Yesterday I had a migraine… all day. I napped off and on, so it’s surprising I slept at all last night, and deeply… I didn’t dream. But I did dream yesterday when I had my migraine, and rather odd, disjointed images they were. I dreamed I went to a deli for a strawberry sundae made with light bulbs. They coated the light bulb in strawberry syrup and put it and vanilla icecream in a long open box like you get when you buy popcorn at a theater. Then they turned it over and squeezed the whole thing into another bowl. Viola, light bulb gone. There was something about a monkey.  And finally, I was walking through a wooded field and a whole swarm of ladybugs flew up from the long grass and evergreens.

***

So, anyone get to see the lunar eclipse Wednesday night? Last total lunar eclipse until 2007. I had to work.

So I had an idea… I took a bowl of water and put a moonstone at the bottom, and I put it in the garden to absorb the power of the Blood Moon eclipse.

Typically, a moon in wane or dark is a time for banishments and dismissals, so I think of an eclipse as a particularly heightened time for such spells. The October Full moon is typically called the Hunter’s Moon or the Blood Moon, and so it is a time of sacrifice. This was the time of year when hunters really started putting in their stores of winter meat. 

I gathered up the stone and water the next day and put it in a jar. Is it just my imagination that the water seems to have a bluish glow? I don’t think so, but I haven’t shown it to anyone, so I don’t know. I plan to use the stone and possibly the water as well in a spell to “sacrifice” the ignorance of the world, but particularly of the American people with regards to the upcoming election. I’ll wait until the day before the election, then smash the moonstone. Then I’ll put the pieces and water back in the jar, possibly with some herbs and a map of the world (if I can fold it small enough… maybe I’ll burn it and add the ashes in), seal it with wax (perhaps carving some protective symbols into it), and bury it where it will hopefully never be found or opened. I hope that Thoth and Maat will help me out a bit by emphasizing the qualities of knowledge and truth in the general population.

Of course, if anyone has any ideas to add to my planned spell, I’m open to suggestions on how to improve it. Do you think its too ambitious a plan? Even if it’s beyond my power and ruined my magickal ability forever, wouldn’t it be worth it if it works? That’d be a sacrifice I could make too.

I was struck by my past lives around puberty. Spontaneous recall is pretty rare in older children, but they’re usually unlocked by traumatic (and similar events) and so are more often refered to as triggered recall. I was thirteen or so, when the other students decided to “lynch” me. They followed me for two blocks, spitting on me, throwing whatever was on the ground at me, and calling me names. They’d been picking on me for years, but that was the worst.

After that, I started having horrible nightmares of a similar nature, but set in a different time period. This was a life I had in the ancient Middle East where I was stoned into unconsciousness by a mob and set on fire. Even the reasons for the attack were the same… I was a non-conformist and remain one to this day.

That was just the first of many past lives to surface through dreams and later through meditation. I continue to remember others even now. I just recalled another last year, though the memories are spotty. I don’t go seeking them; they just come, usually at a time in this life corresponding to a death in a former life. If this pattern holds true, I may discover quite a few more than the ten I have before I die.

I didn’t even realize I was recalling past lives at first. That took a lot of thought and research too. I found this site which seems very informative, if anecdotal, for those interested.

At first I just got flashes in “dreams.” These dreams weren’t like my regular dreams. For one thing, all my senses were active in them, and for another, they followed a relatively normal progression of events. That is, they weren’t like my “normally” weird dreams.

When I started meditating on the dreams, I eventually realized they were actually memories because more details would present themselves. Eventually, I didn’t have to wait on dreams or meditate to have a past life memory present itself. Sometimes I get bits and pieces just going about my daily routine… though these new memories have all been from past lives I already know about.

In at least one of my lives I was married, possible two or three. In two of those lives, I am certain I was female, but I had no connection to my mate. I only feel I had a connection to the Scottish lord, and that may be entirely based on my feelings of failure. A “soul-mate” is not necessarily a companion. A soul-mate is simply someone from your own soul group. You can have lots of soul mates and never an actual physical mate. Soul mates can be family, friends, strangers, and of course, lovers. Soul-mates exists for the sole purpose of help you learn and grow.

When I make mention of bodhisattvas, I use it as a convenient term for people who try to help others. For one thing, I don’t think all bodhisattvas are Buddhist. They might be healers (physical, emotional, spiritual) or they might be teachers or might ascribe to any profession that assists others in growing. Most people simply interpret the word as “enlightened being.” According to some things I’ve read, it seems bodhisattvas (that is, elightened souls) are the most likely beings to recall past lives. I can think of a few reasons why this might be… for one thing, bodhisattvas have a lot more lives than most people because they come back multiple times (of their own free will) to help others. For another, bodhisattvas are extremely spiritual beings and so some of that has got to carry over.

I’ve come to think maybe I’m not supposed to be loved, not personally loved, at any rate. I’ve come to find I have quite a few admirers, but very few people that could technically be called friends. I don’t say this to sound bigger than myself, or whiny, but I help others, I go out of my way to help others sometimes; but I don’t feel I receive the same attention(?). I really want it, but I don’t think I technically need it, so… I’m not sure I can explain exactly what I mean. I think I’m supposed to be more selfless than wanting someone to love me alone. If I come to love one person more than anyone else, aren’t I being selfish somehow? I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I mean, if I’m trying to help humanity be better, anyone I came to care for on an individual basis would distract from being that selfless, wouldn’t it? I have to be impersonal in caring about the mass of humanity, or it’s just going to hurt more when they disappoint. And of course, I know all about it hurting only because I allow it to hurt. I can’t stop myself from caring about individuals, even faced with the “grand scheme” of things, knowing that in the farthest of futures, there are no individuals, just one compound-soul, doesn’t make the present individual souls seem less real to me at all. But in any event, I don’t believe in “lessons,” or that we have anything specific to learn. Point of fact, I think we have everything to learn, but no particular order in which to accomplish that fete. It is all our individual experiences which will go toward the reformation of a more multi-faceted “god,” and it is only as individuals, interacting with each other, that we can grow.

Last night I dreamed of living in my childhood home and being a teenager in school again. But the school was directly across the street and it was an intergalactic school for magic. Unfortunately, there was some kind of pitch black (as in the movie Pitch Black with Vin Deisil) alien/demon shapeshifting thing after me (which I think followed me from another dream prior). I knew it was after me, so I was running all over the place trying to avoid it. When I felt I had escaped it, I asked my mom to write me a note to explain why I was late for school. I walked across the street to the school which was all glass in the front. They were very irritated with my lateness, but buzzed me in and accepted my note. But as I was walking down a hall, I saw the thing that was chasing me sitting on a leather sofa. I couldn’t tell anyone it was evil because they wouldn’t believe me, and besides, it was an intergalactic school for magic. Weirdness was to be expected I suppose.

***

I hope no one was too distressed about the absence of the Ancient Whispers newsletter these past few weeks. Between work, migraines, and something awful I did to my neck, I just couldn’t get it finished. But the newsletter is back, and just in time for Samhain. So enjoy the article and the jokes in the spirit of the season. The craft of the week may save you a bit of money… it’s homemade face painting recipe. In the sites of interest, you’ll find many links for face painting and pumpkin carving.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~* Index *~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Some Sites of Interest
Face Painting for Halloween
Jack-o-lantern Ideas
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

This Pagan Week : October/November
Humor : Horror Movie Survival
Article : Samhain
Quote : Mark Twain
Craft of the Week : Homemade Face Paints
Humor : You know you’re a haunt-a-holic when…
Who’s Who in World Mythology : Baduhenna
Quote : Margaret Mead
The Magi’s Garden : Cloves
Cartoon
Poem : Song of Samhain
Quote : Thomas H. Huxley
The Power of Stones : Cancrinite
Humor : Halloween One-liners
A Dreamer’s Guide ipes to Pity
Quote : Andre Gide
Previous Newsletters

I was thinking on the subject of reinacarnation these few minutes past when it occurred to me that there’s probably no one looking for me.

What I mean is, in all my past lives I was alone. There was a dalliance in ancient Egypt (fifth life) which probably got me killed in a round about way, but aside from that, I can’t say that I was loved or loved anyone on a personal level. True there was in the seventh life (1100s) a Scottish Lord who I was particularly attached to (as his Bard) and I miss him dearly, but I don’t know that he would search for me through my lives. I failed him badly by being so careless as to get myself stabbed in the back by the interloper priest. More likely than not, he went on to resent my failure, and if he did seek me, it would not be out of love.

So it occurred to me, since it’s late and I’ve had a week off from work… plenty of time for deep thinking, that reincarnates find or are found by the former members of their soul-group due to some deep spiritual/psychological urge to find that missing member of their soul-family. They begin life seeking for their lost loved ones, but who would ever look for me? I’ve had no one and have been a failure, dying young and usually murdered, in most all of my past lives. Maybe I will be alone because I have always been alone, never forming the kind of relationships with anyone that would cause them to reaffirm that bond come the next incarnation. Maybe I am a catalyst, the changer, useful trickster that I am…

Does this mean I’m a complete soul… a bodhisattva like the Dali Lama? That I need no others to bond with for completion? This naturally leads me to wonder about being an “old soul.” What is an “old soul?” Some people tend to think it’s someone who’s been around a couple lifetimes, but what if it’s more than that? What if an “old soul” is a soul-group that’s been around long enough to congeal into one new soul? Does this mean I am to seek out new bonds so that the soul-group can grow again? No wonder it’s so difficult for me to make friends… Maybe my soul-group’s got discerning tastes. heh

I’m looking for a few old-souls to form a new soul-group. I know of at least two people who I will be seeking in the next lifetime, whether they seek me or not… but I’d be willing to take into consideration anyone who wants to be included.

Ah, vacation…. from yesterday till this coming Sunday… I am on vacation from work and my webcomic (for those who might have wondered). Not that it won’t be waiting for me when I get back, but for now all I have to do is what I choose to do.

And what I chose to do is catch up on Xanga, Tribes, my email, and of course clean the house, read copiously, have a yardsale, and harvest my herb garden. Oh yes, and I wanted to try my hand at making paper mache masks… of Kali and Ganesh. I would like to hang them over my altar.

I was worried last week because I woke up one morning with a terrible pain in my neck and it lasted into Sunday… six days! It was so bad I felt like someone was trying to twist my head right off. I was sick in the head and stomach and could barely stand to eat.  I still have blisters on the back of my neck from the heating pad. I didn’t get anything done… my email is backed up like you wouldn’t believe and those who missed my newsletter anouncements, now you know why there wasn’t one… because I couldn’t even manage to finish it. I couldn’t stay on the computer, or online for that matter, to do more than make sure the junk mail didn’t clog up my email. Well, the newsletter will be back next Wednesday… for Samhain.  

So far, I have brought out my winter clothes and read through the Wolves of the Calla (yesterday and the last 100 pages today). Yeah, I know it’s been out a while, but I was waiting for the last before I started so I wouldn’t have to wait on it like the rest. I don’t really care for King’s works, but his Tower books are a masterpiece and he should be glad to retire now that he has finished it. I know I’ll be glad if he’s truly finished… more room for the up and comers on the shelves when the old man is gone. I’ll probably manage to finish the last two and “Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell” also… maybe more. I’m a glutton for words when I have the time to consume them.  

Tomorrow I think I’ll harvest the herbs for the dehydrator. The sage and lemon balm did particularly well this year. Two of my favorite herbs… the thyme looks a bit ragged though. It didn’t do nearly as well as last year.

Two dreams I had while my neck was wonky that might be of interest to you… one I was in a half-sunken house, looking for some important paperwork for someone. It was not my house and not my papers, but the papers were important to the success of some changes someone wanted to make in the world. And as I was looking for these papers in the water-logged basement of the sunken house, I was being chased by Jason of Friday the 13th. The second dream was much simpler, but stranger. I was walking through a graveyard with a coworker and she said when she died, she wanted her tombstone to carry a list of her five favorite books. Even though I thought it was a really great idea in the dream, I said something like, “that’s stupid, no one goes to a graveyard to read.” heh

And finally, I leave you with this article which should scare anyone who reads it but has nothing to do with the holiday approaching.

Uggh, I had the most awful dream last night. I’m still nauseated. First of all, a little background… when I was a teenager, I had these cute little tree frogs. They were the happiest shade of green and always seemed to be smiling while they were scrunched up, glued to the walls of the terrarium I set up for them. Unfortunately, no one told me they were nocturnal when I bought them, so they often kept me up with a chirping, burbling cacophony. I already had enough trouble sleeping, even back then, without the added racket of two chirpy froggies, so eventually I took them to the home of someone with a pond/backyard and let them go. I figured they had all the amenities, and they’d be happier free than kept.

In my dream, I went back to the house where I lived when I had the frogs. I looked out the window of my old bedroom and there was a frog plastered to the window. Of course I was excited. Wow, one of my frogs made it home.

So I called all my coworkers to come look. For some reason, they were all in the house as well, though they weren’t really the people I actually work with in the real world. I picked the frog up and it was just as cold ans squishy as I remembered, though much bigger. It was actually larger than both my hands.

My coworkers were all like, oh, uh huh, interesting. Bored like. heh So I put the frog back on the window, and then I saw a little eye on its belly and another on its chest near its arm. I reached for it again, but it fell off onto the ground. My coworkers belittled me and said, “You’ll never catch it now.”

But I didn’t have any problem picking it up again. It didn’t seem inclined to run away at all. Dirt and other debris was stuck to it, so I took it to a little pool nearby and washed it off. It didn’t seem to mind the pool any more than the ground. Again, my coworkers seemed to assume the frog would try to get away now that it was in the water, but it let me scoop it back up and carry it to my boss. She didn’t seem particularly impressed either.

So I took the frog back to the tiny pool and turned it over to let it back into the water. I was worrying about how it would eat because I was sure in the dream that the eyes were connected to extra nerve cells which lead to extra brain tissue. Since one of the eyes would have the nerves going right through the stomach, I was concerned.

But as I turned the frog over, the eyes turned into egg yolks and boiled out of the frog’s body and into the water. My coworkers seemed to blaim me for this too. And said things like “Good job” and “Smooth” in sarcastic tones.

And I woke up ready to throw up. Of course, I woke up on my back. I always have the worst dreams when I’m on my back. I need more pillows so I can make a pillow nest and not roll over. heh

And obviously, I didn’t have eggs for breakfast.

At work, I am so terminally busy. They put me in charge of keeping the bargain books in order. No small task, I can tell you. Especially when they don’t give me that much time to do it and we get a new shipment every Friday of at least twenty, closer to forty, boxes which I have to unpack and find homes for. My right arm and wrist hurt fiercely, though it’s getting better. This is going on the third week I’ve been doing the bargain books. It’s not so bad aside from time issues, and it is good exercise.