Various Members Memories

Discussion in 'Member's Memories - Archive' started by ragdoll@aloha.net, Nov 8, 1999.

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  1. cott

    cott New Member

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    Several memories of different lives


    i was a man in southeast asia. i lived alone and had a very quiet life. i see myself as being much older in this life. i must have lasted longer than my others. i believe that i made canoes or something like that. this is my newest discovery, haha.


    i was an orphan girl in eighteenth century england or france. i'm having a hard time figuring out which, exactly. i was in a large city. i just finished spending a year in paris and did not get any of the twinges that i have gotten in other places. so maybe it was england. my best childhood friend from my present life was in this one with me. i think that i may have starved to death. in this life, i have a real drive to take care of animals and people that no one else wants. dogs with three legs, babies from the third world. i think that i have a subconscious connection to them. i have very few lives that have lasted to old age. right now, i'm 21, and for the past few years i have had incredible anxiety, like my soul is just waiting for me to die. it's odd - but becoming less and less surprising.


    i was a man in maybe tudor england. i haven't done a great deal of research about this, but i have a really intense fascination with all things king henry the eighth, elizabeth I, et c. i visited hampton court this past christmas with my mother and her companion. they both have had lives there at different times, so it has a certain meaning for them. this was my first visit. there is a maze in the garden and i got us through it in less than a minute with absolutely no hesitation, at a breakneck pace. no errors; i knew exactly where i was going. i didn't realize i was doing it at the time, but when we got out, my mother and her companion were creeped out. i seem to have been there before. however, i don't know when that maze was designed/completed. maybe i designed it? i have a rather artistic bent in this life.


    i was kidnapped from my family's tent as a little girl maybe in medieval europe. i think that i managed to survive and get away from my captors, but lived a pretty impoverished life. in this life, i have a real complex about being aware of my surroundings. i need to be absolutely secure. also, when i was in elementary school, i liked to write stories all the time. one of the stories that i wrote was about a girl being kidnapped from her family's tent and forced into a life almost of prostitution? kind of a weird story for an elementary school aged child to make up. i only just recently remembered this story and connected it to the life.


    i was a man during world war I or II. i can't figure out which. i died in battle, in a trench, freezing cold with a bullet in my right leg and my head. i was very young. i think that i may have snuck into service. i think that i was french in this life, but when i did regression, i was german/prussian. my father was a printer and also my father from this life. we didn't like eachother very much. i believe that i ran away. i might have used the military as an escape from my problems at home. i have great, ridiculous respect for the military and get chills down my spine at battlefields. especially anything involving unknown soldiers. i think that i was a soldier many times and just haven't uncovered these other lives.


    This post and discussion is continued in the thread Your lives in review
     
  2. lonewolf

    lonewolf Senior Registered

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    The death of a little girl


    I did a regression last night that resulted in perhaps the strongest, most vivid memories I've had so far.


    Near the end of a session with a Buhlman CD, after various other memories, I suddenly saw a shabby artists' studio, late 1700s early 1800s, where a struggling painter was doing a portrait.


    I thought I was him but then I saw his model, a young girl 8-9 years old. She was very poor, and came in occasionally to pose for him in exchange for food and an opportunity to wear decent clothes as she usually wore rags.


    She left the studio. I saw her mother, a drunk. No father. The child struggled to survive by picking and selling flowers or other trinkets. Then the artist moved away, and she had nothing.


    I saw her walking, walking, walking through dirty streets (I think London, but maybe Paris). Then she lay down in a doorway on her side, and, now looking through her eyes, I gazed listlessly at the people and carriages going by as I slowly died of malnutrition and dysentery (which I felt).


    I felt her quiet stoicism, but also the utter indifference of everyone else, and when she (I) died I felt my soul released crying out with bitterness and outrage, and also such pity for the child. I was no more than 12 years old.


    I saw the year, 1808, I think of my death.


    Lonewolf


    This post and discussion is continued in the thread Death of a child
     
  3. Wizard

    Wizard New Member

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    Ancient place?One night earlier this year while meditating trying to retrive possible past life information, using sort of a visual form of meditating that I have, a picture of a unknown place suddenly appeared to me (I do this visual meditating with my eyes closed). The picture was of a pair of doors that were on a pathway which was on a hillside. I think there was some sort of tunnel or cave behind those doors. The doors looked like they were made of metal maybe iron? The doors had arched tops and grating like windows (which apparently contained no glass). The doors had vines growing around them and the hillside had something like shrubs growning on it.I have no idea of where this place was or a time period it was in. The only thing I could think of is that it sort of looked like some sort of Ancient Roman type thing, those doors sort of looked like Ancient Roman type of architecture. A few nights ago a memory came back to me, and this memory was of walking down this pathway with shrubs growing along side of it, and I do believe I remember seeing those same doors. I now remember that I had walked a long long way down that pathway (perhaps miles) and for for some reason I had to turn around and go all the way back in the direction I came from, and I think I went by those doors again, maybe I had been traveling and got lost. My direction of travel (using the picture as a reference) would be from right to left and then when I turned around and walked all the way back on the path, the direction was from the left to right. So I passed those doors twice. Those doors look like they could have been from Medieval times also. I used a computer graphics program to draw a rough picture (attached picture) of what those doors looked like, I used the computer mouse to draw the picture which was hard to do, so its a rough drawing but if you look at the picture you can get an idea of what I'm talking about. Click on the thumbnail picture to get a larger pictureWizard

    drs5.jpg

    /monthly_2006_10/drs5.jpg.f4a7697818ed69f65aee434efa754c75.jpg
     
  4. patrick1882

    patrick1882 New Member

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    Dying in the North Atlantic


    I have remembered parts of the life and death I am about to describe since childhood. Over the last year and a half I have taken these memories more seriously. I have brought all of my recollections together into the following story.


    I was Charles Mansford, a shipwright and marine architect, who died at sea in about 1850.


    I was a British subject that lived and worked in Nova Scotia. I had a partnership with a blacksmith/machinist. Together we retrofitted existing sailing ships with steam Engines. The engines did not provide propulsion they powered pumps and deck equipment like the windlass for raising the anchors.


    I was in my mid-thirties and was married to Anna who was thin and had a beautiful face and long dark curly hair. We had a young daughter named Sara, who also had long dark curly hair. I had red hair and a goatee like beard with no mustache. I liked to wear a reddish-brown leather apron when I worked. Sometimes I wore the apron when I was at home. We lived in a two story frame house with high gables and a rough limestone chimney.


    We repaired and refitted a British ship that was about 120 feet long and had a narrow pointed bow. I replaced a considerable amount of planking on the port side near the beam and just below the waterline. The planking I removed was mostly rotten but some short pieces were sound enough to reuse. I built a deck house for the engine and gave it a curved roof made from the planking. We made iron line shafts that ran under the deck from the engine to the pumps and winches.


    We were asked to sail to England on the ship to make certain everything was working properly. I remember saying goodbye in our kitchen, hugging Anna and going down on my knees to hug Sara.


    We sailed northeast to the Gulf Stream. We hoped to ride the current most of the way to England. Early one morning the ship was shaken with a loud thud as if she had hit a rock. The chain locker in the bow began to fill with water and the new steam powered pumps were put to good use. When the sun came up we could see that we had hit a small ship that was floating upside down in the current along side us.


    We cleared out all of the anchor chain and discovered that the planking was stove in on the starboard bow and the third, fourth and filth frames aft of the stem where broken.


    I fitted heavy timber braces to push the fames and planking back into place. It was difficult to work in the bow as it lifted and fell with the seas. So we headed to a inlet just west of the southern most tip of Greenland. As the tide went out we were left careened on the sand. The angle was steep but it was easier than riding the waves.


    I sistered timber to the fames using square headed bolts that my partner forged in the seam engine’s fire box. As the repair progressed the frames took on there original shape and the timber bracing became lose. The tide started to come in and the bow lifted. A large timber fell from above and struck me on the back of the head.


    The blow killed me instantly. After returning to the open sea I was sewn into some sail cloth with some of my tools at my feet and the bit brace I was using when I died over my heart.


    This post and discussion is continued in the thread Dying in the North Atlantic
     
  5. snoopy

    snoopy Charlie Brown's dog

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    I disgraced my family and gave birth alone


    I am a young girl around 15 or so. I am pregnant and deep in child birth but I am so tired and I am afraid and alone.


    I have a deep yearning for my mother which makes my heart break because she hates me for disgracing our family.


    I am in a small room alone and I am not married. I am very cold and the pain is unbearable making me shiver uncontrollably.


    My legs are bent up and they shake so badly back and forth and I feel the bed creak from the shaking.


    I don't know how much time passes but there was alot of blood that felt sticky beneath me soaking the mattress which did not have any sheets.


    It felt like one of those old army striped mattresses or something. I don't have many thoughts just emotions. Love fear Anger all flitted through my heart. I remember thinking what a waste.


    I smelled my own sweat and a sweet sickly smell that I can't really explain. I felt my body go limp and all I could think of was I was going to die. That was when I woke up.


    Snoopy


    This post and discussion is continued in the thread PL childbirth memory
     
  6. ~ Taylor ~

    ~ Taylor ~ New Member

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    Death of a Catholic Nun during the plague


    I don't remember too many deaths. The one that stands out is when I was a Catholic nun. I died during a great plague (don't know the year but it seems like medieval times).


    I was placed in a barn/wooden structure(?) on hay to finish dying along with the other dying people.


    As soon as I died I looked down at my body and noticed my face - I had never seen how I looked as mirrors were forbidden in my order.


    As I looked at my face I was astonished - I always felt I was very beautiful - I felt beautiful - and yet my face was rather plain.


    This post and discussion is continued in the thread How did you die?
     
  7. nakis

    nakis New Member

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    Tribal memory


    I was part of a tribe. I don't know where we were or particularly who we were. It was a large tribe of well over 100 people. We migrated from location to location during the seasons.


    From the position I was in, where I accessed the memories from, I was an elderly man.


    I was born a very healthy and strong male of the tribe. I was the fastest runner, best hunter, smart, instinctive, etc... .


    Over time and because of my skills and wisdom, I took over


    the leadership of the tribe. I was't the only leader since our tribe more or less shared leadership since we relied on the wisdom of all and especially the elders. But I did a lot of the directing. Where we went. What trails to take. I lead hunts.


    During one hunt as I got older, I was gored in the left leg. I recovered but as a result I had to mostly drag my leg.


    I was teaching my replacement. A good young man whom I felt was an excellent replacement for myself.


    It was a good life. We had our problems but life in our tribe was filled with good relations. Good times. And I always looked forward to walking over the next hill.


    I could see some of the forest areas. Some parts of our village. Playing with some of the children. I was the main leader but I loved playing with the children. As leader I had to always think of the future. And they were our future. I really loved everyone in our village. Of course we had our disputes. Arguements. Differences. But we almost always resolved them to a good end.


    This post and discussion is continued in the thread Hiking memory
     
  8. Bren

    Bren Senior Registered

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    What does spontaneous memory feel like?


    At about the age of 11, I came home form school one day to find my mom working on paint by numbers piece of a tall ship in rough waters. The painting brought back memories or something, for me with vivid emotions, as I looked at the painting I felt transported to another place. My mom, our kitchen disappeared every thing went black and pitchers flashed in my mind of a sea town and a dock a small dirty boy wearing torn clothing was hiding behind a pile of wooden crates watching as a ship of men unloaded.


    I felt the boy was hiding because he had stolen food and was hiding from the shopkeeper. At some point the boy felt safe enough to come out a man was kind to him I did not see his face only the he was wearing these tall shiny black boots. He spoke to the boy and gave him a coin. I feel that the boy continued to hang out at the docks because the next time I saw the man he was leaving on the boat and stopped to speak to the young boy again, this time he told the boy that maybe one day he could get a job on a ship like his and see faraway places.


    The boy watched the ship sail away the feeling of loneliness, and longing was almost overwhelming to me. I believe that this was the only kindness the boy ever been shown by anyone. The boy started to meet all the ships he kept hoping the man in the black boots would return he never did. Most of the men off the ships ignored the boy and some were cruel. However, one day a man on a ship did offer the boy a job on board his ship I do not know what job he did but I do know that the boy died on board from a fall. The men in the boat threw his body into the water. The buildings near the dock were brick or stone the street were packed dirt this was not a modern city or town. I feel there were many children that ran in a pack that were homeless like my little boy.


    I also feel there was an epidemic of a sort were many of the children lost there parents and the city or government could not or would not help these children. Anyway I came back to the present and my mom was looking at me like I had grown a second head, I had told her everything that I saw as I saw it. She ask me were I had heard that story before. The look on her face scared me so I told her I guess I just made it up. The feeling and pitchers I saw were so real and vivid it’s had never happened to me before and has not since.
     
  9. Bren

    Bren Senior Registered

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    Some of my everyday memories


    I had a dream of a boy of about 14 walking across a field with 3 or 4 other boys all around the same age, there is a tree line visible in front of them. The boy (that is me) has a long barrel gun lying on his shoulder and brown curly hair tie in a ponytail he has leather straps tied to small leather bag across his chest. It’s a beautiful sunny morning I can smell the grass and feel the heat from the sun on my head and I know that one of the boys is my cousin and best friend.


    Also from that life I see a girl of about 13 she is lovely, blond hair and clear blue eyes, she is dressed in a long dress with a bib apron over it. She smiles shyly at me and I feel like I could fly.


    I’m standing in a room that has columns running down the center, the wall are a dull golden color the bottom is a dull brick color. There are small windows cut into the walls near the ceiling, I know they are mostly for light. At the front of the room is a chair setting on a platform. I’m standing with my back to the wall near the entrance on the other side of the doorway is another girl, she stands still as a statue, heels and back pressed against the wall looking straight ahead I’m suppose to be doing the same thing, even though I know I will get in trouble if they see me I cant help but fidget and I look around the room not straight ahead. We’re not guards but more ornamental. I can tell that it’s a hot, dusty country the sun coming in from the doorway is intense. I can see my feet, they are brown and dusty. I feel I wear something on them but I can’t see any straps that could be sandals my dress is white and very light weight it stops well below my knees. I feel like I’m simple or maybe very young. Except for the whole standing still thing it’s pleasant here.


    I’m in the same life; I’ve been caught moving and looking around. I’ve been warned before about my fidgeting. I’m in the same room but now I’m near the front where the chair sits on a small platform there is a man setting in the chair behind him stands another man. They are both laughing and seem relaxed. I’m focused on the man standing, he has his elbow propped on the back of the chair he’s bald and holding his wig in his other hand, he has black smeared around his eyes. I know that he is in some way responsible for me the other man is very important not a king or anything but still a VIP. They are laughing about me. I feel relieved!


    It must have looked funny to visitors coming to see the man on the chair about some serious business to see his slave (?) fidgeting and looking all around. :laugh:


    This post and discussion is continued in the thread Everyday memories
     
  10. dark rosaleen

    dark rosaleen Senior Registered

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    My Sephardi Father


    Often, in my past-life memories, one person stands out clearly while others are indistinct. I remember my father from my Sephardi life (but still can't remember my own name.:confused: )


    He was stocky, dark, and had black hair and a beard--not unusual in that time and place.


    Once, when I was probably in early adolescence, I was walking past the house of people we knew slightly. I could hear from inside the house, the sound of the man beating his wife. At some point, I told my father. He said something like, "They aren't our concern. They aren't our kind."


    I took that to mean that because they were Gentiles, we had no responsibility to intervene in what they did. Had they been a Jewish family, it would have been a different matter; the community would have felt obligated to get involved and protect one of their own.


    I also remember "Agka," my uncle and father-figure from a Mongol life. He spent a lot of time horseback riding, and I loved to go with him.


    This post and discussion is continued in the thread Remembering Father
     
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