The past two weeks, actually the last two months have been a build up to a past life healing for me. Around about two months ago, I had a slight tickly cough and felt an immense heaviness in my chest. I assumed this was mostly due to the way the holiday season brings my grief to the surface as I consider another Christmas or new year beginning with Butch....and in truth, some of it was. However, this became all consuming, I struggled to breathe, as it caught in my throat and forced me to cough to create air intake.
As you know, I believe that whatever we are feeling or emoting at any given time is relative to the symptoms and signals we are receiving from our bodies. I knew the lungs was where my grief and heartache were centred, my frustration at life and feeling constricted or bound by the life I had, instead of the one I had planned. The throat is where we speak our truth, are heard or release our grief, so at the time it made perfect sense....until about two weeks ago!
Karen was doing an acutonics treatment on my back (which is relative to not feeling supported by the Universe - just saying!) one day and this awesome healing chant came on her ipod.
I had a sense of many people in the room, and later we discussed various things that had happened during the treatment - the blockages I was experiencing, where and why; the extra pair of hands on my forehead; the music that totally resonated with me and how I hadn't coughed once during the treatment (and many others that I can't remember).
I asked Karen if I might borrow the CD with the healing chant on it, and I felt there was some kind of urgency attached to it. Of course she agreed - thats what good friends do! ☺
I took it back with me and as soon as I was in the door, I had it playing in my laptop. I became quite fixated with this hour long chanting, playing it over and over, wondering why I felt as if I should know the words, as I could certainly feel the emotion behind it. I even played it before I went to sleep, hoping my guides would give me some insight or advice. Nothing.
Two days later, I was having breakfast, with my feet dangling in my current house-sits pool, listening to the the chant. Water is a great conductor for emotion. Next thing I was given a visual of a group of people standing on a hill, chanting, while their assailants rode around them, killing them as they stood. I felt that these were a peaceful people and they had chosen not to war with them, instead singing in unison to prove that they would not be changed by those that were around them. I also had the impression it was in 1890, and happened around Christmas time, hence the extra emphasis on my grief this time.
(If you are wondering why I never noticed it in other Christmases, I believe it is because I wasn't ready for it or open to it until this year....and possibly I would have struggled to differentiate between the grief I already felt with Butch's passing)
I could see the chief/leader, and he was only wearing a single feather or headdress, which I felt was strange given that I would have thought he would have had the big regal one - but then, would that have been tantamount to a challenge in a very aggressive way - who knows? He was very tall, almost freakishly tall.
I sat there crying my heart out as I saw those I once loved fall around me...and then the vision stopped. I wanted more! I tried everything, but nope, apparently I wasn't ready for the rest of this story yet.
I kept listening to the healing chant continuously, feeling a sense of peace that I couldn't explain. However, my breathing and heaviness got worse. I had various excuses for it, cutting back on various types of foods, concentrating on my vege juice and immunity supplements. When I coughed I felt like I was turning inside out! I made my never fail cough mix to help prevent the coughing which had made my throat raw and sore. It eased the throat, but the cough just got worse.
Christmas night onwards, I felt like I was truly dying. I know that sounds dramatic, but the coughing was leaving me light-headed, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't talk, I couldn't sleep, and I felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest, who only moved when I doubled up in pain.
Finally the 27th came and I could get a doctors appointment... As I spoke about my symptoms and the lead up (without explaining the spiritual side of it, of course) to that day, he smiled and nodded. I had asthma! I have never had asthma, so I found that quite interesting...and annoying.
All day I thought about what asthma meant to me. I had established the sore throat was merely an on going effect of the asthma - coughing to produce air obviously inflamed my throat.
Asthma tells me I don't want to be here, that I am done. I feel suffocated, angry, unable to vent my emotions, deeply depressed and grief devastated. I pulled faces at this thought, as it didn't quite fit how I believed I felt.
This morning, as I was pondering this and listening to the chant. I was given the final part of the vision. I was a young girl of around 10 or 12 when this massacre had happened. As my people were falling around me, my brother had thrown me on the ground to protect me, landing on top of me when he was killed. I was SO angry. I wanted my chance to die with pride and he had cheated me out of that! I fought against the dead weight of his body until I was so exhausted, I could move no more. Our 'enemies' left, not realising I was still alive.
I wasn't shown what happened after that, but I get a huge sense of displacement, intense anger, feeling cheated out of a glorious death, losing everyone I loved and forced to live a life I would never have chosen. I wanted to scream at my brother for what he did, but that would have disrespected his spirit and the love he had shown.
A couple of days ago I went on facebook to ask if anyone knew of a massacre that took place in 1890, without the group fighting back, and was told of the Massacre at Broken Knee (my knee just happened to be one of the blockages I had when Karen did the treatment - a hint perhaps?!). It took place on the 29th December!
Now I can't say unequivocally that this is where it took place, because my inner skeptic refuses to take anything at face value without heaps of  evidence. (and skepticism is healthy!) The chief was tall and although it doesn't appear he was wearing a single feather on that day, here is a picture I found. His name was
Miniconjou Chief Big Foot, meaning 'Touch the Clouds'.
Perhaps this needed to be healed before the actual date, or maybe there is more to the story, who knows?!
Today I feel peaceful, at peace and grateful for the ability to breathe once again.
...and it all started with a cough and a healing chant....
Who knows what past lives we carry within us that can be healed and accepted? We have all been here many times before, it makes sense we carry soulular and cellular memories. After all, can you remember something from Christmas Day that touched or upset you? Memories are powerful things.
with love, respect and integrity
Cherie xx
PS. As a by the by, I have established who my brother was in that lifetime, and now understand why every time I see him, I feel an irrational sense of betrayal, anger and sadness.
This also explains why I have taken to plaiting my hair a lot more and in a different way in the past two months. I have always loved all things from this culture, but have felt myself strongly drawn to clothing, etc that pertained to this lifetime in a way I couldn't explain before.... Interesting stuff, hey?

As some of you may know, I do housesitting. I love the variety that it brings into my life. I get to visit areas and places that I wouldn’t normally. If there is a dog to walk, by the time I leave, I have a reasonably good idea of where I am and how to find certain streets/places – extremely handy for someone like me who is directionally challenged.

I love the energy of other people’s homes, and I will admit, in some cases, I have cleared their homes of spirits that weren’t there for their highest good. I also let others be, because it is not up to me to decide whether they come or go. If they need help I’m sure they could get it, one way or another.

Originally, it was a great way to rediscover my gypsy roots, long forgotten under a pile of lists and forward planning. I loved the idea about learning to be spontaneous and relatively carefree. I have met some beautiful souls, spirit, human and animal.

I also learnt how to downsize and recognise what was truly important to me, and what was best released or removed from my life.

It was daunting at first and I was so stressed as I contemplated not knowing where I would be, sometimes from week to week…

Everybody is different, all housesits are unique, each animal(s) special in its own individual way. Each animal I have housesit for has held a place in my heart, and sometimes I am more than sad to say farewell to them. They all teach me a lesson of sorts. Through them, I have had lessons on stamina, trust, capability, joy, peace, tranquility and unconditional love.

Each kitchen is set up differently. Right down to the dishbrush, each person has a different view of how an efficient and happy kitchen is run….and every one of them works!

As I was doing the dishes this morning and mastering a strange shaped dishbrush, a thought struck me. Being a housesitter has encouraged me to see others as they are and to leave them that way. I don’t have to tell them which is the best implement, how to clean their home, where things should go or what they should use. Their way is perfect for them. It may not suit me, but I only have to do it their way for a brief moment in time. I don’t have to like their way and I don’t need to get my own way.

And you know what…that’s how it is with life. We don’t need to love or even like what other people do. It is not up to us to choose who is right or wrong – because we are all right. We all do what is right for us and what is perfectly normal for our ‘self’.

Sometimes it is better to take the focus off what we believe is the right and true way and accept that we will all be different. We will all approach things differently and none of us is wrong.

When we can begin to accept that this is the truth of the matter, that this is a major clincher on our life path, we are better able to accept others as they truly are, instead of who we want them to be.

…and all that from doing the dishes….!

With love, respect and integrity
Cherie xx

About 20 years ago, I developed a back injury. At the time I was unhappy in my 'going nowhere' job, but I didn't have the guts to take that leap of faith and resign.
The Universe stepped in. As I was lifting an empty box, I felt a twang in the back of my heel. Nothing painful, it felt as if someone had snapped a rubber band and flicked the back of my foot. After a couple of days of strange tingling sensations, I decided to go and see the doctor. The doctor could see nothing major wrong with me, although he did mention one leg was slightly shorter than the other. As such he couldn't refer me to a specialist, so he suggested I try a few of his 'other colleagues' to see if we could resolve the issue. First I went to a physiotherapist, who insisted I should be able to put my feet behind my ears, and did his utmost best to prove it was true. He would push my leg straight up and lean into me with all his weight. He called me a wimp as I cried tears of pain. After two visits, I had had enough of him and went back to the doctor.
Next I visited a reflexologist, who, as it turned out was much more interested in replacing his mistress, as she would be moving soon. (His wife was his receptionist and only in the next room! Tact, much?) One visit was enough to give this charlatan a wide berth...and a good thing too, now that I am older and wiser and realise that never once did he touch my feet!
By this time I was getting shooting pains down the back of my legs and experiencing alternating bouts of numbness and sharp pain in my right heel. My doctor suggested an acupuncturist. Bad idea! It turns out that needles and I didn't work so well together. I would stagger home bleeding and bruised after each appointment. In those days I didn't have the balls to say I wasn't returning, so it took five visits before I 'grew' some. On my fifth visit, he told me he was very excited because he was going to teach some new students and could he video me to demonstrate how to do the needles. He said I merely needed to agree it hurt every spot he touched. Some time later I was very much a pincushion, he packed up his video camera and took it to the other end of the office. I lay there for an interminably long time, waiting for him to return and remove the needles, my bladder sending me urgent messages. Did I call out? Not on your life! About 50 minutes later he walked past the door and said 'Are you still here? You can get dressed and leave.' I won't tell you what I said, but let me tell you, he was my first lesson in knowing what was right for me, what was wrong, and saying 'My body. My choice.' Prior to that, I had believed anyone in a white coat was an authority on my body.
As I stumbled across to the other side of the road, one of the shop owners suggested I stop going there, as I seemed to stagger over and almost crawl back. Not a good advertisement they said jokingly. There was no way I was ever going back anyway.
After that, I began having issues with my nerve endings and lower back pain. The doctor, telling me he still couldn't refer me, suggested I go to his osteopath friend. Ahhh, how naive I was in those days.... I assumed an osteopath was like a remedial massage therapist - no body cracking here!
About ten minutes into my appointment, the whole street would have heard how surprised I was when he picked me up and 'dropped me', cracking and I was almost certain, demolishing my spine. My friend kindly told me that she had heard the expletive I screamed out from the coffee shop next door! Thats what friends are for, apparently!
By the time I went to see the doctor again, I was struggling to walk. My back was aching continually and he had to prescribe me some pain killers and anti inflammatory tablets to help me get through the day.
By the time I did manage to get a referral to see a specialist, I was wearing a brace 24 hours a day, having to wear heel pads to avoid the nauseous feeling I got while walking, on extremely strong pain killers and unable to walk/stand or sit for any period of time. I couldn't wear shoes with 'backs' on them, and certainly no heels. All the 'work' everybody had done on me had exacerbated my problem. I was told I was but a fine line away from being in a wheel chair.
Now I'm not telling you all this to get sympathy, I am merely trying to set the scene for you.
Although I managed to make improvement to my lifestyle with exercise, etc, I was still in a bad way. I still wore my special heel pads, everywhere...
About ten years later, thanks to some synchronistic opportunity, I met a past life healer. I decided I would 'give it a whirl'. The first visit, she told me about a past life when I had worked in Egypt and helped to build the pyramids. A large slab had slipped and sliced off the back of my right heel. This made sense to me, when I considered the alternating pain and numbness of my heel. The healer told me I would feel a marked improvement the next day. I was skeptical to say the least and wasn't surprised when it hadn't improved as completely as she had told me it would. A week later I was looking at one of my old dream notebooks and found an entry I had written when I was in my twenties. I was a young boy in Egypt, with aspirations of being an architect. I would draw in the fading light on whatever I could. The dream confirmed other facts the healer had mentioned, which was awesome and mind boggling!
I had another past life healing and we talked about my dream and a few other pertinent details that obviously needed to address.
The next morning I woke up and bolted out of bed, remembering I had visitors coming soon and I needed to do some baking. I raced down to the supermarket, and was halfway around before I realised I could feel the sensation of my thong under my heel. Anyone watching me would have seen this woman with a dopey smile on her face, as she 'walked with intention'.
So, just in case you didn't work it out, I never wore the heel pads again. I had only been taking the medication periodically at that stage...I have never taken it again. My point is, all the medical professionals in the world couldn't fix the problem with  my heel, because it was a soulular and cellular memory. My body/soul remembered this past life injury and had replicated it around the same age that it had happened within that lifetime. I didn't need to spend masses of money, dedicate half my life meditating or be healed over a period of years. All I needed to do was acknowledge that this was my truth, to release my old way of being and thinking, to allow that past life with all its issues, to just 'be' and let them go.
We have been here many times. We have specific memories that we hold onto, that may be holding us back, whether its an injury or a vow we have taken during that lifetime. By discovering what happened in a prior lifetime, we are better able to understand why we act or feel certain ways within our present journey.
with love, respect and integrity
Cherie xx