Here is a question for you. Where, on earth, might you find the greatest concentration of angels?
I know.
I have been there. Its in a hospital, in a room where birth and death collide.
Here is an image of my friend and fellow NILMDTS photographer Shannon holding baby John. (She's an angel too.)
Thanks for asking, emailing and wondering where I have been!
Here's the short version of the story: I got robbed.
I do not recommend it. My days have been filled with paperwork, tears, telephone calls, reports, and filling out form after form after form of information and, its not over yet. I am still replacing credit cards, checkbooks, telephones, letters, drivers license, insurance cards and the like. Other than some irreplaceable personal items, the worst part was the 23 checks in my checkbook. Each one of those checks is now a separate fraud case and has to be dealt with on my end. I never travel with my checkbook. I do not know what possessed me to put that in my purse at the last minute. I am never taking a checkbook out of the house again.
Here's the less short version of the story: It was my truck, parked on the beach, in BROAD DAYLIGHT with all kinds of people and other cars and trucks around. The thief smashed not one but two windows to pieces and absconded with my purse and my girlfriend's purse, both which were carefully hidden under the seats, in a locked vehicle with dark windows. We took a walk for a half hour or so and came back to broken glass and a ruined holiday.
After the police came and took a report ("Gee ma'am, I have been working this beach for more than 2 years. I have never had a vehicle window broken in...") I tried to think like the thief and see if I could find my discarded hand made angel tapestry bag, my pretty healing necklace or my books. Certainly, he could care less about that stuff, right? Maybe he tossed it into a dumpster? I didn't find it or any of my stuff, or my friend's, but I did drive straight for the first place he decided to use our credit cards.
The cashier and I figured out who he was. He was young, white, short, muscular, cowboy hat, had a beard and pony tail. He tried to buy 3 prepaid VISA cards with my friend's AmEx card and it was rejected. Here he is caught on the surveillance video.
Wow. What a great image, huh? They got one of his truck too. (Its even harder to see.)
I was excited to get the image though and called the police right away. Like they cared. I didn't have a name or his phone number or a license plate so, what? Did I think they were going to run this grainy shot on the local news? Petty thief? Like there is a 24/7 images of thieves channel. It would run non-stop. This punk is one of countless thieves staying busy and spending other people's money. He didn't have to worry very much about the camera or anything else.
On the bright side I was not hurt, and neither was my friend. I have been robbed before but its nothing I have gotten used to. I mean look at this guy. Its a bad photo, but he is young and strong...and he has to be a freakin coward and smash windows and steal purses?
He stole my journal too. Bet he laughed if he read it.
It was all about healing and angels.
My trip to the coast was delayed and ahem, much affected by the Hurricane named Dolly. I am even now in the lovely resort of Port Aransas, but have no internet connection. In Repose will resume posting sometime around the 8th of August. Thanks for stopping by.
(Continued from July 22)
I stood looking at the cave remembering. First the memories came as waves of feeling, then they were interspersed with details in the life. The angels still stood on both sides of me. Dolores asked if I wanted to go into the cave.
Nope. No, I really didn't want to go into the cave. The pit of my stomach turned cold. This cave was not a fun or lovely place. I was not sure I wanted to feel or remember anything about it. Dolores reminded me I was safe, Dolores persuaded me to go ahead and go inside. Ok, ok Dolores!
(The skill of the hypnotist really became apparent to me here. I would not have gone into the cave on my own at ALL. I would have just stood there or walked away.)
The angels walked with me to the opening but left after I went inside. It was a small cave, I had to duck to go in. It was pretty shallow inside as well, it certainly did not go far into the mountain. As I stood inside, looking around in the darkness I had bits of memory flit by like insects.
I remembered how I found the cave and how it became my home. It afforded me some measure of safety from the very largest of the animals that might want to make me their dinner, but only if I was on my guard. I would have to position myself just so, as to not be trapped and drug out as an easy dinner by a big cat or a bear. I had memories of snarls and paws reaching for my flesh while I cowered in terror.
And the thing about caves, well, every creature seems to want a cave. Every snake, wild dog and even other humans. It was only really my cave if I was standing in it. Leaving for any length of time was like setting out an invitation or a "for rent" sign.
Dolores asked me to look at my feet. Was I wearing shoes or clothes? What did I see? I answered HAIR. I was very hairy. I had big flat hairy red feet and lots of hair on my legs. I think I wore a modest animal skin covering around my waist, certainly nothing fancy. I was male. I have no idea how old I was, but I was not a child. I was not elderly. It seemed like I was a young man.
Dolores took me through a typical day and we found out about how hard it was to feed myself. We talked about how I found food, what I ate and what my daily life was like.
We discovered I was an outcast of sorts. I did not fit in with the other humans that lived nearby. For one thing I was "red". Most other humans were darker brown to black in coloring. This made me suspect from the start.
The other big reason I was shunned was because I annoyed the others by wanting to try things to help us survive that were "new". Anything "new", or any ideas offered that were unfamiliar created fear and mistrust amongst my kind. There was little cooperation or friendliness, I felt. Leadership was won by brute strength alone. I have no memory of anything one could term "love" from this lifetime.
Dolores soon took me to the day of my death. I was still quite young, I was still alone, and in the end I was ambushed and killed for being different.
How strange, you know? To have a memory like this. I have a clear vision of the minutes that led up to MY death. I had a few moments to comprehend what was about to occur. I was going to die. There was no question about it. There was no way out.
I was not so much afraid as I was sad. (Which is interesting, because, the only time in my current life I thought I was going to die was when I was pregnant and "coding" in the hospital. I was not afraid then either. I was just deeply sad.) I was not even angry with my killers. I can still see the leader's snarling face and the mob mentality of the group as they came at me with sharpened sticks and spears.
It was over pretty fast. I felt no pain. I left that body shortly before I died.
The interesting thing about the Cannon method, and what distinguishes it from other Past Life Regression methods is that after the death of the person, Dolores takes you to what she refers to as "the subconscious". I prefer the term collective unconscious (first coined by Jung) or even better, the Super Conscious.
Dolores asks then, the Super Conscious to assess this life and to answer questions, and to also assist in healing. Many, if not most, regressionists only perform half of their job, by Cannon's standards, by only asking these questions of the personality itself.
I will save sharing the second part of my regression for another time and perhaps another place. I will say the information gleaned from my Super Conscious was fascinating and life affirming and in the end, absolutely healing and life changing. I recommend the experience most highly!
(Now, who wants to be MY first client?)
Interesting. To say the very least.
I had been waiting on the recorded session to arrive in the mail before writing about it. I wanted to be accurate in my reporting, and with the cd, it will be easy to do so.
I eagerly tore open the envelope yesterday to find: a cassette tape. Seriously. I have nothing that even PLAYS a cassette tape. Not even my truck! I have been assured that I will get a cd (as will each of the other students in the class) but that will be a longer wait!
So what I will do is recap the highlights of my caveman life on another post, the ones I remember without the recording. This article will describe the session itself and what its like to be hypnotized.
Dolores Cannon has hypnotized more than a thousand people. She started way back in the 1960's and has perfected (and copyrighted!) a special technique to access the deep recesses of the human mind and, literally, beyond the human mind. She is the author of many books and is also considered the world's foremost authority on Nostradamus, having written three large volumes gleaned from the past life recollections of a man currently incarnated.
I have only read a couple of Dolores' books, Keepers of the Garden, and The Convoluted Universe, Book one. One glance at the matronly Mrs. Cannon and one might not imagine that it is likely your brain and entire sense of reality will be challenged if you attempt reading any of her books!
So back to the regression. After an interview session where she gets to know you and a bit about your life and your concerns, and what you might like to learn or heal in your life, she writes down the questions you have. Anyone I know would have a hundred questions but I basically had to keep the list very short, two to three inquiries at the most. She has you visit the restroom and prepare to visit, albeit briefly, another time and another place of the existance of your soul.
This was no small adventure I was about to embark on. I had awoken early and basically prayed to the angels for 4 hours about what was about to happen. I talked about and asked for many things. I asked to be able to heal from my constant chronic pain. I asked to have a clear notion about the purpose of my life. I asked the angels to stay with me while I explored, and I asked them to consider the others in the room who also might need healing.
Soon it was 9am, and class began with much anticipation. Dolores had a bed rolled into the conference room. She wanted her subject to be comfy, and to follow her regular MO in a regression session. Well that bed was the single most horrible, used up, beaten up jangle of springs and batting I have ever laid on in my life. I shudder to think about its history! The floor would easily have been more comfortable than this thing that could have doubled as a torture device to my chronic pain challenged body! But I valiantly attempted to make do. I shoved a couple of pillows under my back and rear end and tried to get comfortable.
Actually at this very moment, a student in the class came up to me and whispered something to me, so amazing and life changing I started to weep. That small moment, and that story is so big, I cannot begin to tell it right now, but by the end of this post I can tell you a tiny bit more about what she said.
So I closed my eyes and in a very very short amount of time, I was taken to "my beautiful place." I was aware of what was happening, but I was relaxing more and more and in her sing-song quiet and soothing voice, Dolores asked me questions. And I answered them. At first my nose itched, and my shoulders ached, but I didn't move at all. Except for crying and a couple of muscle spasms I did not move at all for 90 minutes.
My "beautiful place" is a place I go when I meditate, a place of healing. Its an open pavillion, with running water and flowers and all kinds of animals and angels. This is the place I started out in my mind. Dolores asked if anyone was with me and I said yes, Archangel Raphael was behind me, by my left shoulder. He was going to go with me on my regression.
Dolores suggested we sit on a cloud and head to a "relevant" life. I felt my elbows being supported by angels on either side and we floated down through the clouds and my feet touched the ground. I was standing maybe 20 yards from a large rock face of a hill. I described it as a rock "wall" to Dolores, but I did not mean anything built by humans. I was asked to look around and it took a while to see anything else, but I finally did. Towards the left was a small opening in the wall. Dolores asked if I wanted to explore inside. "I don't like caves" I think I said this more than once. Dolores persisted, and assured me I was safe, and I walked closer. I walked slowly and with every step closer to that dark small opening, I began to remember just exactly who I was, and what my life here was all about.
(To be continued tomorrow.)
(Oh, and what about what the lovely student whispered to me? She told me she saw angels, more angels than she had ever seen in any one place, and at any one time, and they were surrounding me, and reaching high into the heavens. How cool is that?)
July 13, 2008, I had a past life regression with the famous writer and regressionist, Dolores Cannon.
I was regressed in a classroom of 20 people who were there to learn the method to use in their own practice and explorations. I was also a student and I will also receive certification and 24 continuing education credit hours for completing the course. I hope to begin helping others in their quest for healing using this skill myself very soon.
I learned late yesterday that the cd recording of the session is "in the mail" and I should be receiving it any day.
My question for my regular readers is this: Would you all like a play-by-play of the event or a simple overview? The former would be very interesting for me to tackle as I would be examining the experience in depth piece by piece. Of course, this could take many posts and end up being quite the drawn-out experience. Perhaps such detail would bore you?
The latter idea, a simple overview, would likely be the best answer for "the masses" and their very short attention span, but I am not leaning toward that concept at the moment.
I'd love to know your thoughts, please comment, or those of you who shy from public voice, please email me. Inrepose@gmail.com
Metaphysics and Physics are closer than you think. Quantum mechanics is a physical science dealing with the behavior of matter and energy on the scale of atoms and subatomic particles and waves.
"Let me repeat: Observe a particle as a wave, and it is a wave. Observe it as matter, and it is matter. … Thus it is our point of view, the way we look at reality that makes reality the way it is."—Joachim-Ernst Berendt, Nada Brahma: The World is Sound
The past week has been a series of revelations to me and the underpinning lesson for me so far is best described not religiously or even metaphysically, but scientifically as Berendt does in the quote above. This way of thinking, for me, has moved from an interesting sounding theory to something useful and tangible in my present life.
So many friends and family are curious about what happened in my session with Dolores Cannon on Sunday when we did a past life regression. The event was wonderful, to be sure, but it was only a small part of the gifts and insights that have been bestowed upon me recently.
Dolores provides her clients and she will provide me too, an audio recording of the session, but I don't have that available yet. When I get my recording I plan on transcribing it so that I will better be able to share my adventure with my readers. I spent hours talking to my family about it last night, and I was only able to hit the highlights of all that has happened.
I will say that I was successfully regressed to some ancient past when I was occupying an early human form that we might describe as a caveman. I was a man, and there actually was a cave involved, too.
It was a short and most brutal existence.
I attended a one day workshop in Dallas for Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. There must have been forty photographers crammed into one very small room. There were some amazing stories being shared in that room.
One speaker was a doctor, a family medical therapist, who was showcasing some of the handmade items other volunteers make for photographers to use and provide as gifts for the babies and their 
families. Here is a cell phone photo I took of the little flannel pocket made for the tiniest angels photographed by NILMDTS. Even regular "premie" clothing tends to be too large to be used in some cases, and so, this soft little pocket was created to use as a prop in our shoots. I added my pen to show scale.
What we heard from the nurses is that many mothers carefully and lovingly put away these dresses, and blankets and pockets into memory boxes and, when the time is right and the need is there, they have something physical to hold and to grieve with. So,they not only have our photographs, but a tiny piece of clothing, or soft blanket, that actually belonged to their baby for a little while, to help them reconnect and remember, and heal.
So a few weeks ago I had a particularly bad pain day. I had to cancel a very important photo shoot, and I spent five full hours flat on my back unable to move or do anything much more than breathe. I decided to try something quite radical. I decided to pray. Really pray. I decided to pray and ask for guidance from whomever might consider to help me. I memorized the Hail Mary and said it probably 200 times. I was relentless in my prayer. I prayed not for a miracle cure, but simply, the knowledge of what I must do next, to move toward real healing. I named every angel, ascended master and saint that I had names for, and asked each one for help.
It was a non-denominational prayer for sure.
I went to bed that night exhausted from the pain, the immobility and the marathon prayer.
Then I woke up in the morning.
I absolutely had my answer. It came in three parts and it was as if the information was downloaded in my brain directly. The first thing I was to do was volunteer for Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. An organization I was aware of, but had no intention of joining until that morning. The second thing was to make an appointment with my family physician, whom until that morning I had basically dismissed because I had felt dismissed by him. Not in a bad way mind you. I love my doctor. He is very kind. He just never found anything he could fix in me, and I had concluded it was pointless for us both for me to return.
The third thing I was supposed to do was have a past life regression.
Hmmm. Yes, this is why I am here.
Dolores' class this weekend has about 25 people in it. For three days we all learn how to do hypnosis, the Cannon way. On the third day, Dolores regresses one lucky student.
I had overheard several people make their intention known that they would be quite interested in volunteering to be the demonstration client. I did not offer. I just waited and watched.
On the way to lunch today Dolores pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to be regressed. She said she used to pull names out of a hat, but most of the time she lets her connection to the "Super Conscious" or "Collective Unconscious" guide her to the appropriate subject.
Me.
In just a few hours.
With 24 people watching.
Well, maybe not.
Before I begin to tell you a story today, let me back up a little bit and start by telling you a couple of things. First, my life has been filled with experiences that defy logic and are not easily explained.
Second, I am a skeptic at heart. Truly, I am. I turn to logic first to answer any question or solve any problem. I give my left brain and and traditional ways of thinking about things first dibs when faced with a conundrum.
Then... when logic fails me, (as it has so many times) I am willing to open my mind and my heart up to other possibilities according to the truth in my heart. Below is a story to illustrate this statement. It literally took me years to stop being a skeptic and fully accept the truth of this event I am about to describe to you.
It was about 1992. My children were babies I was living in New
Jersey. My friend Patty told me about a presentation about Past Lives
that would end in a group regression. We got our husbands to watch the
babies and off we went. I wasn't sure about the whole reincarnation concept,
but the idea of an afternoon free from diapers and dishes was most appealing.
Frankly, I don't remember a lot about the presentation, but I remember every
detail about the regression.
The leader had the small group of people attending, lie on the floor and performed group hypnosis. Our visualization was that of descending down a staircase and seeing a series of doors that represented other lifetimes we have experienced. We were to pick a relevant door to examine a relevent life.
I walked down the stairs. I still remember picking the second door on my left. I opened the door and walked into this scene:
I was at the ceiling viewing remotely the scene where I was the woman
in the room but not in her body. It was a dark room but it was
daylight outside. The building was made of stone or carved out of
stone. The windows were few and covered against the heat of the
scorching sun. Outside people (mostly men) were walking with long
coverings over their bodies to protect them from the heat and sun. The
walls were blinding white and mostly rounded in form.
Inside the room there was more color. There was weavings on the wall,
rugs on the floor and many places to sit or lay. The woman was seated
on the floor, on pillows near a low table. To her left was a toddler
boy, her son. To her right was her father, a man with a beard and
covered head. On the table was food that she had prepared for their
midday meal. It was good food and there was plenty of it.
I knew her internal thoughts. She was thinking that she was so
grateful for the food, that she and her family did not need to worry
very much about being hungry, and that was not the case with many of
the people that were walking just outside her door. There were many
hungry people in their "villiage"?
The father and the son were eating happily and heartily but the woman
was merely picking at her food. She was feeling envious and guilty.
She was envious of her father, who could come and go as he pleased and
could participate in nearly any activity or travel he might wish. She
felt he had a good, full and interesting life. She was burning with
envy over this. She loved her father dearly, he treated her as well or
better than any man in their culture, but in their culture women were
not to create or achieve or experience much of anything but childbirth
and cooking and homekeeping. She was not even often allowed to spend
much time with other women. She felt like a prisoner.
Looking at her son she felt envious of his future life. HE would have
opportunities she could not even fathom. And all because he was male.
She felt like such a bad mother for envying her very own child but she
could not help her strong feelings.
She wanted to experience the world and felt that it was hidden from
her, kept from her. She was young and healthy and thought all she had
to look forward to was a repetition of this same mundane day and
gnawing envy and anger in her belly.
That was pretty much the regression.
I don't know time in history or the culture, but I figure middle
eastern and at least two or more hundred years ago. I did not know my
name or if I was married or how I died.
Now when I left that room that day I had this thought:
"Wow. Wasn't that great that even though I did not *really* get
hypnotized or regressed, that my imagination at least played along and
I was entertained for a part of this afternoon?"
I dismissed the whole thing as a product of my very
active imagination, and a wonderful parlor trick.
But something happened. Over the years I thought about that woman a
lot. I never forgot any of the small details of the experience. The event
became seared in my memory and remains now, as vivid of a personal
memory for my soul as any pivotal or important memory of my current life.
I also could and can EASILY see where some of my own attitudes about women
and their roles in culture were and ARE affected by this woman's existence.
It took a while but I totally changed my mind and feel I had a genuine experience
and if for only a minute or two, I was transported back into time where my
soul occupied another body in another time.
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