Isle of Sky
1812
This is my very first past life regression. It will be a day of surprises and learning about the past and myself. It all began months ahead of time. I was in a blind panic about my two boys, and I was furious with other family members. So, let me tell you what was happening.
Over the course of several months, I started having a panic attack regarding where my boys were located during any moment of the day. I have two boys that are 17 months apart, to the day apart. At this time of my life, one boy was about five and a half and the other one was about 7.
I was generally feeling uneasy whenever they were not around me, but it all came to a head one night my parents invited them out to the fair for an evening of games, rides and fun. It should have been like any other normal night, but this night would be different.
We didn’t have cell phones at that time; this is back in the 90s.
As soon as they left and they had been gone for maybe half an hour or so, I panicked that my boys were not home, and I didn’t know where they were at. It was the first time that I had an actual fully blown panic attack. My palms were sweaty. I had creepy crawlies all over me. I couldn’t think straight, and I didn’t know what was happening to me. These were brand new feelings and emotions, which were out of control.
Looking back, it was such a strange experience because they were with people that I totally trusted, my parents, who live next door. I knew the boys were having a really great time and had no idea what was going on inside of my head.
The only thing that I could do was wait for their return and it felt like an eternity, as I paced around me bedroom, as those next few hours dragged on. Nothing I did resolved my panic. It was still going at full force when the doorbell range and they arrived back home again. After they returned I was so elated to see them you would have thought that I had won the lottery! The emotional release was huge, and I was exhausted.
The following day when I sent them to school the panic began to set in as the school bus drove away. Oh no! my mouth was becoming dry, my palms started sweating, my mind started to swirl. I had to stop them from getting harmed and this panic attack began to overwhelm me as the school bus got to the end of the road and turned towards the school, leaving my sight of vision.
I ran to my kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, some snacks, plus a book to read. I got in my car, and I drove down to the boys’ school like a mad hatter ride as I raced to catch the bus. I parked down the street, and I watched the bus arrive. My boys were safe and sound, I took a deep breath as they jumped out of the bus and sprinted to their classes. They never saw me.
I sat there the entire day until they came out at the end of the day, got back in the bus and drove away. I quickly started my car and raced in a different direction home so that I could arrive before the bus, run in the house, set down my stuff, turn around and walk out the front door to greet them, just as if I had been there all day long.
This would be my new normal. Every day I would be in a panic when I was not with the boys, until I arrived back at my parking spot near the school. But being close to them was a mental bandage.
I needed help and I needed it fast. This is not a topic you can talk to just anyone about. I needed to find someone who would not think I was crazy. Initially I thought it was hormones and maybe I was pregnant, but that was not the case. I wanted this panic to go away, but no amount of wishing seemed to work.
My husband had no patience for it and wanted me to go to a psychiatrist, thinking that I was losing it. He really had no idea how bad the situation was because he didn’t know that I was staking out the school all day, and I had recently started waking up in the middle of the night to go check on them to make sure the boys were still breathing. I wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong that my husband was wrong. Something big was happening to me and I did not know what it meant or how to treat it.
But I was becoming very familiar with panic attacks. I knew how they felt when they were coming and how long the worst part would likely last. I looked at my sweaty palms. I looked at my fingers clenching and unclenching, it did nothing to relieve my fears, and always I could feel the creepy crawlies ran up and down my spine.
The depth that my mind was dragging me was scary, like a dark well. It was becoming very hard to pull myself out of the panic by dinner time each night. It was soon becoming impossible, and the attacks started to join together in one long attack that lasted for hours longer once I was home.
I had to admit that anything that I tried was not working. Time after time, I would try something new, only to end up waiting in front of the school again each day. Gloom descended over my life, and it became a series of ups and downs. I was told that I was clinically depressed by someone who said they were clinically depressed themselves.
I needed a support system that I did not have, someone to take me seriously, and to not just assume I was a nut case. I needed a diagnosis of sorts. Prayer did not work at all. In fact, no amount of prayer seemed to have any effect. I was becoming more and more alone, as my panic for my boys was growing each day. I soon began praying to God to keep my boys alive each day. It seemed like the only thing I could do, and since they did continue to live, it reinforced in my mind that prayer worked, at least for the boys, but me? I was still sinking.
One day, out of nowhere, I received a referral to a spiritual therapist. Her name was Dr. Kathryn Lehman. I looked at the phone for 2 days before I picked it up to dial her number. The anxiety problem had been going on for about two months with no end in sight. I thought I had nothing to lose, and I called her number to look for a holistic solution to my growing, out of control, problem.
As the phone rang, I tried to find the words to describe my problem as I prepared to leave a message for Kathryn. Finding just the right words was eluding me. I wanted to sound like I was in control of an out-of-control situation. The phone rang as I searched for words, but suddenly she answered the phone right away with a cheerful hello! I was relieved when she answered, but I was not in a happy mood, and from the sound of my voice, she knew I needed to see her asap.
“What is going on dear”, she calmly asked.
“Can I have your next appointment please”, I mumbled out. I didn’t bother to ask how long the session would be or how much it might cost. I didn’t really care; I just wanted an appointment quickly. I was praying that she would be the lifeline that I needed.
Her voice seemed to smile as she said, “I can see you tomorrow”.
“Good”, I thought, “I can last 24 hrs., I can make it”.
I jotted down the address which was 30 minutes or so away. I walked back into the family room and saw the boys outside playing a game. I have become so tired in the past few weeks. I wanted to take a nap so badly, but I didn’t dare take my attention off of them for a moment. Time was slowly passing by and tomorrow seemed like an eternity, the moments and hours drug by, when I finally got into bed late that night. As tired as I was, sleep did not come easy, and I tossed and turned most of the night.
As the sun rose across a pink sky, I had the unsettling feeling of foreboding. Today I would have to leave my parking spot by the school in order to go seek help. Brushing my hair, I looked at my weary face in the mirror. I felt older than I was. But definitely I was getting too old for this problem to be in my life. I had been saying “snap out of it girl”, for weeks, with no effect.
The sound of the bus brakes snapped me back to reality. It was time for the boys to head for school. I gave them each an unusually long hug goodbye as they left the house. They eagerly jumped onto the bus and ran down the aisle to join their friends. Fortunately, they had no idea of the turmoil that I was fighting with. They would have another day at school. But I needed to gather my wits and head to town for my appointment.
I was her first appointment for the day. I sat in the parking lot looking at the front door as I read her name. Dr. Kathryn Leeman had a PhD in metaphysical and holistic healing.
“I thought what have I gotten myself into?” I had no idea what today would bring. This was not your regular Dr., so likely I would not have a physical or medical history to deal with. I finally pulled myself out of the car, tried to have a good attitude and headed for the door. A smiling cheerful woman my age greeted me at the door and invited me in. I was openly nervous as I sat down in a big blue easy chair.
“what is going on? Tell me everything”, she said in voice that begged me to be totally honest and open.
I appreciated that she was good at listening, and she sat quietly as I shared the anxiety and panic of losing my two boys and how it altered my life in a very negative way. If I had my choice I would lock everyone inside and never let them out, ever.
She smiled, and said, “that is a bit extreme, but I understand you’re feeling. Would you be open to a past life regression? It is spiritual therapy”.
“Past life? Another life? A life different than this one? I mumbled out loud.
She gently smiled and said “yes”.
I was desperate enough to try anything. “Yes, I agree”.
Kathryn said, “I am going to guide you through a meditation, so lie back and relax. Take some deep breaths and follow my voice’.
I did as she asked and got comfortable in the big blue chair, which seemed to wrap its arms around me. I squeezed the chair arm and relaxed, closed my eyes and took several deep breaths.
“Relax your mind and let’s go to the time and place that you need to go to find help”, she said softly.
My mind soon began to drift, and I was moving. It felt like a dark, foggy night in my mind as we drifted and then we stopped.
I became aware that I was standing in front of a big wooden door that was slowly opening. I was nervous. This was my first official past life regression or experience. I blinked my eyes in anticipation of what was on the other side of the door. As it slowly opened in front of me, I found myself stepping into the doorway and as I did . . . it felt like I was putting on a different body. It was heavy, like my body was out of shape. I felt my sides and I was big. I let Kathryn know that I was standing in a door.
“Who are you?”, She asked.
I gave a little cough and then a big booming voice came out of me, “I am William”. It hurts to talk, as if the voice would rip my chest into 2 pieces.
“Where are you William”, she asked.
“Isle of Sky, 1812”. As I became this person, I could see through his eyes, as I looked around the room. But, it was hard to even understand myself, his accent was so heavy. I was a big man, a big barrel-chested Scotsman. I referred to myself as a Scot. But his use of words and accent were nearly impossible for me. I asked Kathryn what I should do.
“Please step out of his body and just tell me the story that you want to share”, she said.
So, I kind of stepped out and the information came flooding in.
My house. A cottage on a small hill outside of town.
My countryside. Scotland. Isle of Sky, he loved it all and was proud of his ancestry.
My brother George, we were twins. He felt like he was standing right there.
My wife. I blurted out “She cows me” and she makes me angry. I realized that she was small, but she was a bully, and she bullied him often and he referred to bullying as Cowing, like a dog would make a cow walk in a straight line for fear of getting a bite.
Boy can she bite with her sharp tongue. I saw her immediately, her angry face yelling up at me with her hands on her hips. I kept my hands in my pocket mostly. I tried to imagine that her words were like water, and I was a duck, so it would not sting so badly. She enjoyed it entirely too much and always need everything to be her way. I realized that he was so sad. No love here, but he was loyal to his boys.
My boys. They are in my mind’s eye, like shining stars. Standing there grinning ear to ear, with arms over each other’s shoulders. Rascals they are. My lovable, blessed rascals. He loves them and is protective of them. His wife often tries to manage the boys, but they are a challenge. It causes him to grin.
I, as myself, recognized the boys immediately. These two are my boys in my current life. I could feel the energy. I recognized them. But in my life the boys are one older and one younger, but in this life it is the opposite. So, my current youngest is the oldest in this life and vice versa. He gushes love and showers on the boys, which is something that I do with my own boys. Beautiful unconditional love.
I am drifting.
The next moment of focus I have moved forward in time by a few weeks, it is a dreary day, later afternoon.
I have just finished work. I do some sort of manual labor, maybe mining. I have tools, heavy gloves and work attire. An older big heavy brown leather jacket. I am walking home. I am physically exhausted. I don’t own a car or horse.
He is living a modest life, without many extras.
As I walk towards the edge of town headed home, I hear yelling and see people running past me in the same direction that I am going. My brother runs up from behind and hits me hard on the back, yelling run man! Your house is on fire! As he runs past.
My reaction is in slow motion. I yell meaningless words of panic that drole out of my mouth and are lost in the wind. I jog forward and join the crowd running past. I am in disbelief. It can’t be my house. What kind of a bad joke is this? This cannot be happening, and I shake my head. But, I continue jogging with the crowd and get to the end of the street to turn left, and there, on the small hill, is my house and it is in fact on fire. Black smoke billows upwards into the low clouds from the top of the house in the attic.
I throw everything down that I am carrying, take off my coat, throw it onto the ground, and I run as fast as I am physically able to for my size and age. I yell for everyone to come and help grab buckets. I am not a fast man, and today I am worse. My limbs don’t seem to want to go fast, like I am bogged down. But I ran up the road on the small hill to my house. My wife is inside, and I meet her as I run in the back door.
“Get out of the house”, I yell at her.
“Where are the boys?”, I demand.
“I don’t know”, she screams with a panicked look, waving her arms around.
As I enter the main room of the house we don’t have stoves or anything, we have a big fireplace called a hearth that we cook inside of. It is like a fireplace but big enough for me to walk into to cook different types of meat and food. It is talk and deep, like a giant fireplace. I expect that something big is burning in the hearth of the small house, but I realize that the hearth is not the source of the smoke.
The room is filling up with smoke from the opening in stairs that lead to the loft in the attic. It is billowing down in huge black clouds. I can hardly breathe. I put my arm over my nose and ran up the stairs. At the top step I run into a wall of fire and smoke, like a blast from a huge furnace, I am pushed back down the step. There is a loud crash as the main roof beam caves in, and I can see sky.
My brother is grabbing my arm, “William it is too late! Come with me! William!”
I push him off and would rather die. Just let me go. I push back up into the heat, my arms are singed, and I am calling out their names, over and over and over again. Silence. Black smoke, flames and silence. The sound of crackling wood fills my ears. I cannot move forward because I cannot hear or see anything, a huge burning beam has fallen across the floor. I blink my eyes, soot is covering my face, my two little hearts are gone. It is too late just like George said.
I sit down on the top step expecting the house to come down on me. I take a deep breath of smoke. I don’t care. This life is over for me. I am experiencing the heat of the fire and smoke, in a brief moment in time, I look around. But my brother, relatives and friends come and drag me outside. They sat me by my wife thinking that I would be looking for her. But he I am not. It is all her fault. I hate her. The sight of her makes me want to draw my sword and end it all. She had one job, and she has failed at it. One single job. I wail like an old dying hound dog, yelling into what seems like night because the smoke is so thick.
The house is going completely up in smoke and flames. I sit and watch as it shrinks down, lower and lower, through the night. Then it is only embers. Everything is gone. I own nothing but what is on my back. I slip into a catatonic state. I simply sit and stare at the pile. Days later I am in the same place, looking at the same thing, as if my presence will change something. As if I refuse to acknowledge what has happened, the truth will not be the truth.
Weeks have passed and I am still here. My brother brought me word that there is a ship leaving for the Americas in a few days. He has purchased passage on it for me and my wife. He thinks that if I do not leave I will simply die under the tree. I am refusing to eat or drink, and I am losing all my muscle tone and shrinking.
I look around and my shrew of a wife is right here, yelling at me that if I was home I could have saved them. Blaming me completely. Destroying whatever is left of my sanity. I continue to sit under this tree, for how long? I am actually not sure, but I am still here until the day that we need to board the ship to depart. My brother comes and helps me onto the ship. I stagger over to a railing, find a barrel and sit in this location for the duration of the voyage.
I am thinking with any luck we will sink to the bottom of the sea. I hug the rail to steady myself. My wife has gone below. I cannot form any meaningful thoughts or carry on a conversation. I am dead inside. I am vaguely aware that we arrive in America sometime later. I don’t remember the voyage. We have arrived in Newport News. It smells. It is a busy city. There are rats. The glimpse is of this life is over and the memory ends. Like turning off a TV. Blackness.
I fade back to myself. I sit quietly in the comfortable chair, becoming aware of my surroundings. The window. The wall. I can breathe easier now. The smoke is gone, I do not have his big barrel-chest and accent to deal with, so I can relax and my heartrate is returning to normal.
Kathryn asked, “What are you feeling?”
Immediately I respond, “I have to keep them alive”. From that moment, I knew that I would have to be very vigilant, and it would be my life’s mission.
My boys have not changed very much over time.
Daredevils. Motorcycles. Speed. Risk. Ambulance rides. LifeFlight rescues.
And Pyrotechnicians, fire-starters. They have always played with fire, fireworks, things that go boom.
I think that if I did not have this memory of the past I would not have been as vigilant and careful with the boys. I think I have told them to be careful ten thousand times in this life.
But, they are still with me, with families and kids.
I think that I likely will live longer because of them.
Kathryn asked, “what do you think of this new experience?”
I said, “is this how a past life memory feels?
She said, “Yes, it is. Let me ask you a few direct questions. The rule is to not edit the incoming information, just say what comes into your mind, ok?”
I shake my head yes.
She asked her first question, “Do you think this was this real?”
“Yes”, it immediately popped into my mind.
She asked, “Did this happen to you or to someone else? In other words, could it just be a dream?”
“Definitely real”, I responded.
“Why?” she asked.
I responded, “Because all my senses had an experience.
My eyes were burning from the smoke.
I could hear people yelling instructions around me.
I could feel the floor cracking under my feet.
I could feel the heat.
Adrenaline kept me from communicating with anyone, I sat stoic, staring at the pile of ashes.
I could barely catch my breath as myself, experiencing him.”
“How did it feel to be male?” Kathryn asked.
“I had to stop and think about that”, I thought.
It felt like me. I felt comfortable in that body. It didn’t feel foreign.
My emotions were so high, I thought I would have a heart attack.
“So, do you think it was a dream?”, she reiterated.
“No, I knew it wasn’t, not even a vivid dream, which I have had, but they are different, and I sat for several minutes, rethinking for the first time about the memory that I had just experienced. I was picking up subtle additions, the thickness of the smoke, the faces of different responders. The depth of rage on my wife’s face. How her mouth looked when she was yelling at me, as loudly as a human can yell. She never showed any compassion for me at all, only hate and blame.
My heart was broken into a million pieces, and it was hard to get beyond the feelings I was having. I kept circling around to process this situation of extreme loss. I could not image life without my boys. Was I to blame? was this a burden that I had to bear? Was this how men processed grief? I wasn’t home when this all started. How could I be the blame? I couldn’t breathe let alone get past this thought of blame.”
Does any of this make sense in your current life?
Gosh, it definitely did.
The feeling of loss was acute and familiar.
My boys.
The fear.
I asked if we could get rid of some of this fear. Knowing where it came from was great, but getting rid of it would be better.
Kathryn asked, “Do you still feel guilty because your wife accused you?”
“Yes, I do actually, that feeling does feel really real at this moment.”
“Let’s start by accepting that William didn’t kill anyone. He is not to blame.” Kathryn said.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
I felt his heartache. His loss was palpable.
Such a great burden to bear, when it was not his fault.
Kathryn asked, “can you forgive your wife?”
No, absolutely not.
Kathryn asked “Why?”
Because, well just because, I don’t know how to forgive her”.
Kathryn said, “Let’s just think of her and say that you forgive her. She doesn’t have to be here, she doesn’t have to know. Tell her spirit how you feel”.
I thought about her. Her angry face, but I also thought about a time when she was my joy and my heart, in the beginning. So long ago. I forgive you my dear, you are forgiven. I saw her in my mind, come over to me and wrap her arms around me. She felt warm and safe. I wanted the moment to last forever.
Kathryn asked, “can you forgive yourself, forgive William?”
I swallowed, “Yes, he was not to blame. He should not feel guilty”.
“Is there anything that you want to say to your boys?”
“Don’t leave me” immediately came to mind.
As if being abandon would be unbearable.
“Do you think you were abandoned by them, or do you think it was a careless accident.” She asked.
More tears. Tears that seemed to be attached to his very soul.
It was a careless accident. It is not my fault nor my wife’s fault.
Are you ready to forgive you both?
Yes, I am.
“We need to cancel their contracts to set everyone free”, Kathyrn says.
“Contracts? I ask through the fog of tears.”
“I know it is a lot, and I can explain in more in detail another time, but for now we need to set everyone free.
I slowly repeat what she is saying for each person, and I understand the point of what is happening. Then it is time to forgive myself. It feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off of my shoulders. I feel like I am standing taller.
I drive home, thinking of the past and realize that I am not thinking about the boys. My mind is not swirling around that I have lost them. They are where they are supposed to be.
A few days later Kathryn called to check on me and I was happy to report that over the days my symptoms have started to abate, and I am feeling, psychologically, more like a regular mom with normal mom fears. I am not there yet, but I can see it coming.
Kathryn asked, “So all in all, how did it feel to have my first past life regression”. She was thinking that it was my first virgin maiden voyage into time, but my mind was drawn further back into the distant past, where I experienced a memory included in this book called “Child of God”, and we will work on that another time.