Many Lives, Many Masters
Dr Brian Weiss
THE TRUE STORY of a prominent psychiatrist, his young patient and the past-life therapy that changed both of their lives
Chapter 11
Several nights later I was jolted awake from a deep sleep. Instantly alert, I had a vision of Catherine's face, several times larger than life-size . She looked upset , as if she needed my help. I looked over at the clock; it was 3:36 A.M. There had been no outside noise to awaken me. Carole was sleeping peacefully beside me. I dismissed the incident and fell back to sleep.
At about 3:30 that same morning, Catherine had awakened in a panic from a nightmare. She was sweating and her heart was racing. She decided to meditate to relax, visualizing my hypnotizing her in the office. She pictured my face , heard my voice, and gradually fell back to sleep.
Catherine was becoming increasingly psychic, and apparently so was I. I could hear my old psychiatry professors talking about transference and countertransference reactions in therapeutic relationships. Transference is the patient's projection of feelings, thoughts, and wishes onto the therapist, who represents someone from the patient's past. Countertransference is the reverse, the therapist's unconscious emotional reactions to the patient. But this 3:30 A.M. communication was neither. This was a telepathic bond along a wavelength outside the normal channels. Somehow the hypnosis was opening up this channel. Or was it the audience , a diverse group of spirits—Masters and guardians and others—that was responsible for the new wavelength ? I was beyond the point of surprise.
In the next session , Catherine quickly reached a deep hypnotic level. She was instantly alarmed . "I see a big cloud . . . it scared me. It was there." She was breathing rapidly.
"Is it still there?"
"I don't know . It came and went quickly . . . something up high on a mountain. " She remained alarmed , continuing to breathe heavily. I was afraid she was seeing a bomb. Could she look into the future?
"Can you see the mountain? Is it like a bomb?"
"I don't know."
"Why did it scare you?"
"It was very sudden. It was just there. It's very smoky . . . very smoky. It's big. It's off at a distance. Oh. . . . "
"You're safe. Can you get closer to it?"
"I don't want to get closer! " she answered sharply . It was rare for her to be so resistant.
"Why are you so afraid of it?" I asked again.
"I think it's some chemicals or something . It's hard to breathe when you're around it." She was breathing laboriously.
"Is it like a gas? Is it coming from the mountain itself . . . like a volcano?"
"I think so . It's like a big mushroom. That's what it looks like . . . a white one."
"But not a bomb? It's not an atomic bomb or anything like that?" She paused and then continued.
"It's a vol . . . some type of volcano or something , I think. It's very scary. It's hard to breathe. There's dust in the air. I don't want to be there. " Slowly her breathing returned to the usual deep and even respirations of the hypnotic state . She had left this frightening scene.
"Is it easier to breathe now?"
"Yes."
"Good. What are you seeing now?"
"Nothing. .. . I see a necklace, a necklace on somebody's neck. It's blue ... it's silver and has a blue stone hanging off it, and then littler stones underneath that."
"Is there anything on the blue stone?"
"No, it's see-through. You can see through it . The lady has black hair and a blue hat on . . . with a big feather, and the dress is velvet."
"Do you know the lady?"
"No."
"Are you there, or are you the lady?"
"I don't know."
But you see her?"
"Yes. I'm not the lady."
"How old is she?"
"In her forties. But she looks older than what she is."
"Is she doing anything?"
"No, she's just standing next to the table . There's a perfume bottle on the table . It's white with green flowers on it . There's a brush and a comb with silver handles. "
I was impressed with her eye for detail. "Is it her room, or is it in a store?"
"It's her room. There's a bed in it . . . with four posts on it. It's a brown bed. There's a pitcher on the table."
"A pitcher?"
"Yes, there are no pictures in the room. There are funny , dark curtains."
"Is anybody else around?"
"No."
"What relationship does this lady have to you?"
"I serve her."
Once again she was a servant. "Have you been with her long?"
"No .. . a few months."
"Do you like that necklace?"
"Yes. She's very elegant."
"Have you ever worn the necklace?"
"No." Her short answers required my active steering in order to obtain basic information. She reminded me of my pre-teenage son.
"How old are you now?"
"Maybe thirteen, fourteen. . . . "
About the same age. "Why have you left your family?" I inquired.
"I haven't left them," she corrected me. "I just work there. "
"I see. Do you go home to your family after that?"
"Yes."
Her answers left little room for exploration. "Do they live nearby?"
"Close enough . . . . We are very poor. It is necessary for us to work .. . to serve."
"Do you know the lady's name?"
"Belinda."
"Does she treat you well?"
"Yes."
"Good. Do you work hard?"
"It's not very tiring."
Interviewing teenagers was never easy, even in past lifetimes. It was fortunate that I was well practiced. "Good. Are you still seeing her now?"
"No."
"Where are you now?"
"In another room. There's a table with a black covering on it . . . and fringe around the bottom. It smells of many herbs . . . heavy perfume."
"Does this all belong to your mistress ? Does she use a lot of perfume?"
"No, this is another room. I'm in another room."
"Whose room is this?"
"It belongs to some dark lady."
"Dark how? Can you see her?"
"She has many coverings on her head," Catherine whispered, "many shawls. She's old and wrinkled."
"What is your relationship to her?"
"I've just gone to see her."
"For what?"
"So she may do the cards."
Intuitively I knew that she had gone to a fortune teller, one who probably read tarot cards. This was an ironic twist. Here Catherine and I were involved in an incredible psychic adventure , spanning lifetimes and dimensions beyond even that, and yet, perhaps two hundred years earlier, she had visited a psychic to find out about her future. I knew that Catherine had never visited a psychic in her present life, and she had no knowledge whatsoever about tarot cards or fortune-telling; these things frightened her. "Does she read fortunes?" I asked.
"She sees things."
"Do you have a question for her? What do you want to see? What do you want to know?"
"About some man . . that I might marry."
"What does she say when she does the cards?"
"The card with . . . some kind of poles on it . Poles and flowers . . . but poles , spears, or some kind of line . There's another card with a chalice on it , a cup . .. . I see a card with a man or boy carrying a shield. She says I will marry, but I will not marry this man. .. . I see nothing else."
"Do you see the lady?"
"I see some coins."
"Are you still with her, or is this a different place?"
"I am with her."
"What do the coins look like?"
"They're gold. The edges are not smooth. They are squared. There's a crown on one side."
"See if there is a year imprinted on the coins . Something that you can read .. . in lettering."
"Some foreign numbers," she replied. "X's and I's."
"Do you know what year that is?"
"Seventeen . . . something . I don't know when. " She was silent again.
"Why is this fortune-teller important to you?"
"I don't know. . . . "
"Does her fortune come true?"
". . . But she' gone, " Catherine whispered . "It' s gone . I don't know."
"Do you see anything now?"
"No."
"No?" I was surprised . Where was she ? "Do you know your name in this lifetime? " I asked, hoping to pick up the thread of this life several hundred years ago.
I'm gone from there. " She had left the lifetime and was resting. She could do this now on her own. It was not necessary for her to experience her death to do so. We waited for several minutes. This lifetime had not been spectacular. She had remembered only some descriptive highlights and the interesting visit to the fortune-teller. "Do you see anything now?" I asked again.
"No," she whispered.
"Are you resting?"
"Yes . . . jewels of different colors. . . . "
"Jewels?"
"Yes. They're really lights, but they look like jewels. . . . "
"What else?" I asked.
"I just . . . " she paused, and then her whisper was loud and firm.
"There are many words and thoughts that are flying around. . . . It's about coexistence and harmony .. . the balance of things."
I knew the Masters were nearby. "Yes," I urged her on. " I want to know about these things. Can you tell me?"
"Right now they're just words," she answered.
"Coexistence and harmony," I reminded her. When she answered, it was the voice of the poet Master. I was thrilled to hear from him again.
"Yes," he answered. "Everything must be balanced . Nature is balanced . The beasts live in harmony. Humans have not learned to do that. They continue to destroy themselves. There is no harmony , no plan to what they do. It's so different in nature. Nature is balanced. Nature is energy and life . . . and restoration. And humans just destroy. They destroy nature. They destroy other humans. They will eventually destroy themselves."
This was an ominous prediction. With the world constantly in chaos and turmoil, I hoped this would not be soon. "When will this happen?" I asked.
"It will happen sooner than they think. Nature will survive. Plants will survive. But we will not."
"Can we do anything to prevent that destruction?"
"No. Everything must be balanced. ... "
"Will this destruction happen in our lifetime ? Can we avert it?"
"It will not happen in our lifetime . We will be on another plane, another dimension , when it happens , but we will see it"
"Is there no way of teaching humankind? " I kept looking for a way out, for some mitigating possibility.
"It will be done on another level. We will learn from that."
I looked on the bright side . "Well, then our souls progress in different places."
"Yes. We will no longer be . . . here , as we know it . We will see it."
"Yes," I conceded . " I have a need to teach these people , but I don't know how to reach them. Is there a way, or do they have to learn this for themselves?"
"You cannot reach everyone. In order to stop the destruction you must reach everyone , and you cannot . It cannot be stopped. They will learn. When they progress, they will learn. There will be peace, but not here, not here in this dimension. "
"Eventually there will be peace?"
"Yes, on another level."
"It seems so far away, though, " I complained . "People seem so petty now . . . greedy , power-hungry , ambitious . They forget about love and understanding and knowledge . There is much to learn."
"Yes."
"Can I write anything to help these people? Is there some way?"
"You know the way. We do not have to tell you. It will all be to no avail, for we will all reach the level , and they will see. We are all the same . One is no greater than the next. And all this is just lessons . . . and punishments."
"Yes," I agreed . This lesson was a profound one , and I needed time to digest it . Catherine had become silent . We waited, she resting and I pensively absorbed in the dramatic pronouncements of the past hour. Finally, she broke the spell.
"The jewels are gone," she whispered. "The jewels are gone. The lights . . they're gone."
"The voices, too? The words?"
"Yes. I see nothing. " As she paused , her head began to move from side to side. "A spirit .. . is looking."
"At you?"
"Yes."
"Do you recognize the spirit?"
"I'm not sure .. . I think it might be Edward. "
Edward had died during the previous year. Edward was truly ubiquitous. He seemed to be always around her. "What did the spirit look like?"
"Just a . . . just white . . . like lights . He had no face , not like we know it, but I know it's he."
"Was he communicating at all with you?"
"No, he was just watching."
"Was he listening to what I was saying?"
"Yes," she whispered. "But he's gone now . He just wanted to be sure I'm all right. "
I thought about the popular mythology of the guardian angel . Certainly Edward , in the role of the hovering , loving spirit watching over her to make sure she was all right, approached such an angelic role . And Catherine had already talked about guardian spirits . I wondered how many of our childhood "myths " were actually rooted in a dimly remembered past.
I also wondered about the hierarchy of spirits , about who became a guardian and who a Master, and about those who were neither , just learning . There must be gradations based upon wisdom and knowledge , with the ultimate goal that of becoming God-like and approaching , perhaps merging somehow, with God. This was the goal that mystic theologians had described in ecstatic term s over the centuries. They had had glimpses of such a divine union. Short of such personal experience, vehicles such as Catherine , with her extraordinary talent, provided the best view. [no need to merge doc,we are never really separate from God, we fool ourselves into thinking we are, but that is not the case D.C]
Edward had gone , and Catherine had become silent. Her face was peaceful, and she was enveloped in serenity. What a marvelous talent she possessed—the ability to see beyond life and beyond death, to talk with the "gods " and to share their wisdom. We were eating from the Tree of Knowledge, no longer forbidden. I wondered how many apples were left.
Carole's mother , Minette , was dying from the cancer that had spread from her breast to her bones and liver. The process had been going on for four years and now could no longer be slowed down by chemotherapy. She was a brave woman who stoically endured the pain and weakness. But the disease was accelerating, and I knew that her death was approaching.
The sessions with Catherine were going on simultaneously , and I shared the experience and revelations with Minette . I was mildly surprised that she, a practical businesswoman, readily accepted this knowledge and wanted to learn more. I gave her books to read , and she did so avidly . She arranged for and took a course with Carole and me in kabbalah , the Jewish mystical writings that are centuries old. Reincarnation and the in-between planes are basic tenets of kabbalistic literature, yet most modern-day Jews are unaware of this . Minette's spirit strengthened as her body deteriorated . Her fear of death diminished. She began to anticipate being reunited with her beloved husband, Ben. She believed in the immortality of her soul, and this helped her endure the pain . She was holding on to life , awaiting the birth of another grandchild, her daughter Donna' s first baby . She had met Catherine in the hospital during one of her treatments , and their eyes and words joined peacefully and eagerly. Catherine's sincerity and honesty helped convince Minette that the existence of an afterlife was indeed true.
A week before she died, Minette was admitted to the hospital's oncology floor. Carole and I were able to spend time with her, talking about life and death, and what awaited us all after death. A lady of great dignity , she decided to die in the hospital, where the nurses could care for her. Donna, her husband, and their six-week-old daughter came to spend time with her and say good-bye. We were almost continuously with her. About six in the evening of the night Minette died , Carole and I , having just arrived home from the hospital , both experienced a strong urge to go back. The next six or seven hours were filled with serenity and a transcendental spiritual energy. Although her breathing was labored, Minette had no more pain . We talked about her transition to the in - between state , the bright light , and the spiritual presence. She reviewed her life , mostly silently , and struggled to accept the negative parts. She seemed to know that she couldn't let go until this process was completed. She was waiting for a very specific time to die, in the early morning. She grew impatient for this time to come. Minette was the first person I had guided to and through death in this manner. She was strengthened, and our grief was assuaged by the entire experience.
I found that my ability to heal my patients had significantly expanded, not just with phobias and anxieties, but especially in death-and-dying , or grief counseling. I intuitively knew what was wrong and what directions to take in therapy. I was able to convey feelings of peacefulness, calm, and hope . After Minette's death, many others who were either dying or who were the survivors of a loved one's death came for help. Many were not ready to know about Catherine or the literature about life after death. But even without imparting such specific knowledge, I felt that I could still deliver the message. A tone of voice , an empathic understanding of the process and of their fears and feelings, a look, a touch, a word - all could get through, at some level, and touch a chord of hope, of forgotten spirituality, of shared humanity, or even more. And for those ready for more, to suggest readings and to share my experience s with Catherine and others was like opening a window to a fresh breeze. The ones who were ready were revived. They gained insights even more rapidly .
I believe strongly that therapists must have open minds. Just as more scientific work is necessary to document death - and-dying experiences, such as Catherine's, so is more experiential work necessary in the field. Therapists need to consider the possibility of life after death and integrate it into their counseling. They do not have to use hypnotic regressions, but they should keep their minds open, share their knowledge with their patients, and not discount their patients ' experiences.
People are now devastated by threats to their mortality. The plague of AIDS, nuclear holocaust, terrorism, disease, and many other catastrophes hang over our heads and torture us daily. Many teenagers believe that they won't live past their twenties. This is incredible, reflecting the tremendous stresses in our society. On the individual level, Minette's reaction to Catherine's messages is encouraging. Her spirit had strengthened, and she had felt hope in the face of great physical pain and bodily deterioration. But the messages are for all of us, not just the dying. There is hope for us, too. We need more clinicians and scientists to report on other Catherines, to confirm and expand her messages. The answers are there . We are immortal . We will always be together.
Chapter 12
Three and a half months had passed since our first hypnosis session. Not only had Catherine's symptoms virtually disappeared, but she had progressed beyond merely being cured. She was radiant , with a peaceful energy around her. People were drawn to her. When she ate breakfast in the hospital cafeteria, both men and women would rush to join her. "You look so beautiful; I just wanted t o tell you that, " they would say. Like a fisher, she would reel them in on an invisible psychic line. And she had been eating unnoticed in the same cafeteria for years.
As usual, she sank quickly into a deep hypnotic trance in my dimly lit office, her blond hair spilling over in rivulets on the familiar beige pillow.
"I see a building . . . it's made out of stone . And there's something pointed on the top of it. It's in a very mountainous area. It's very damp . . it's very damp outside . I see a wagon. I see a wagon going by .. . the front. The wagon has hay in it, some kind of straw or hay or something for the animals to eat. There are some men there. They're carrying some type of banners, something flying on the end of a stick. Very bright colors . I hear them talking about Moors . . . Moors. And a war that's being fought . There's some type of metal, something metal covering their heads . . . some type of head covering made of metal. The year is 1483 . Something about Danes. Are we fighting the Danes ? Some war is being fought."
"Are you there?" I questioned.
"I don't see that, " she answered softly . "I see the wagons. They have two wheels on them , two wheels and an open back. They're open; the sides are open with slats, some type of wooden slats held together . I see . . . something metal they wear around their necks . . . very heavy metal in the shape of a cross. But the ends are curved, the ends are round . . . on the cross . It' s the feast of some saint . .. . I see swords. They have some type of knife or sword . . . very heavy, very blunt end. They are preparing for some battle."
"See if you can find yourself," I instructed . "Look around . Perhaps you're a soldier . You're seeing them from somewhere."
"I'm not a soldier." She was definite about this.
"Look around."
"I have brought some of the provisions. It's a village, some village." She was silent.
"What do you see now?"
"I see a banner, some type of banner. It's red and white . . . white with a red cross."
"Is it the banner of your people?" I asked.
"It's the banner of the king's soldiers," she responded.
"Is this your king?"
"Yes."
"Do you know the king's name?"
"I don't hear that. He's not there."
"Can you look and see what you're wearing ? Look down and see what you're wearing." k
"Some type of leather . . . leather tunic over . , . over a very rough shirt . A leather tunic . . . it' s short. Some type of animal-skin shoes . . . not shoes, more like boots or moccasins. No one's talking to me."
"I understand. What color is your hair?"
"It's light, but I'm old, and there's some gray to it."
"How do you feel about this war?"
"It has become my way of life. I've lost a child in a previous skirmish."
"A son?"
"Yes." She was sad.
"Who's left for you? Who's left in your family?"
"My wife . . . and my daughter."
"What was your son's name?" "
I don't see his name. I remember him. I see my wife. "
Catherine had been both male and female many times. Childless in her present life , she had parented numerous children in her other lifetimes. "What does your wife look like?"
"She's very tired , very tired. She's old. We have some goats."
"Does your daughter still live with you?"
"No, she is married and left some time ago."
"Are you alone, then, you and your wife?"
"Yes."
"How is your life?"
"We are tired. We are very poor. It has not been easy."
"No. You've lost your son. Do you miss him?"
"Yes," she answered simply, but the grief was palpable.
"Have you been a farmer?" I changed the subject.
"Yes. There's wheat . . . wheat , something like wheat."
"Have there been many wars in your land , through your life, with much tragedy?"
"Yes."
"But you have lived to be old."
"But they fight away from the village , not in the village, " she explained. "They must travel to where they do battle . . . over many mountains."
"Do you know the name of the land that you live in? Or the town?"
"I don't see it, but it must have a name. I don't see it."
"Is this a very religious time for you? You see crosses on the soldiers."
"For others, yes. Not for me."
"Is anybody alive yet from the rest of your family, other than your wife and your daughter?"
"No."
"Your parents have died?"
"Yes."
"Brothers and sisters?"
"I have a sister. She is alive. I don't know her," she added, referring to her life as Catherine.
"Okay. See if you recognize anyone else in the village or your family."
If people did reincarnate in groups, she was likely to find someone there who was also significant in her current lifetime.
"I see a stone table .. . I see bowls."
"Is this your house?"
"Yes. Something made out of ker . . . something yellow, something from corn .. . or something . . . yellow . We eat this. . . . "
"All right, " I added , trying to quicken the pace . "This has been a very hard life for you, a very hard life . What are you thinking of?"
"Horses," she whispered.
"Do you own horses? Or does somebody else?"
"No, soldiers . . . some o f them . Mostly they walk . But they're not horses they're donkeys or something littler than horses. They are mostly wild."
"Go ahead in time now, " I instructed . "You're very old . Try to go to the last day in your lifetime as an old man."
"But I'm not very old," she objected. She was not particularly suggestible in these past lives. What was happening was happening. I could not suggest away the actual memories . I could not get her to change the details of what had happened and been remembered.
"Is there more to happen in this lifetime?" I asked, changing my approach. "It is important for us to know."
"Nothing of significance," she answered without emotion.
"Then, go ahead, go ahead in time. Let's find out what you needed to learn. Do you know?"
"No. I'm still there."
"Yes, I know. Are you seeing something? "
A minute or two passed before she answered. "I'm just floating," she whispered softly.
"Have you left him now?"
"Yes, I' m floating." She had entered the spiritual state again.
"Do you know now what you needed to learn ? It was another hard lifetime for you."
"I don't know. I'm just floating."
"Okay. Rest . . . rest. " More minutes passed silently. Then she seemed to be listening t o something. Abruptly she spoke . Her voice was loud and deep. This was not Catherine.
"There are seven planes in all, seven planes, each one consisting of many levels, one of them being the plane of recollection. On that plane you are allowed to collect your thoughts. You are allowed to see your life that has just passed. Those of the higher levels are allowed to see history. They can go back and teach us by learning about history . But we of the lower levels are only allowed t o see our own life . . . that has just passed.
"We have debts that must be paid. If we have not paid out these debts, then we must take them into another life .. . in order that they may be worked through. You progress by paying your debts. Some souls progress faster than others. When you're in physical form and you are working through , you're working through a life . .. . If something interrupts your ability .. . to pay that debt, you must return to the plane of recollection, and there you must wait until the soul you owe the debt to has come to see you. And when you both can be returned to physical form at the same time , then you are allowed to return . But you determine when you are going back. You determine what must be done to pay that debt. You will not remember your other live s . . . only the one you have just come from. Only those souls on the higher level—the sages—are allowed to call upon history and past events . . . to help us, to teach us what we must do.
"There are seven planes . . . seven through which we must pass before we are returned. One of them is the plane of transition. There you wait. In that plane it is determined what you will take back with you into the next life. We will all have .. . a dominant trait . This might be greed, or it might be lust, but whatever is determined, you need to fulfill your debts to those people . Then you must overcome this in that lifetime. You must learn to overcome greed. If you do not, when you return you will have to carry that trait , as well as another one, into your next life. The burdens will become greater. With each life that you go through and you did not fulfill these debts, the next one will be harder. If you fulfill them, you will b e given an easy life. So you choose what life you will have. In the next phase , you are responsible for the life you have. You choose it." Catherine fell silent.
This was apparently not from a Master. He identified himself as "we of the lower levels, " in comparison with those souls on the higher level—"the sages. " But the knowledge transmitted was both clear and practical. I wondered about the five other planes and their qualities. Was the stage of renewal one of those planes ? And what about the learning stage and the stage of decisions ? All of the wisdom revealed through these messages from souls in various dimensions of the spiritual state was consistent. The style of delivery differed , the phraseology and grammar differed, the sophistication of verse and vocabulary differed ; but the content remained coherent. I was acquiring a systematic body of spiritual knowledge . This knowledge spoke of love and hope, faith and charity. It examined virtues and vices, debts owed to others and to one's self. It included past lifetimes and spiritual planes between lives. And it talked of the soul's progress through harmony and balance, love and wisdom, progress toward a mystical and ecstatic connection with God.
There was much practical advice along the way: the value of patience and of waiting ; the wisdom in the balance of nature; the eradication of fears , especially the fear of death; the need for learning about trust and forgiveness ; the importance of learning not to judge others, or to halt anyone's life; the accumulation and use of intuitive powers; and, perhaps most of all, the unshakable knowledge that we are immortal. We are beyond life and death , beyond space and beyond time. We are the gods, and they are us.
"I'm floating," Catherine was whispering softly.
"What state are you in?" I asked.
"Nothing . . . I'm floating. . . . Edward owes me something .. . he owes me something."
"Do you know what he owes you?"
"No. . . . Some knowledge .. . he owes me . He had something to tell me, maybe about my sister's child."
"Your sister's child?" I echoed.
"Yes . . . it's a girl. Her name is Stephanie."
"Stephanie? What do you need to know about her?"
"I need to know how to get in touch with her, " she answered. Catherine had never mentioned anything to me about this niece.
"Is she very close to you?" I asked.
"No, but she'll want to find them."
"Find who?" I questioned. I was confused.
"My sister and her husband . And the only way she can do that is through me . I'm the link. He has information. Her father is a doctor; he's practicing somewhere in Vermont, the southern part of Vermont. The information will come to me when it's needed."
I later learned that Catherine's sister and her sister's future husband had put their infant daughter up for adoption. They were teenagers at that time, and they were not yet married . The adoption was arranged by the Church. There was no information available after that time.
"Yes," I agreed. "When it's the right time."
"Yes. Then he will tell me. He'll tell me."
"What other information does he have for you?"
"I don't know, but he has things to tell me . And he owes me something . . . something. I don't know what . He owes me something."
She was silent. "Are you tired?" I asked.
"I see a bridle " was her whispered reply . "Tackle on the wall. A bridle .. . I see a blanket lying on the outside of a stall."
"Is it a barn?"
"They have horses there. They have many horses."
What else do you see?"
"I see many trees—with yellow flowers. My father is there. He takes care of the horses." I realized I was talking to a child.
"What does he look like?"
"He's very tall, with gray hair."
"Do you see yourself?"
"I'm a child . . . a girl."
"Does your father own the horses or just take care of them?"
"He just takes care of them. We live nearby."
"Do you like horses?"
"Yes."
"Do you have a favorite?"
"Yes. My horse. His name is Apple."
I remembered her lifetime as Mandy, when a horse named Apple had also appeared. Was she again repeating a lifetime we had already experienced? Perhaps she was approaching it from another perspective. "Apple . . . yes . Does your father let you ride Apple?"
"No, but I can feed him things. He's used for pulling the master's wagon, pulling his carriage. He's very big. He has big feet If you're not careful, he'll step on you."
"Who else is with you?"
"My mother is there. I see a sister . . . she's bigger than me. I don't see anyone else."
"What do you see now?"
"I just see the horses."
"Is this a happy time for you?"
"Yes. I like the smell of the barn." She was being very specific, referring to that moment in time, in the barn.
"Do you smell the horses?"
"Yes."
"The hay?"
"Yes . . . their faces are so soft . There are dogs there, too . . . black ones, some black ones and some cats .. . lots of animals . The dogs are used for hunting. When they hunt for birds, the dogs are allowed to go."
"Does anything happen to you?"
"No." My question was too vague.
"Do you grow up on this farm?"
"Yes. The man who is taking care of the horses." She paused. "He's not really my father."
I was confused. "He's not your real father?"
"I don' t know, he's . . . he's not my real father, no. But he is like a father to me. He's a second father. He is very good to me. He has green eyes."
"Look in his eyes—green eyes—and see if you can recognize him. He's good to you. He loves you."
"He's my grandfather .. . my grandfather. He loved us very much. My grandfather loved us very much. He used to take us out with him all the time . We used to go with him to where he would drink . And we could get sodas. He liked us."
My question had jolted her out of that lifetime into her observing, superconscious state. She was viewing Catherine's life now and her relationship with her grandfather.
"Do you still miss him?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered softly.
"But you see he has been with you before." I was explaining, trying to minimize her hurt.
"He was very good to us. He loved us. He never hollered at us. He used to give us money and take us with him all the time. He liked that. But he died."
"Yes, but you'll be with him again. You know that."
"Yes. I've been with him before . He was not like my father. They're so different."
"Why does one love you so much and treat you so well , and the other one is so different?"
"Because one has learned. He has paid a debt he has owed. My father has not paid his debt . He has come back . . . without understanding. He will have to do it again."
"Yes," I agreed. "He has to learn to love, to nurture."
"Yes," she answered.
"If they don' t understand this, " I added , "they treat children like property, instead of like people to love."
"Yes," she agreed.
"Your father still has to learn this."
Yes."
"Your grandfather already knows. . . . "
"I know," she interjected . "We have so many stages we go through when we're in physical stat e . . . just like the other stages of evolution. We have to go through the infancy stage, the baby stage , the child stage . . . . We have so far to go before we reach . . . before we reach our goal. The stages in physical form are hard . Those in the astral plane are easy . There we just rest and wait . These are the hard stages now. "
"How many planes are there in the astral state?"
"There are seven," she answered.
"What are they," I questioned , looking to confirm those beyond the two mentioned earlier in the session.
"I've only been told two, " she explained . "The transition stage and the stage of recollection. "
"Those are the two that I'm familiar with, also."
"We will know the others later."
"You have learned at the same time I did, " I observed .
"We learned today about debts. It is very important."
"I will remember what I should remember," she added enigmatically.
"Will you remember these planes?" I inquired.
"No. They aren't important to me . They are important to you."
I had heard this before . This was for me . To help her, but more than that. To help me, but more than that , too. Yet I could not quite fathom what the greater purpose could be. "You seem to be getting so much better now, " I went on . "You are learning so much."
"Yes," she agreed.
"Why are people now so drawn to you? Attracted to you?"
"Because I've been freed from so many fears, and I'm able to help them. They feel some psychic pull to me."
"Are you able to deal with this?"
"Yes." There was no question about it . "I'm not afraid," she added.
"Good, I will help you."
"I know," she replied. "You're my teacher."
PART 6
https://exploringrealhistory.blogspot.com/2021/02/part-6-many-lives-many-mastersthe-angry.html
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