who was Catherine is not in Spirit. He is right behind my shoulders as I write this. He still cares for me, as I do, we were happy together though he was an incredibly difficult man to live with, a control freak, neurotic, suspicious of everything and everybody, self-obsessed, ruthless, I could go on and on [sorry, Henry!]. He was not my Soulmate, though I was genuinely fond of him and was a very good wife. I gave him the emotional stability he craved for and never had before. I reunited his family, and in this way I helped Elizabeth, who became my step-daughter, admired me [as did Edward and Mary] and learnt a lot from me for later use when she was queen. Henry became a family man, albeit a very unusual one, and discovered a new side, new meaning to his life.
We were together for five years, and I became Queen Regent when Henry went to war with France in 1544, an occupation which I thoroughly enjoyed and for which I displayed special talents. A very able woman. I am very proud of Catherine, and there is still a lot of her in me today. She was very special. In the 1700s [or 1800s?] they dug her up and discovered she was untouched by decay: still in her clothes, skin and muscle. Unfortunately, the coffin was not sealed properly prior to re-burial and next time they dug her up her body had decomposed. Had this not happened she could have come down to us just as she was in life!
Another Incarnation, as Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson [1758-1805], fills me with resentment and dismay at the thought of the treatment, by the government and my family, of my partner and love of my life, Emma, who died in great poverty and exile.
In Yorkshire, many years ago I visited Haworth where I was born in 1816 as Charlotte Bronte, [who died at the age of 36, like Katherine, both looking for love and both disappointed], and the Parsonage and those tiny rooms so full of memories and children's dreams! I would love to see the great beauty and wilderness of the moors and experience that great feeling of freedom again.
London is very close to my heart, where I had a life, not long ago, as Alice, second daughter and third child of Queen Victoria, and later Grand Duchess of Hesse-Darmstadt. Victoria too, still visit me. I have discovered a tinge of tenderness in these visits, which I never saw when we were alive together. She still likes to control me, but there is unusual softness in her.
I also would like to visit Japan, where I had many important lives, which are embedded in my very yellow skin tone- some as Shogun, others as Samurai, and also some very high-placed Japanese women; more recently during WWII a very young life as a Kamikaze Pilot . I was only 18/19 years old and disappointed in love, the pity of it is that she never knew of this, I was too shy to tell her. Like the great medieval Italian Poet Dante Alighieri [d. 1321] and his great love Beatrice, who went to a very early death shortly after her marriage, and whose husband merrily remarried a year or so later, she never suspected what he felt about her, something which in later life he very greatly regretted.
I spent three weeks in Florence a few years ago and accidentally came upon a death mask of Dante. I was struck by the very fine features and great sensibility of his face, not beautiful, and actually quite small. In those days people were much smaller than us. I went into his home and the rooms were also very small. You could not put much furniture in them. Catherine Parr, Elizabeth, and the rest, were equally small, only Henry VIII was an exception, being over 6 ft tall.
I would love to see the Great Wall in China - where in Ancient Times I fought Mongol invasions as a Ruler. I remember running up and down the Wall on horseback among the bloodshed, the dead bodies, to check the archers' progress. Mongols as thick as flies at the foot of the Wall, ladders being put up, arrows covering the sky, the blowing of horns, cries, the clashing of arms!
Of course, there are countless other Lives which are less spectacular than these, more ordinary, many blighted by poverty, many in Religious Orders, some were happy, some were not. These Incarnations, like an actor on the world's stage who struts his stuff an hour or two and then is gone [thank you, Shakespeare] make me wonder at the meaning of nationality, cultural and religious beliefs, which divide people so much. They are the universality, the mysterious beauty and complexity of the many Spiritual layers of Reality which surround us all and of which I have been allowed, and privileged, to catch a glimpse - also of my lives before earth, eons ago, on other galaxies and planets, where it all began. One of these lives was on a planet which looked exactly like Crypton in the first Superman film, with the child Superman and his parents deciding to send him to earth to avoid death on their disintegrating planet. I was standing on a rock, or something like it, with a male companion, wearing robes of a particularly beautiful shade of blue and we were extremely tall.
In a much earlier one, I was a female humanoid of the same height as I am now, of good proportions, and much better looking than the ETs they call 'greys'. It is unlikely that I came here by myself - so there must be many others on this Planet who came from Out There.
These Beings communicate telepathically. I accidentally sent a cry for help out into the Universe, and saw it reverberating in space, a couple of years ago, when I was particularly distressed about something, and within seconds, to my surprise this Person materialized in front of me, as if in a bubble and only his upper chest. He was of a kind I have never seen before, his head like a long-life light bulb, round at the top and narrow at the bottom where the chin was, eager to help and I detected a smile in his eyes. I talked to him for quite a while and he listened extremely carefully, but do not think he understood a word of what I said, and then I gave up. He followed me, as I travelled on the tube to a meeting where other mediums actually saw him and was with us for over one hour. I am more careful now to call out for help, because I do not know what else might come through!
As an Advanced Trance Medium, I have been channeling very highly developed Spiritual Beings [eleven of them on one occasion] who look after the Laws of the Universe. and who were also talking about Roswell, in the US, which they described as a 'mistake'. They found it very difficult to lower their extremely high speed frequencies to mine, they could have shattered me. In the end, they managed to do so and came through so low that I spoke in a whisper.
However, being able to channel people from other Galaxies, deep into the vastness of Space, is an extreme form of Trance mediumship which can be very dangerous as negative Space Entities can intrude and endanger life, as it happened to me. On one occasion, as I ended a channeling session, I saw this big Thing, in the shape of a Cancer cell, black with very long sprawling legs, enter my throat - the 'voice box' - and settle there. It kept growing and growing, despite many healing sessions, and there was a danger it could spread to the rest of the body. Luckily, that did not happen, although it created a lot of problems, mainly difficulty in breathing and swallowing.
For three years the Angel of Death was breathing down my neck, and I began to think I would not make it, when I was inspired, quite recently and after a very long time I did so, to go on a Shamanic Journey and two Spirit Guides came to my rescue. I asked them to remove this Thing which was endangering my life and they did! When they left, I thought there was only half of me: they had removed so much, I was half the size I was before. Now, I do not do this form of channeling any more.
About the Angel of Death and the common perception of Him as the Grim Reaper, the Skull in a black Cape, the Skull and two crossed Bones for danger. These reflect people's fears of the un-known, of pain. My knowledge of Past Lives [and Deaths] has changed this.
When I have been very ill He has been around me, and even when not ill. On one occasion, about three years ago, He came very close to me [the Skull in a Cape] and I sensed curiosity. 'Have you come to take me?' I asked telepathically and He said 'No, are you not afraid of me?' He was puzzled.
I told Him that I knew He was very beautiful, that he should not adopt people's imagery of him, of the way they thought He looked. I asked Him many times to reveal Himself as He really was, and finally convinced Him to do so. I was totally unprepared for what happened next. He slowly stepped out of this Cape, very bashful, looking down, and I saw this beautiful, young Man [about 30 years old] with very black hair, blacker than black, wearing a short white Greek tunic, tall and athletic. When I related this to an excellent Medium I knew she was very excited and said I had the 'Power of Transformation'.
Inevitably, many Lives mean many Deaths, but there is no drama here. This is reflected in the Gallery with many photos of War Cemeteries in France and Normandy, surrounded by beautiful countryside where people walk their dogs and life runs slow, so very different from the turmoil of June 1944. They are now Oases of Peace and Serenity, lost in distant fields amongst cabbages and wheatfields, horses and cows, sometimes surrounded by the back gardens of country homes with chicken pens, and small towns. And so are the thousands of graves of El Alamein and other Cemeteries in Egypt, buried in the dry, powdery, beautiful red soil, under glorious, very deep, blue, blue skies, scorching sun and blazing light, where there is an overwhelming feeling of Eternity and Continuity, of things Everlasting.