What do you Think?

I saw my grandpa on the night he died, he was standing over me looking down. I was terrified at the time, hid under the covers until morning, praying that God would make him go away.

I loved my grandpa dearly, but knew his body had been taken from the house, I knew he was at the undertakers. I never mentioned it to my Gran, his partner of over fifty years. As an Irish Catholic I think she might have washed my mouth out and certainly wouldn’t have believed me. I didn’t offer to stay another night and any times I stayed following that night, I always hopped in with my Gran. I never saw him again but have often been told he is with me.

I believe in life after death, you’ve probably gathered that by now if you’re a regular reader of my blog, but I have so many questions. One of these questions is, if a body has been disposed of, how can it look the same? Sometimes I believe, or have heard, they might look younger, healthier, happier. But why do we see them as they once were when they have left their bodies. Is it the energy we recognise, our brain doing the rest, or is it them, does a spiritual body have some sort of form?

After my mother died, I sat up for nights looking for her, I was sure she would appear, I’d asked her to come back but she didn’t. I think maybe my childhood fear closed the shutters. I think I have prevented myself from ever seeing anything quite like this again.

I’ve seen other things, people I don’t know, but not in the same way. Although they might look like they are in the room, I know they are in my head, it’s different. After my cat died she jumped on the bed a few times, the last time I kept my eyes closed hoping she would stay and she padded all around me before disappearing again. I think she came to let me know she was okay, just as my grandpa did.

I’ve seen a Buddhist Monk and a Big Warrior sort of guy, I don’t know them. I see or sense people who aren’t really there, can’t be seen by anyone else, but never like grandpa.

Sometimes when I’m in bed, I’m tickled, touched I think. It’s like a stroke, the most gentlest stroke, sometimes like a spiders web across my face or hand.

Now for reincarnation, I’m a firm believer in this too. I regress people and take them into future possible lives. I’ve been regressed and seen the men and women I have been. So if we live so many lifetimes, why do we look like the last if we come back like grandpa? I’m not sure I make sense, let’s try again. If I have one soul, but many bodies, surely they are all part of me, so I would look like a mixture of them all. Or is it my soul would look like me to anyone who knew me in this life, but different if I was visiting a past life in France?

It’s all bloody fascinating, I’m intrigued but suppose I’ll only ever know for sure when I get there and that’s if I’m right. I’ve sort of come to the conclusion it’s all energy, we recognise the energy and our human brains do the rest. The people I don’t know, like the monk, I put his energies into the form I recognised. I’m not sure from where, maybe a different life. Or maybe my soul, knows him, maybe my soul recognised him as a monk.

No I’m cheating a bit on the daily post today, although my grandpa was my grans partner. I haven’t got a partner to chew this over so I though I’d ask what you think. It would be great if someone could answer my questions or at least give them a go.

This is how my mind works when I’m procrastinating. I should be packing for my house move on Tuesday not working out the whys and wherefores of life and death!

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

Love is just a Word

I’ve been thinking about karmic relationships quite a bit lately. Those people we keep coming back with to resolve or learn something, the people who come along with us to help us with our lessons.

I don’t think they come back for us but at the same time, they are on their own paths too, with their own lessons. It’s just that the paths are intertwined somehow, their lives and ours wrapped up together for a while.

There’s purpose, everyone we meet is meant to be, even the meetings of moments, the person who picks up a dropped glove, the person who stops to let you cross the road, it’s all in the play.

I call it a play, because that’s sort of what it is, all the actors are in place, but we improvise, there isn’t a script, we can decide where we go with each meeting. I can smile at the man who picks up my glove and make his day or frown because the glove is wet and ignore his kindness. Each of these actions will have a different impact, each will change his day.

I don’t necessarily believe in chance meetings, I think they are destined, it’s what we do after, that changes the course of events. If I’m supposed to meet you on 17th November 2017, I will, how I get there will depend on what I do today or tomorrow, you too, but we will meet. Mind boggling, isn’t it, but it’s what I believe.

People come in and out of our lives, some stay, some move through quite quickly, each of them change us in some way. They change us through their actions and our responses, as we do them. It’s all in the plan, the plan we once knew about but forgot.

I think we come here to learn and perfect certain qualities, like kindness, compassion, empathy and love. To learn we have to be presented with situations that teach, through situations that are not alway easy, we help each other.

My dad has always talked about his mother not loving him, he never felt loved by her and she never told him she loved him. My dad because of this has always found it difficult to express love himself, I’d go as far to say understand love in the real sense of the word. That’s funny, it’s not a word, but until we know love it is just a word. I think they will come back together again, I told him this earlier and he looked horrified. My dad thinks he has made an agreement with the almighty that he will be born again with his late wife in Australia, who am I to argue!

That got me thinking about my relationships, who I might have travelled with through many lifetimes. My mum, sister and son for sure as I know their souls and my dad too because that has been a learning experience for both of us. Who else, I don’t know, my best friends, certainly. But what about those that have caused pain, hurt me or betrayed me, what about those I have hurt, yes we will meet again, we will be given another chance to get things right.

I want to make the most of all the relationships I have in life, those before me anyway. I would also like to let go of past hurts, recognise them for what they were and take the lessons with me.

I’ve seen someone in regressions, they are different people but the same soul. I want to stroke their face each time and that’s not something I would do. I’ve not met this person this time yet, I wonder about them, will I meet them or will I have to wait.

Mentally I want to make peace with all those I’ve known, those that have moved on, those I’m no longer in contact with. I want to have learnt from the experience, I want it to be okay, for them too.

I could go on rambling, but I won’t, I’ll save it for when we meet on 17th November ūüėČ

~

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

Impression of a Flower

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The flower whispered in my ear,

it was so close to me.

Heard it speak inside my head,

it wished to help me see.

For flowers grow as they do,

flowers come from love.

The flower told me gently,

it came down from above.

To work with mother nature,

to show us how to live.

To remind us of our promise,

in life we have to give.

Relying on the rains that fall,

the sunshine in the sky.

The flower is our teacher here,

the flower doesn’t lie.

It shows us how to open up,

to let things fall away.

To bow our heads at nightfall,

to wait another day.

Flowers feed all sorts of bees,

teach us how to share.

Doesn’t hold onto its pollen,

to give yourself is to care.

The flowers isn’t afraid of death,

knows it will return.

Always being springs to see,

lots more here to learn.

The flowers think we’re stupid,

in a sort of kindly way.

Not knowing we’re connected,

really don’t have a say.

We keep returning to the earth,

we get it wrong again.

Don’t understand our lessons,

judge them just as pain.

We remember more as babies,

but forget so very soon.

Unlike the gentle flowers,

we loose it when we bloom. 

It gave me a strong impression,

that it wanted to help me see.

So I would write a poem right here,

on how flowers want us to be.

~

Impression

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

 

The Field

Life is like walking barefooted across a field. Wild flowers spread out across the field in front of us, some in the sunshine and those under the tree. Each flower we come across is a different experience, a person we meet, a moment in time.

Each flower is a lesson, a message from the divine, a memory coming to the surface. We cannot possibly experience each and every flower, there are too many to encounter, some will be here next time we cross. 

Make the most of each flower you see on your way across the field, look closely at it, see how it shimmers in the sun, listen to it but do not pick it. As you reach the other side, take a deep breath, hold onto what you have learnt, it may be a while before you cross again.

~ Liza

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Meaningless

I don’t want my life to be meaningless, how many times have we heard that, but it’s true, I don’t. Then what is meaningless and to who does it mean nothing? I think every life must mean something, even those we can’t find the meaning in.

I’m a regression therapist, well that’s one of the things I do. Because of this, I realise I’m more than the person I am today, I am everybody I have ever been. That helps with the ego a bit because it’s not all about me, the person I am today, it’s about those other parts of me stored in my subconscious. Everyone I have ever been or might be is with me now, I know that’s hard to get your head around. ¬†My soul has travelled, it’s learnt and spent time on many a meaningless pursuit.

When I was regressed a few years back, I visited several lives, my favourite a doctor who kept a journal of his findings, I loved him. Then there was this one woman I saw, it was me, I had no time for her, I didn’t like her because she had wasted her life, it had been meaningless. Now as I think about her today, was it so meaningless if my visiting her, helped me see I wanted a purpose in this life. ¬†Interesting isn’t it, can we waste a life to help another, now there’s a thought!

Daily Prompt – Meaningless

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The Emperor

The shackles of time adorn his feet and yet he is young.  He waits patiently for he knows that the gods will not hurry, he is but one in a universe of waiting.  His seat is old and yet warm with the memories of those that have gone before, it will remain in these realms and serve as the throne of another.  Although young in this life he has travelled here before, learning each time but will come again.  The impatient youth of another lifetime went on before him, this time he is patient, knowing, at peace with himself.  He has had company on his travels and left his mark in the places he has visited.  His ghost remains on the earth and the people whose path he has crossed have an indent of his being on their soul.   He is a thoughtful man, when he speaks it is with clarity, boldly speaking his truth.  The eagle, adorned with golden feathers is ready to fly having lived many lifetimes with the man, the bird will wait for his return but for now it prepares its feathers for the next flight.  There are no possessions on this plateau except the memories and lessons of this life reflected in an orb of light in his right hand.  The young man looks into this as he waits, reflecting, thinking and listening to the universe.

lizalizaskysaregrey©2016

Something I wrote some years back, I’m not sure what I was thinking at the time of writing but found it interesting when I read it back again today.