Pepe has been a challenge this morning. He peed down the front of an oak cabinet that is along one wall in the dining room. I’ve been half an hour cleaning it up.
I spent five hours yesterday setting up a strict schedule so that I can spend the majority of my week tidying up Le Marais, researching prospective agents, and beginning research on a new project, The Madeleine Diaries.
I am already off the schedule, thanks to my furry one. He was angry because I wouldn’t let him go outside to pee. I expected him to use his box. Imagine.
I am finally sitting in front of my computer, and just finished listening to Gravity of Love by Enigma. I am struck by some of the words:
What you need and everything you’ll feel, is just a question of the deal…
Find the one who’ll guide you to the limits of your choice.
Writer(s): Carl Orff, Michael Cretu, Copyright: Schott Music, Edition 1-2-3 Music, GEMA, Schott Musik International Gmbh & Co. Kg
Several years ago I was plagued with the feeling that I was responsible for everything that went on around me. Obviously, I couldn’t be responsible for those decisions made by other people, yet I couldn’t shake this feeling. I went in for hypnotherapy.
Up until that time, I didn’t believe in reincarnation. There’s no way, right? But this started a whole period of reevaluation. Because what I found there fascinated me, and sent me in a few times to find out more.
The mountains under me were tall and jagged with deep crevasses. I was told these were placed there to make it difficult to travel back to previous lives, each range blocking each visit we’ve made to this place we call Earth. The toughest schoolyard there is. It was terrifying, and I had an unbearable sense of vertigo. But I went back, back, and back.
The year was 1532. I found a ship. I think it’s called a frigate. Black and red. All the crew was dead. The captain was slowly dying on the deck. I held this man gently. Because of his decisions, the crew had been tortured and killed in front of him. His Second in Command lay only a few feet away, his eyes had been torn out.
I rocked him as he told me his story. So responsible. He had had the best of intentions, but the people he had trusted were not trustworthy. I soothed him as he died. I told him that trust was necessary, that the fault was not in him, but in those who had betrayed him.
When he died, I lay him gently on deck, and covered him with a torn sail. I knew very well who this man was. His body had held my soul in a previous life.
Seconds later, I was back in my own body. But I will never be the same.
How do we deal with those people who betray us? That misuse us? That we try to forgive, but find the offenses so great, so destructive, that it is impossible to retain any of the love and trust necessary to continue the relationship?
During another episode of hypnosis, I entered a large hall, filled with marble cubbyholes. Within one of these, I found the plans for eighteen lifetimes. Mine. I was allowed to touch one, but not to open it. Not only would my life purpose be compromised, but all those contracted with me in this lifetime would be compromised as well. Contracts?
I learned that in the planning period before signing on, we find souls who agree to join with us in this lifetime to contribute to the lessons we’ve decided to explore. Each lesson is carefully planned, with a few escape routes built in. Some lessons are hard won, made up of pain, some are delightful. But it’s all in the deal, a part of the plan. I’ve agreed to meet up in your life, you’ve agreed to meet up in mine. We’re never alone. Just as we weren’t alone when we planned it.
What possessed me to sign up for some of my life-lessons this time around, I won’t understand until it’s over. But some of the lessons from the past are not yet complete, and we are so determined to learn them, that we return. Only the strongest, the most stubborn, the bravest, sign up for Earth. Because here, we deal with emotion. We deal with love. We deal with sacrifice. We deal with faith.
So. To the one with furry ears: I know we agreed to this. But please…