Chapter Five
Two of the worst World Wars in History
“You can affect your character by your thoughts, your feelings, whether you give way to them or master them; whether you determine to live in a life which is grand or one which is reverse. You effect your whole character thereby, and thus effect your destiny.”
(G. dePurucker - Studies in Occult Philosophy; pg 59)
*******The Passive Process***
I began writing about my past life experiences in the year 2000, fifteen years after my first experience and had dedicated myself to one year of research. At the time I possessed a lot of self assurance and determination. I had received my Masters in Fine Arts Degree and was a part time College instructor passionate about my art and activism for children’s issues. But on Easter day 2001 my marriage of thirteen years had come to an end. What followed is very difficult to explain, but anyone who has gone through a divorce knows the feeling. I had been through it twice before, this would be my third divorce. My heart was shattered, my inner light dimmed. I felt I was on an island in the middle of the ocean, alone and abandoned. The feeling of being alone was all too familiar, and my soul -remembered. At the time, it was an incredible blow to my psyche, yet it would catapult me onto the path of consciously Becoming.
My research led me to the work of Dr. Ian Stevenson, a professor of psychiatry at the University of Virginia Medical School. He began researching reincarnation in 1960, and after 43 years of investigation retired in 2003; sadly he passed away in 2007. His careful and meticulous review includes studies from all over the world and he has documented cases on every continent except Antarctica. He specifically researches children who speak spontaneously of their past lives. The professional manner in which he has conducted his research is fascinating, and includes thousands of cases which he has thoroughly reviewed and analyzed. Stevenson notes that spontaneous past life recall is so relatively common with children, that the number of cases that seem worth considering, far surpasses his staff’s ability to investigate them all. The volumes of case studies Stevenson has recorded, and his reputation as a careful and thorough investigator has earned him the respect of several distinguished scientific periodicals, including the Journal of the American Medical Association. Anyone looking for proof of reincarnation should take the time to review his work, the evidence speaks for itself. Some of My Journeys in Medicine -A Lecture about Science and Reincarnation
tevenson suggests that, “although we are the creators of our own lives and to a certain extent, our own bodies, our participation in this process is so passive as to be almost involuntary.”(1) (#219 - Holographic Universe.) This was certainly true for me. I could see the patterns that played out from life time to life time, but I was also painfully aware that my process had been passive. My memories of Alexander‘s life with the Indians reflected trauma, anger and the distress of a life ending on the Trail of Tears. As Alexander, my thoughts, feelings and emotions led me to my next life as a young black woman named Clara, living during the Civil War. Clara’s life was filled with suffering, fear and anger due to the horrors of slavery; her life cut short by a mob lynching, punishment for a crime she did not commit.
Why do so many of us get caught in the magnetism of negative feelings, emotions and thoughts that create life times of distress, abuse, and neglect? When I reflect on my past life memories as Clara -- a strong black woman in 1891, I can still feel her determination - her will to make things alright in her world. She wanted safety, security and a place to call home. The very issues that would follow into my next life as a young woman living in Italy; a woman who faced imaginable losses, loneliness and two of the worst world wars in history.
**** Memories of Home****
The memories of Italy began in 1992. I was born in 1900 and I lived not far from the northern border between Italy and Austria. I was again born as a girl, the oldest of three children. My family owned a vineyard nestled on a hillside near a small town. I had a father, a mother, a little sister and brother. I had a family. My childhood in Italy was one of love and laughter, filled with a sense of culture and belonging. I was very happy. I attribute this to Clara’s love for her children and being drawn to a family whose love resonated with her/my own. The memories of Italy would come during dreams, meditations and selective awareness sessions. During this time however, there was always the feeling that the most important memories of Italy would not come until later, and that my biggest lessons where yet to be learned. I had been married to my third husband for four years when the memories began to surface. I often felt that “I had the experience...but missed its meaning,” so I faithfully recorded my meditations into my journals describing my life as a young girl living in Italy at the turn of the century. Journaling memories, however brief, can become very valuable years later. It was the little things, the daily life of a young girl in Italy that meant so much to me. There was nothing fantastic, extraordinary or otherworldly about my experiences ....only memories of another time and place, a place I called home.
The meditation began; the light slowly pulsated within my inner vision; violet -blue swirling forms of light. I am a young girl, I am in the family room of my home, my father is playing a guitar and my mother is playing our piano. We are all clapping our hands in tempo, stomping our feet and singing along. I was about seven or eight years old. .......then without warning - the time and location changed. I am playing outside by an olive tree. I can hear someone calling us to come in, my sister and I, ....“Valeria” ---Valeria”...that’s me!
My awareness moved back into the house. I look around at everyday objects within the home; the icebox in the kitchen is so small. The upright piano sits at the far side of the kitchen in a well lit area of the house which also served as a family room. My father’s guitar had handmade strings and was kept by the fireplace in the main sitting room. The back door of the house was actually two separate halves; it could be opened on the top with the bottom half still closed or visa-versa. The doorway was arched with a brass round handle and the door was made of wood.
Time and place shift again and without warning. I am nine years old and outside near the big vats that the grapes are put into. I am holding my skirt up and look down to my feet, I am barefoot. My hair is up in a ponytail. I am stomping grapes in a large wooden vat. There are several children with me; we are singing a song and stomping our feet. We stomped and danced in a circle giggling in-between the verses. What a mess! My feet are purple! I am laughing so hard the tears are running down my cheeks -- we are having so much fun!
Time changes....I am in my room upstairs. My bed is made of rod iron - the ceiling is vaulted, almost “A” framed.....but not quite, it’s a very strange shape. I watch as my father carries my little sister into our room... we share a room. He carefully puts her into her bed. She had fallen asleep down stairs. He is wearing a white shirt, brown pants and suspenders. He is a gentle man, very loving and kind. My sisters’ bed is by the door, and mine is across from hers. I walked over to my dresser, and stood in front of the mirror. I am thin, and have dark wavy air. I studied my face for some time, it was me-but didn’t look like “me”…....it was a very strange feeling. The mirror is oblong and has a small desk with dresser drawers up the left side; it is about 4 feet tall – as tall as I am.
Time shifts again -- I am much older. I am standing in the same family room we once sang songs in. I am looking at a photograph of my uncle on the fireplace mantel; the same mantel, the same photograph I saw as a child. I am all alone, I am remembering my family, the music my mama played on her piano, and how we sang together in that same room. A tear rolls down my check - within the memory -- and now in the meditation. I know they are all gone, and I am .........alone.
**********World War I & II*********
In the summer of 1994, I decided to do another session with my mother. Especially after my last mediation and the feelings that surfaced of being alone. I sensed that something traumatic had happened and that it would be difficult for me to do the session by myself. It took me a couple of years to get around to it, but the feelings were intensifying, and the need to remember becoming stronger. A couple of nights before meeting with mom, I had a vision of myself as a young girl with dark long waving hair at the turn of the century. Then the vision changed, I was 45 years old, it was the end of WWII. My hair was wrapped neatly within a bandana; I wore an old apron over a knee length skirt and I had big old shoes on my small feet. I knew this vision was me...that the younger woman and the older woman were one in the same.
There was an awareness that I felt during these visions that was different from my previous experiences. I was seeing myself from a third person perspective; I was outside of myself - watching myself. My consciousness was viewing “me” from an objective point of view. This sometimes happens when memories are spontaneous. Often, if the vision continues, my consciousness will merge with the vision and I am within the person I was viewing. In other words, I am experiencing the past life first from a perspective outside of myself; then my consciousness moves within...and I am that person, I am aware that every thought, every action, every emotion is mine.
My next session with mom would reveal much more than I had experienced so far. Again, it was the fine details, the little things that were important to me. Mom set the tone of the session with soft Tibetan Bell music. Her house was always very quiet due to the fact that she lived on 20 acres set way back on a country road. She never said much before we started, she just allowed me to go as deep as I needed into an altered state. Yet I was always aware that she too entered an altered state in order to observe and help me on my journey.............
My body tingled as the inner vibrations within my body intensified, and...... I entered into the light. I am in Italy; I went straight to my bedroom. I am about nine years old. My father has carried my little sister up the stairs and put her in her bed, just as I had seen before. But this time I remembered other details, loving caring details that mean so much. He tucked her into her bed ever so carefully, and gently kissed her cheek goodnight. As he bent over her I noticed he had no beard or mustache and his hair was beginning to gray. I watched as he turned and walked toward me, then he quietly whispered something into my ear; words laced with love.
Time shifts, it is the next day; I am at a celebration in our vineyard. Music is playing and all the people are happy. I am standing by a large stone fence and wearing a very fancy dress. The length was just below my knees, and is a beautiful pastel blue, trimmed with white lace. There is a huge olive tree which was hanging over the stone fence in the front yard; it supplied shade for several guests. I climbed up on the fence, pretending it was a balance beam. My uncle is holding my hand as I walked the fence line to the other end. I feel very happy and secure; it is a good feeling, a wonderful feeling, of family and home.
Suddenly time jumps forward to a few years later. I find myself arguing fiercely with my father. I have an Italian temper. He stood in the arched doorway inside of our house. The top half of the door was open, the bottom half shut. I am outside and very frustrated with him and he is frustrated with me. I am looking into his eyes hoping to see a holographic projection, but I do not recognize him, not like the others who are in my life now. Nothing except I felt he loved me and I loved him. He was in his mid forties and quite the head of the house hold. It seemed to me that there was a large generation gap between us and a lot of cultural issues that I didn't agree with. I felt the presence of a younger brother and sister looking on, but I was the oldest - in my teenage years.
My awareness shifted......... I seem to be in a void, nothing is happening, only the awareness of a young German Pilot who was shot down near the vista point where I live. I know all about him, and what happened to him. Suddenly he came into view; he was in his early twenties, possibly twenty-two. He was blonde with blue eyes, about 5'll" and well built. I looked into his eyes...his soul....he was my husband now - Patrick. My mother confirmed my awareness almost as if she could hear my question telepathically -“is it really him?” a question I did not verbalize at the time. Just as I had the thought she replied - "This young man is Patrick.” Yes ... It was a wonderful validation to hear her speak those words -- only moments after I had the realization.
Sometimes when I “see’ people, places or events in a past life, the ‘knowing’ becomes multi-layered, as if one memory is woven with others in order to give more complete information, a larger picture of circumstances. But it’s hard to express in words, this knowing, it happens simultaneously, in an instant. For example, the argument with my father was about things I knew had happened -- without experiencing the actual events in the regression. I knew I had found a German Pilot after his plane was shot down. I knew I hid him in my father’s barn. When my father found out he was furious with me. There was later a lot of regret, I was sorry I had done it. I felt the regret deeply when I was older and alone. So deeply I would wear my father’s old boots to remind me when I worked in the vineyards. I would remember my childhood often. I would walk the vista, and the ruins of the nearby town, looking at old stone structures that had long since been destroyed by the war.
It was an interesting session. My mother listened to me tell her of my experience, then she would add little things I already knew but had not articulated yet. As I explained to her my feelings and visions and expressed the details, we both received confirmation after confirmation of both her visions and my past life experiences.
After the session she asked me if I knew what had happened to my family, but she didn’t tell me until I had expressed my feelings. I told her that I felt like I never got a chance to tell my father that I loved him or to amend our differences and that he had died. Upon this realization, I felt the confusion of war, the loss of my whole family; they had all died in a bombing! Tears rolled down my cheeks as I remembered how they were all killed. I was no longer in an altered state - but the memories surfaced regardless.
Mom explained her vision of what had happened, "Your home town was bombed by the Germans, your father, mother, brother and sister were all killed. You stayed home that day and had seen the bombing from the “vista" point on the hillside where the family grapes grew. You lived there your whole life, alone.” My mother then added that a few months before the Germans bombed my home town, which killed my family, the German pilot- (Patrick) was leaving our vineyard on a motorcycle which had a side car seat. Several German soldiers had come to pick him up, but as they sped away American planes had came in and bombed them on the opposing hillside. That too she said - I witnessed from that same vista point. I could see it, in my inner vision as she spoke. Funny thing is I still can. I had hidden him in the barn for several months. He said he loved me and had promised me that he would return. Instead I saw him killed.
I wrote everything down in my journal that afternoon, including what my mother had experienced. I was able to put into perspective the emotional trauma I had felt earlier. I saw the German pilot killed by Americans from the vista point, and soon after that my family was killed by Germans in the nearby town. I felt I had betrayed my father and his instructions not to aid the Germans. The Germans had killed my entire family and I internally blamed myself. With this came guilt, and a sorrow that stayed with me my entire life.
*****Truly a Blessing*****
Non-local knowing is communication that is received or exchanged, but not physically expressed or articulated. Etymologically; the word consciousness is derived from the word scire (to know) andcum (with). The term implies a nonlocal knowing; in order to know with somebody we have to share a nonlocal connection with that person. It is an amazing opportunity to be able “to know with” one another - details from past lives. It is truly amazing that my memories and my mother’s visions contain the same intimate details. My shared experiences with my mother expanded my opportunity for healing, forgiveness and understanding.
After this session I decided to explore my past lives in meditation by myself. I never wanted to be dependent on my mother’s abilities, and felt it was important for me to develop and strengthen my own inner vision. However, it was her abilities that helped me understand Inner Light, and to know where to look for clues from my past lives as I experienced them. She told me to look down to see what I was wearing, and to stay present and embrace every moment. She suggested that before doing a meditation I should form a question which was directly focused on current feelings, thoughts or emotions that were surfacing. The questions needed to be “soul” questions not based on material things, but should be requests for understanding, compassion, forgiveness or empathy. What surfaced was never what I expected and days, weeks, and even years later, I can still close my eyes and see the people, the surroundings and my home in Italy. The strangest thing is -- it feels as if it was just yesterday and is truly a blessing.