In Bayfield Ontario there sits a little inn aptly named The Little Inn of Bayfield. This is where the first Feathers Retreat in Canada was held.
Indigo, who is a childhood friend of the researcher for the show Rescue Mediums, suggested the trip to me.
When I arrived in Bayfield I was assigned a room in the additional cottages built in the mid 1980’s. My room, Oddliefson, was at the very top of the cottage and was gorgeous. I had a neighbour to the left of me, and two across from me.
Monday night we relaxed to a Welcome Dinner. Sitting next to me was a man named Ty. Ty manages a couple of theatres in the Toronto area. His wife, Lily, is a soft spoken, mild mannered, astrologer. Slightly reserved in group environments, I began settling in when the conversation moved in to the theme of reincarnation.
Reincarnation is a very debatable topic. We can only relate our personal experiences. Something you should know about me: I learn from others' mistakes and I am open to understanding an alternate point of view. Another thing about me: I only know what I know through experience. Honestly, ideas are concepts to me until they become fact. Fact for me means knowing. Don’t expect me to be wrong if I say I know (insert arrogant smile here). It means I feel it with all of me.
Dessert arrived as our discussion turned to the itinerary for the week. We were excited for Wednesday’s meditation - a past-life regression. Ty spoke of a previous past life regression, relating it to a recurring pain in his right thigh. It turns out he'd been a Roman soldier who was speared badly in combat, resulting in a lame right leg. Ty admitted his own scepticism prior to his first regression. He could hardly suppress tears as he spoke of the moment he plunged his sword into the man before him, killing him in battle, and pulling out the bloody blade as he memorized the dying man’s face. Ty’s broad shoulders, flat forehead, distinctly dignified nose and generous dark curly hair made the story believable. Lily felt she had been a nun in a former life. Her nature during dinner was more than simple shyness. It was careful and reserved, small and quiet, peaceful. She was hoping to clarify the strong pull she had felt since childhood.
Wednesday morning our group of twenty-two sat in chairs in a wide circle. Led by Jackie and Steve, our Feathers facilitators, we embarked on our personal journey to the Akashic records (Book of Life, if you will). These meditations are not typical. They are deep and trance-like. If you doubt its depth or ability to ‘take you somewhere’ as I did, you will likely emerge a believer.
There is a point in the meditation where you reach a gate, a door, a step. This is the moment. As a person who strives to balance my need for control with my willingness to surrender, I felt fear. My body shivered at what I might find once I crossed this threshold. Panic, darkness, my eyes shot open and Jackie was watching me. I knew the information before me must be important since I feared it so much. I shut my eyes and went back. I crossed the threshold into a sunny day. Standing in a wide gravel road I surveyed the bustling town. I knew I was dead.
I was a young woman. I would’ve been nineteen next July. Children played and laughed, the dust kicked up as they ran by. The shops were busy. My hair was dark and long, I wore it up most of the time. My right foot, slightly larger than my left, felt swollen and tight in my black leather shoe. The dark red skirt I wore fell long, hid my imperfection. I saw myself carrying pies across town. I worked for a couple who owned a bakery. I often read by candlelight in company of my fat cat named Hazel. I enjoyed knitting and sold my work for extra income which was more than enough for me. I was alone, completely and utterly alone. I didn’t have one friend. Not even the couple I worked for liked me much. I felt invisible.
We were asked to go to the happiest moment of our lives. There, in the middle of the road I saw my family, all of them. I had a mother and father, two older sisters and one younger brother. I saw myself, an eight year old, held in their embrace amidst laughter and immense love. Bittersweet in my recollection, I fought my sobs with partial success. The memory was extremely painful. This was it, the best moment in this woman's life was her last memory of them. In that life, I outlived my family by ten years. It ended when I was raped and stabbed in the abdomen.
This meditation was profound. It explained a few of my own thoughts about me. Half way through the meditation, the gentleman I sat beside became disturbed, got up and left the group. All of us were changed, bonded in our personal experience of pain, joy, life and death. We had all cried.
What did I learn from that life? We don’t make moments…they make us.
Continued on Monday August 8th, 2011
Until then, I remain yours,
Lesley
Hallelujah Heartist
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