Why I’m Voting For Donald Trump

This is the comment I left on the linked post, a comment  which will be either removed or abused: “I am a female, race does not matter. I am a survivor of sexual abuse. I was raised in the Christian church but left it because of sexual abuse in the church. And I don’t believe you. I don’t believe your abuse, or you wouldn’t be able to support a man who has made it clear how he feels about women, as objects for him to use or abuse. I don’t believe you are a follower of Jesus, no matter what your membership card in a church might say. I think you are lost and want attention because you don’t know what to do with yourself. You think he’s going to take care of you. No. This is all about him. You are a doormat for him. That is your choice. And by making that choice, you abuse yourself. I choose to support a woman who has been abused for who she is, and has risen above the abuse. She’s a good role model. You are not.”

Source: Why I’m Voting For Donald Trump

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Reweaving the Past

three shakespeares copy

If someone looks at the myths they identify with, might they find clues to something that happened in a past life? I once tossed a fairy tale together when I was young that turned out, years later, to be a fiction mimicking a true account from a past life, one  that could be validated. In fact, it turned out to be my big validation. If I hadn’t had the fairy tale, I wouldn’t have reached the truth. I slipped many truths into my novel A Small Tale of Shakespeare, and Love’s Labours Returned. In fact, most of the past life recall reported in the book is my real recall. Is that recall really seen from the eyes of someone who has become a myth in himself, or from someone who observed that man? I leave the question open now. I know the memories belong to me. But I don’t close the door on possibilities of how I came to remember them. As with my beliefs in God, I accept I may not know what I feel I know. Too much of reality itself is actually illusion.

I once read a piece that defined far memory, or the recall of the past, as “rewarping the loom of time.” Yes. You replace a colorless forgetful warp with one of many colors, some of which you might not think go together, until you find the life they came from. That’s a rare thing. How do you prove you had that life? You don’t. You either come to trust your own recall or you don’t. No one else has to.

It takes awhile to build a warp of threads that connect us to the past, then do the research that weaves it all together.There are times when we have to be willing to undo a whole lot of weft and start again. That is why we don’t hear about many really detailed cases of verified past life recall, because even if someone has a life that can be verified through substantial records, it’s a dang lot of work. On top of that, you have the pressures of people throwing their negative opinions your way if you try to get help from historians and you’re honest about what you are working on. I ended up saying I was working on family genealogy for the most part, finding very few resources where I could say, “I have half a memory here and I think I’m straying off course, tell me where I’m right, and where I’m wrong…”

I feel it’s of more use and comfort to go with what we recall of our everyday pleasures and skills and the feelings that connect us to other people. It’s good for us. But. There are times that the “weaving” is turning out so well, for a few of us, it’s worth sitting at the loom for years on end…I have only recently stopped my twelve year search. I don’t have to know anymore. Somehow, the right questions were answered, and I’m at peace with the past.

I just hope what I have woven of my own past lives helps others accept those pleasures from their far memory, and feel it’s okay to take them up again.

What Do I Do With This?

A man named Stephen Moorer tweeted this to me this morning: but you are the “past lives” lady, right? You recalled the details of your supposed past life?” In that and a few other tweets he was inferring there’s something wrong with that.

I can’t answer that in 142 characters.

He’s one of thousands who have believed Edward de Vere the 17th Earl of Oxford wrote William Shakespeare’s plays. He has no proof of that at all, and none of his peers have ever been able to prove it, yerecmoonmarriaget they keep on insisting Shakespearean scholars have no basis for believing William Shakespeare wrote the plays, instead of accepting any of the documented proof that he did.

I’m one of millions who believe reincarnation is possible, but I will be the first to tell you, after many years of research, no one knows, still, exactly what that means. Why do some people have past life recall that can be verified through documents? We don’t know. All I can tell you, after all these years of looking, is that I have past life recall, some of which has been verified by sometimes obscure documents. But I didn’t really start believing reincarnation or past life recall was truly possible until I had a dream in which I was called Waterhouse over and over again, and when I went searching on the Internet for the name, I found the portrait in the center of this illustration: Esther Waterhouse looked as I did at the same age, only we were 23 years old about 110 years apart.

That is the kind of thing that gets and keeps your attention.

Since that discovery, I have verified a good number of points of recall, just things I remember, resemblances among friends, their habits and sayings, a number of things that should not have parallels but then do – and so I think I have good reason to believe in the possibility of reincarnation. I can go no farther, because there is no way to go farther. At least, not yet.

I have scattered recall from periods of over 10,000 years. What I can’t verify I put aside. I have verified more than one should, especially within what I call the Waterhouse group, and the Shakespeare group. The two groups are connected.

I know how I fit in the Waterhouse group because the evidence is visible. How do I fit in the Shakespeare group? In spite of what my memories seem to tell me, officially, I don’t know. I still don’t know how it works, I have no idea if my recall means I was or was close to the person in the center of it all. When the recall first started flying, there was every reason to believe I was looking at things through the eyes of that one man. But since then I have learned what tricks the brain can pull with memory, and I am content to say, unless I have huge proof I am right, that I don’t know.

But what could I do with what I recalled?

I wrote a novel, A Small Tale Of Shakespeare which in fiction explains the difficulties of recall, what happens when you’re honest about it, how people react, and what you really learn from it all. In the end there is only one lesson: a life is a truth that belongs to no one but the person living it. Live your own life.

In the novel, Shakespeare has returned as a dwarf woman, an artist who reflects a woman he had known in his lifetime whom he felt he had wronged. That original woman, Mary Talbot, was the first person I remembered that tipped me into completely trusting the recall I had of Shakespeare’s life and circle, for I had been fixated on the small red haired woman for decades before I found out she had not only existed, but was married to William Herbert, the 3rd Earl of Pembroke, who’d been accepted by a number of Shakespeare historians as possibly being William Shakespeare’s lover, the man who inspired his sonnets.

Much of the recall of the character of Minna Sparrow and her friends and loved ones in my novel  are built on actual anecdotes of recall. Anecdotes – some verified, some not, nothing truly proven, because for all the trust I can put into my recall now, I accept that what has influenced my thoughts and work and creativity still dwells in the gulf of things we really don’t know. That’s all right. What I’ve learned by going through the long experience of researching and writing the novel has been thought-provoking, useful, and revealed simply amazing possibilities.

Stephen Moorer, you will never be able to prove the possibility you want. Edward de Vere was just the Earl of Oxford. There is nothing to verify he wrote any of Shakespeare’s works. You have to stretch things to try to make them fit. My recall was handed to me. I hold the bits of it, and no longer try to make it all fit into a neat picture. I’m just amazed by what turned out to be true. That’s had a profound effect on how I view both life and death. I’ve passed on what I learned to other people going through the same thing, and I hope it’s helped some of them. That’s all I can ask.

Now – what have you done with your lives so far?