When I was nine years old, my family moved to Tacoma, Washington from Heron, South Dakota. It was a big move from life on a rural farm to living in a big city. Unable to go too far from our country roots, we lived near the edge of Tacoma, across the street from a wide-open field full of tall trees. A new and beautiful frontier.
Shortly after we moved to this new shiny, but scary place, I had a vivid memory of a previous life. Not a dream, but a full-fledged, cellular memory. I saw how I was dressed—in a plain long skirt with a scarf on my head—and could see people I knew and loved. The memory took me to a church where many of the women and children in my village had run to take refuge because our village was under attack.
A man in battle gear with some armor and a sword, broke into the church and confronted us. I was standing with a woman that I knew was my aunt near the confessional so it must have been a catholic church. The soldier asked if we believed in God, and of course, we said yes. I remember thinking it was the truth. This attacking warrior then pierced me with his sword and I died. Or I should say, my body died. Even as I young girl, I was very much aware that I was still alive. I instantly understood I had been alive before and I was alive again (living in human form).
After reliving that memory, I knew I could never be afraid of death, or grieve too deeply when others died, because I had a visceral knowledge that I/we have lived before and we can expect to live again, and between all this human drama, our spirit, including our personalities, continues to live on.
So it seems kind of appropriate to me that many of my stories include an element of reincarnation. Please, check them out and Enjoy always, T