But Where Was Me?

Grandmothers should be wise.  It’s one of those archetypal attributes of the crone, isn’t it?  So when I fall short in the wisdom department, it bothers me.  

A little over a year ago, my grandson and I were chatting about the first house he lived in – a place he dimly remembered, having moved away when he was a toddler.  His younger sister was confused.  She insisted they had never lived in a house with two huge trees in the garden.  When her brother pointed out that this was before she was born, she became almost hysterical.

Baby, Child, Girl, Pouting“But where was ME?” she demanded, her eyes filling with tears and panic.

That was when I fell short in the wise grandmother stakes.  I knew my answer to the question, but I would have struggled – when put on the spot – to find the words to explain it to a tiny child.  Even if I had managed to leap that hurdle, I was anxious about straying into the sphere of beliefs.  I’ve spent a lifetime as a teacher carefully and meticulously respecting a wealth of different creeds and cultures.  I knew my grandchildren were being brought up with a nominally Christian belief system.  Christianity has plenty to say about an afterlife, but is curiously silent on before life.  It talks vaguely about dust and ashes, which, I felt, wouldn’t help much.  Did I have the right to impose my own beliefs on those they were being brought up with? 

So I failed.  I gave the child lots of comforting cuddles, chatted to her about how excited we’d all been when she was born, and generally distracted her without ever answering her very important question.  And it has bothered me ever since.

When I came to write my children’s novel this year, I decided it would give me the opportunity to revisit the events of that day and to provide Ruby Rose, my fictional toddler heroine, with a fearless crone figure who is more than happy to address her question head on and provide a suitable response.

It was one of those parts of the book that quite happily wrote itself, while I obediently pressed the keys.  Interestingly, Misty often took control of me, as well as the situations in the story, when she appeared in the pages!

Misty waited for the girl to settle down and for the pounding of her heart to slow.  “Now,”  she began, finally.  “That was a very sensible question you asked, my dear.  I’m going to answer it for you, but you will need to listen very hard.  Can you do that?”

Ruby nodded miserably and Stellan sat on the grass at Misty’s feet, because it had never occurred to him that there could be an answer to that question.

“Before you were your mama’s little girl and Stellan’s little sister, Ruby, you were living in the Dreaming Place.”

“What’s the Dreaming Place?” Ruby asked, sitting up.

“It’s a place you know very well.  Why, you go there every night, while your body is in bed, having a rest,” Misty replied.

“You mean when we have dreams?” asked Stellan.

“Exactly.  Haven’t you ever thought how odd it is that your body stays in bed, fast asleep, while you are off doing all sorts of other things?” …

“That is strange,” agreed Stellan, who had never really considered it before.

“So,”  continued Misty, in the same calm, gentle voice, “while we have bodies like these,” she tickled Ruby Rose gently on her arm and the child giggled, “we live in them for most of the time and just put them down to rest at bedtime.  Before we are born, though, and after we have died, we spend all our time in the Dreaming Place.  That’s where you were when Stellan was a little boy and Bella the cat lived with him.”

Both children were silent for a moment, while they considered that.

“Weren’t I lonely without my ma and my pa and my brother?” Ruby wanted to know.

“Not at all,”  Misty replied.  “You were having too much fun!  You see in the Dreaming Place, you can be whatever you want and go anywhere you like.  You might have tried being a fairy or a brave explorer or even a dog or a cat.  What do you think you would have been?”

“A fairy who could fly in the air and do wishes!” Ruby announced.

“Well that would be quite splendid, wouldn’t it?”  Misty smiled.  “But after loads and loads of dreaming, you decided that what would be even more fun would be to become a little girl with a body.  You see, in the Dreaming Place there are things we can’t do.  We can’t feel happiness or pain or full up with delicious food or the softness of an animal’s fur when we stroke it.  You decided to find yourself the most perfect family for your new body to live with.”

“How did she find us?” asked Stellan. 

He couldn’t decide whether this was some kind of made-up tale to calm his sister and cheer her up or whether Misty believed all she was saying.

She smiled at him.  It was a serious smile, not the sort of winking smile grown-ups give when you and they both know they are pretending.

“As I said, in the Dreaming Place, you can go anywhere you want just by thinking about it.  Once Ruby Rose had decided she wanted to slip into a body and find a family in this – Waking Place, she travelled all around the world, deciding which would be the very best family for her to live with.  Eventually, she chose the family she wanted and when your new little sister was born, here she was!”

“I was very clever to choose my nice family, weren’t I, Misty?” Ruby smiled.

My grandson is reading The Glassmaker’s Children at the moment and maybe, when she’s a few years older, his sister will do the same and find a belated answer to her question.  

 

Where wondering leads…

Dream!

Dream! (Photo credit: Melody Campbell)

Be careful what you ask for!

I finished my last post by wondering how ‘real’ a dream had been.

Since then, I’ve been bombarded with messages from all directions – messages ‘reminding’ me (as we all have the truth within us already) how the worlds we dream interact with the world we believe ourselves to be living in.
So huge thanks to Paul and Suzy, Rory and Sarina, Cynthia and Bob and all the others who have unwittingly handed me pieces of the puzzle and helped me to slot it together.

Same Place – Different Frequencies

Radio

This one turns up everywhere – the analogy of self as a radio, able to receive all kinds of messages on different frequencies, depending which part we tune into.

Seth, via Jane Roberts, insisted that we are living many different lives at once but as we’re ‘tuned in’ to this one, we are normally unaware of the others.  Sometimes they come to us as fragments in deja vu, dreams, ‘past’ life regressions and so forth.

As I say, I’ve been receiving many reminders of that over the last few days, so perhaps I’d been ready to start experimenting with twiddling the dial a little more than I usually do: I was willing to take a glance at those other frequencies.

Switching Channels

Last night I was re-reading an amazing channelled response I had from The Council via Cynthia and Bob Dukes on their blog Ask The Council.  It concerned an alternate/past life with a young man I’ve worked with during this lifetime.  Here’s an extract in which the council explain how we worked together to teach telepathy to children in that other life:

ًQuartz Crystals.

“He was a young child who learned very quickly this [telepathic] communication and was a bridge, in the beginning, of her communicating with…the infants. And so they worked together to reach these children and then begin to… surrounded by clear quartz crystals… to magnify their vibration [and] receive the communications with these children. And because they [the children] were so recently departed from what we would consider the spiritual realm, they were very aware of this [communication].” …

“By raising the vibrations in these particular places where they worked with the children… they used crystals, sound, and music to reach the infants… and again we say, because these children were so recently leaving the spirit world, they were very aware of vibration, and spirit contact, and mind communication.”

This all made perfect sense to me.  The young man in question has – in this life – had a deep love of crystals since early childhood, and as a small child in a class of infants with speech and language difficulties, he was able to communicate telepathically with other children and taught me (the teacher) how to use this skill.  I won’t say we developed the levels of expertise outlined above, but I was certainly often able to pick up their thoughts and emotions and respond to them in the same way.

The Council insisted that we’d chosen to work more on those skills during this lifetime and that one of my major life purposes is:

“…helping younger children… teaching them about reaching for the feeling of understanding they are more than this physical body.”

Back to Dreams

Now let me share with you the portions I can remember of the dream I’d been having when I woke up this morning.

Once again I was teaching.  My co-worker was young and male, although I didn’t get a look at his face.  We were doing an important activity with a class of very small children.  It involved working virtually one-to-one with them.  This meant that those who had finished were free to play in a huge sandpit with bright plastic digger trucks and similar toys.

Sand toys

One child seemed unhappy with this.
I heard his companion say, “But we’ve got all these toys.”
“Yes, but I want to do some more of the work,” he complained.

I told my colleague we had to give these kids some attention.  He reminded me how important our ‘work’ was and insisted he was going to continue, so I devised some kind of electronic sheet (the technology – though familiar to me in the dream – has no counterpart in our world) that allowed the children to recap on the one-to-one activity they’d been doing.

I was beginning to wake up at this point – still dreaming but able to recall images and ideas and bring them back with me to this life.
“So where does the energy come from?” I heard my dream-self asking the group.
“Our HEARTS,” they chanted, cheerfully.

I was sufficiently removed from the dream by this point to be able to observe – and be amazed by – the diagram we’d created.  In the centre was a bright red heart.  It was surrounded by a torus of energy lines.
Other, differently-coloured lines flowed out from this into the Earth and in other directions.

Back to Reality?

Then I was awake – here.  I was recalling remarkably similar diagrams produced by the Heart Math Institute.  I was wondering about the technology I’d been using, and whether it related to quartz crystals in some way.  I was thinking how young those children had been, and yet how complex the work they’d been doing with us.

What I wasn’t wondering, though, was whether that was ‘real’.

It was.

On a different frequency, certainly, but just as real, whatever ‘real’ may be!