Re­claim­ing past life skills

In seek­ing to re­con­nect with her past life skills Raym’s client re­ac­ti­vates more than she ex­pected.

Living Now - - Metaphysics - By Raym Richards

Isense my client’s con­fu­sion as she moves spon­ta­neously into a vis­ceral past life ex­pe­ri­ence. It is dark and very cold. Her body hurts as it is hit re­peat­edly; left hip, head, right el­bow – all bear the brunt of what feels like a hard blunt ob­ject cov­ered in some­thing soft. She hears a rhyth­mic dull thump­ing and won­ders if she is be­ing beaten as part of some prim­i­tive rit­ual...

Tammy is faced with a ma­jor, lu­cra­tive, ca­reer de­ci­sion but she is un­sure about her choices. She feels that un­der­stand­ing her past life skills could bring clar­ity to her present life pur­pose. Our in­ter­view is brief and as soon as she lays in the crys­tal grid she moves into a deep trance with­out any as­sis­tance from me – a sure sign that she has done this be­fore, in other lives.

Rather than a gen­tle process of grad­ual re­call she has moved im­me­di­ately into a sit­u­a­tion she does not understand. She is in a bone-chilling space with even more frigid air out­side. It feels like she is mov­ing. What­ever she is in, it is creak­ing as it lurches vi­o­lently from side to side. Be­yond her im­me­di­ate space, she hears the reg­u­lar deep breath­ing of large an­i­mals work­ing hard. Then she re­alises where she is.

She is bounc­ing around in­side a horse drawn car­riage and we travel with great ur­gency into a coal black night. Her deep de­sire to un­lock her in­nate abil­i­ties has brought us to this mo­ment in time and space. It is an en era that could do with bet­ter roads and with car­riages with much bet­ter sus­pen­sion. The track and sur­round­ing hedgerows ahead are barely il­lu­mi­nated by the fee­ble lamps at the front of the car­riage. The driver must know this route well. Even so, he is barely driv­ing on the right side of reck­less.

The child, we must get to the child.

Her thoughts spill into the night air.

This ride be­comes less harsh as we ap­proach a grand house with tall win­dows, barely vis­i­ble in the thick, crisp dark­ness that touches ev­ery­thing.

“This way”. A re­tainer il­lu­mi­nated by his lamp greets Tammy and guides her into the manor house, her long dress catching on the spikes of frozen mud around the car­riage. I no­tice the smell of the soapy foam em­a­nat­ing from steaming horses, who have worked so hard to bring us here. We en­ter a grand lobby, walk swiftly past im­pos­ing paint­ings and up a sweep­ing stair­case into a bed­room where a lit­tle boy, at­tended by his par­ents, moans and sweats with a high fever.

The child is very sick and I watch as Tammy moves quickly light­ing a bunch of dried herbs bound with cot­ton, wav­ing them above the child, smudg­ing the air around him. Next she pulls a bot­tle out of her bag and splashes its con­tents over him, re­peat­edly recit­ing a prayer and af­fir­ma­tions. She is very fo­cused and I can see what the par­ents do not. She is sum­mon­ing all her en­ergy to project an in­tense burst of un­con­di­tional love and light into the chest of the child, whose breath­ing has be­come ir­reg­u­lar and weak. She has ar­rived in the nick of time.

The child’s back arches and he dis­charges a chilling croak­ing groan, re­leas­ing a dark en­ergy that only Tammy and my­self can see. It drifts out of the win­dow. The cri­sis has passed and the child’s breath­ing re­turns to nor­mal as his fever sub­sides. Tammy sits with him for the re­main­der of the night.

A sparkling win­ter dawn il­lu­mi­nates the room, its soft pink light ca­resses the peace­fully sleep­ing child. Tammy is in­vited to break­fast with the fam­ily who are joy­ful and grate­ful for her work. The meal is a pleas­ant ex­tended cel­e­bra­tion in front of a big warm­ing fire. Ac­cept­ing their thanks Tammy is paid in gold coin. She re­fuses a car­riage choos­ing, in­stead to enjoy the frosty morn­ing air. Walk­ing across the beau­ti­ful English coun­try­side she stops at a stream and re­freshes her­self, happy and con­tent.

Im­me­di­ately Tammy re­calls be­ing a teenager in this life, ex­pe­ri­enc­ing a sex­ual as­sault. She is pinned down, phys­i­cally over­whelmed and ut­terly re­pulsed, all she can do is wait for it to fin­ish. As I guide her through the release process I no­tice some­thing un­ex­pected. Her as­sailant is not act­ing alone. He is be­ing in­flu­enced by some­thing at­tached to him.

It ap­pears as a raven, an­gry and bit­ter. I sense Tammy’s fear.

A wiz­ened and venge­ful old man with ragged clothes and shack­les around his feet morphs out of the crow and abuses Tammy. It takes some time to calm him, but even­tu­ally Tammy is able to for­give him. Then gen­tly re­mov­ing him from his present life host, we help this tor­tured earth­bound spirit find peace.

Her re­union with her in­nate know­ing of the heal­ing pow­ers of all things herbal and plant re­lated is very mov­ing. She sits up and fin­ishes the ses­sion as abruptly as it started.

“This is crazy and beau­ti­ful. I can talk to the plants! I can hear them now. They tell me how we can work to­gether. I can do this again! I can be a healer…”

I smile as I ob­serve her joy. “So you won’t be tak­ing that job in in­vest­ment bank­ing then?” n

Raym is a shaman and teacher of teach­ers. He teaches his Crys­tal Dream­ing™ tech­nique world­wide and takes an­nual tours of sa­cred sites in the UK. His sto­ries are based on ac­tual, real life ex­pe­ri­ences.

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