Mr. Brown

Note to reader: this is the second past life regression that I experienced, during the same session I reviewed my life as Santorio (which you will also find on this blog). We start by floating on a cloud and asking to be deposited in a time and place that holds information needed for this current life. The opening scene is of course where the review opens for me. New scenes appear when I am asked to leave the current one and move to another day I consider important.

(Opening scene)

I am a gentleman in Victorian England. I am looking at the clock tower, checking the time against my pocketwatch to make sure my watch is right. Time is of the essence – I can’t be late. I am wearing a suit and bowler hat. I carry a fancy walking stick. I am on the street waiting for a carriage, which is late. I am annoyed that the carriage is late and when it arrives I wrap sharply on the roof of the cab, telling the driver to “Move it.” I am expected at the bank for a very important meeting; one that will ‘make us or break us’. I am seeking funding for a new style of community living – improved ideas for the poor – living in clean surroundings with garden space rather than dirty, crowded tenements. The rent will be reasonable, there will be lots of green space, the opportunity for vegetable gardens and keeping small animals – hens, etc. This gives people hope.

I dislike dealing with bankers; I find them so very greedy. I have never met a banker who was interested in the greater good, only in what profit could stand to be made from a venture. For them is is ALWAYS about the money. There are probably people who think I am one of the greedy because I am a gentleman. I am a successful business owner – a builder – but I am not out to be successful at the expense of other people by paying them the least amount possible and expecting them to work 16 hour days and live in squalor.

As I could have expected, the bankers are not on side with my ideas for this new type of community and the meeting does not go well. However, as I’m leaving the bank I run into a gentleman who IS interested in my ideas. We strike a deal there on the spot as he agrees to underwrite the project, although it will be on a smaller scale than what I had drawn the plans for. However, he too sees the value in giving people the opportunity to improve their lives, the hope that happier and more relaxed home lives will lead people to be more productive at work as well – giving them a leg up on the scale of independence and dignity. Everyone deserves to feel they are important, everyone deserves the opportunity to have a clean and warm home. Well, as clean as can be expected, given that we heat the entire country with coal and the smoke coats everything it touches.

(New scene)

The first phase is complete – decent sized apartments in handsome red brick buildings with front gardens and vegetable plots in the back gardens! There is a band and a huge party – people are moving in today. I am so very pleased to see all the activity and the joy on people’s faces. The mayor is in attendance as well the families who are moving in; there is a prince in attendance as well! I am glad of the attention this is garnering as I am certain that it will spur us on to more projects, that funding and other backing will be much easier to obtain. There’s a lot of glad-handing going on but that’s alright – I don’t mind being in the spotlight or receiving pats on the back. I don’t need it but I do appreciate both and financial support is always appreciated so this serves a purpose – increasing awareness. These apartment buildings are really only the start. My long term dream and vision is to include schooling here too, right through to a university – a complete community! The university’s most important mandate will be to educate those who would never be able to afford attending higher learning otherwise. The bankers are still snubbing me but it’s alright – I no longer need them as I have other financial supporters.

(New scene)

I see Queen Victoria! I am at a presentation where “Meritorious Service” awards are being given out by Her Majesty and I am receiving one. I feel really good about receiving this award as it means that my vision and work are recognized and appreciated by others. There are a number of other people also receiving awards and there is a lovely reception – many family members present for the recipients. I have only a nephew, Jonathan, for family. He is present at the gala and also works with me in the business. I expect he will take over the business. He is young and recently married; no children as of yet. I am not married; have never been. I have always been too busy with the business to take on the added responsibility of a wife and family – wouldn’t be fair to them as I am seldom at home and to be honest, I never had much interest in women. Or men either. I have a small apartment at my office to save me the bother of going home some nights when I am burning the midnight oil.

(New scene)

I see fireworks – another celebration. This one does not involve me, I’m just watching from the second story balcony of my house. It is the centennial celebration of a military unit. The park (the square) is open on one side with stately buildings on the other three. There are mature trees and a fountain in the square. It’s either early spring or late fall – there are no leaves on the trees but the grass is more green than brown. I am enjoying the sights and sounds – military band music and a tattoo. I enjoy watching “pomp and circumstance”, and people. I am feeling my life has been well lived.

(New scene – last day of my life)

I am at home in my large four poster bed. I am not well. I have been confined to a wheelchair of late (uncomfortable contraption!) and have difficulty breathing – I now have pneumonia. I am 82 years old. My housekeeper, Mrs. Hadfield, is tending me – we have been good to each other and I am remembering her handsomely in my will – this house and a very comfortable sum of money. Mrs. Hadfield washes my body and then my nephew Jonathan calls for the undertaker. They remove me to their establishment for final burial preparations. I am dressed in my tuxedo – I always liked a good suit and took pride in my appearance. My top hat and my walking stick lie on top of my casket. I never needed the walking stick, I simply liked to carry it – the image that it projected. The service is in a large church – a cathedral? Many people come out to pay their last respects. I am buried in the cemetery outside the church. There are many Browns buried here. I am at peace.

What is the reason I was shown this lifetime? “Much good she can do. She knows that she has done much good in her current life but always there is the feeling she can/ “should” be doing more. That is not realistic – no one Being can do all that she sees/feels needs to be done. This life is to remind or show her that there is only so much “one” can do, no matter their situation or resources. “One” can start, but many hands/souls must join in – it is not her responsibility alone.

Afterword:

I am always curious about how I could possibly validate the lives I have lived and for both this life of Mr. Brown and the life of Santorio I received some validation in December 2018. In Santorio’s case, I was channel surfing TV one night and a beautiful scene was being shown on a channel as I was flipping through – I had to stop and admire the view, and my immediate thought was that the hilly coastline and ocean was stunning and exactly what Santorio saw when he stood on his front verandah when he was stationed in the Naples area. Lo and behold, the narrator named the location – Naples, Italy.

In the case of Mr. Brown, I recently read a novel set in Victorian England. Imagine my excitement to read that there were many individuals and organizations actively pursuing ways and means of improving the lives of England’s working poor and destitute. Added to that – knowing that novels often weave fact in with the fictional, once finished the book, I chose a couple of names and random and Googled them. Sure enough – the name that resonated strongly with me throughout the novel (for no reason that I could discern), that of John Ruskin, was an easy find. And one of the things he is most remembered for? His work aimed at improving other people’s lives. In fact, his work continues to current day in the organization he founded – the Guild of St. George – an educational charity founded in 1871! Writing this thrills me as much now as it did to discover it.

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Santorio

FIRST PAST LIFE SHOWN, JULY 2017 – SANTORIO

As I come down through the clouds – the mists of time – I see what I believe is the Coliseum in Rome. It’s not a ruin, it’s very much in use and I am a guard there. I am a big man, very muscular, very good looking. I am strong, and a man of integrity – I can sense this immediately. I take my work seriously, but I am not a hard man, despite appearances.

I wear a tunic and sandals and I carry a round metal shield as well as a sword and a smaller knife on a leather belt around my waist. I hold the shield rather than carry it on my belt – it’s part of protocol for work. Weapons can be stored within easy reach on our person but the shield must be held “front and centre” unless we need both hands free for something. I think this is silly, and only in place to make us look good to the people.

I am standing in front of the coliseum watching daily life unfold in my world. I am facing north. There is a wall around the area with large wooden gates, standing open, through which I can see out of town. It’s quite dusty and brown – late summer and not a lot of rain – but there are hills in the distance that are green and vibrant looking. To my right (east) is an open stall marketplace, and people have set up their wares here for the day. The east wall is not far behind where they are set up, and there is a wooden awning coming off the wall to shelter people from the sun. I find it amusing that all the stalls sit in front of, rather than underneath the awning, but the people themselves duck into the shade whenever they feel the need. The area to my left and directly across from the market is wide open. I have the sense that it’s a parade ground, and there are centurions (mounted soldiers at any rate) in this area. Perhaps they’ve just finished up training, they don’t appear to be doing anything in particular right now. In fact, some of them are at the market purchasing fruit or vegetables. There’s no sense of this community being under guard, controlled or fearful. It’s a pretty normal day in the life. Warm and sunny, a gentle warm breeze blowing.

My home is up the street to the right of the coliseum, not too far from the north wall. Housing here is conjoined, no spaces between any of them, and some of the buildings are two or three stories while others are single. I thought the street was paved but see now it is simply really hard-packed. It gives the appearance of being stone. I don’t think it gets mucky here when it rains, the water simply runs off the hard-pack. My house has a window with a turquoise window box full of herbs and medicinal flowers . The door is to the right of the window, made of wood planks with a rope latch, and as I approach the door is ajar. I live here alone but have a cook & housekeeper, a young woman from down the street whose name is Anna. She is at the cooking fire making my meal. She is a lovely young woman with silky dark hair. She brings a little boy with her almost every day – his name is Paulo. He is Anna’s nephew. I don’t know the circumstances but I do know that he is an orphan. I love this little guy. He waits for me to come home every day and is always happy to see me. I scoop him up in my arms and toss him in the air a couple of times and then hug him close.

My house isn’t very big; you step into the kitchen when you come in the door from the street. There is a flight of stairs leading up to the roof immediately as you come in; a table and two chairs sit under the window. The cooking fire is on the left, or west, wall. Beyond the stairs is a doorway into the next room which is where I sleep and relax. There’s a sleeping pallet and extra cushions and low tables for entertaining company. There is also a window in this room, and another door which leads out to a communal courtyard. Up on the roof there is a striped awning, a good place to sit and catch the breeze when it’s hot. The wall is high enough to lean on when I’m having a smoke and there’s a good view from up here; to the north I can see those green hills and the other directions allow me to look out over the town. I can see the coliseum from here very easily, it’s only a few minutes walk away.

<Karen asks me to close that scene and move to a significant day.>

There is chaos in the marketplace. “Invaders” – thieves & vandals – have come through the open gates (they are rarely closed during the day) on horseback and have proceeded to knock down the market stalls and steal what they want. There is screaming and a lot of dust and my fellow guards and I rush to the scene to assist the vendors. People are hurt, but none badly. I draw my sword and stand between two stalls, daring anyone to try and get past me; the vendors, mostly women and older men, gather under the awning behind me or escape down the street. Seeing that people aren’t defenseless the thieves ride off. We set about righting stalls and gathering spilled wares salvaging what we can. All injuries are minor but I am angry. Those men had no right to be here and no right to create chaos and damage. No one gave chase to these guys but we will be prepared should they ever try to come back and do it again.

<And we move on to another significant day.>
I am getting married! My bride is Anna, the young woman who cooks for me. It is a small gathering, just her family and a few close friends and neighbours. (I have a sense that I have no family. Perhaps this is a reason I take to Paulo as strongly as I do?) and there is no big feast or party because we are leaving – I am now a captain and have been assigned to a garrison at Naples – and we are expected there immediately. Anna is beautiful, wearing ivory/white and a sapphire blue shawl. We are both very happy; Paulo is coming with us and will be our son.

We live outside of the garrison and outside or on the extreme edge of town. Our home is on a hill or cliff overlooking the ocean. There are four rooms all side-by-side (to catch the sea breezes) with a verandah running the length of the building. We like to stand out here and watch the sea.

<Next significant scene.>

We are in the midst of a celebration. My men and I are returning from a hard fight with the Greek army. We have lost a lot of horses and men but came home victorious. The streets are filled with people cheering us.

We have four children – Paulo, two more boys and the baby, Martina. They all look like their mother. The boys, Arturo and Dmitri, are a little afraid of me – I am a big presence, a big voice and a big man. Their mother is much quieter and because I am away so much they are not at ease with me. The house is much quieter when I am not around. Still filled with love and discipline, but much quieter. They will grow out of it as they grow older, partly because Anna has made a of point of not threatening them with “wait until your father gets home”. She looks after whatever needs to be looked after even when I am here and our family is the better for it.

<Next Significant Scene>

We are at Martina’s wedding. I am an old man. This is a big wedding with the celebration in the town square. The groom is the mayor’s son. I think he is a ‘pissant’ – he is full of braggadoccio and thinks he needs to live up to MY reputation. Always trying to impress me, which ensures that he doesn’t. There’s also a bit of ‘big man about town’ with being the mayor’s son. Martina, however, loves him, and is certain that we will come to terms with each other. I see that he simply needs to calm down and be himself. He is a good man at heart, just trying too hard. It doesn’t help that he isn’t much taller, bigger than his bride.

People see me as larger than life, I see myself as an everyday man, simply doing my job. I don’t understand why people fuss over me. I don’t see myself as any more, or less, than the next man.

When Martina is married Paulo is happily married with two children, the other boys both have girlfriends and I know there will be more weddings soon. Anna is wringing her hands over having no children left at home. But she does have me to look after – I am retired after many successful campaigns and years of service to the empire. I am happy to have time with the woman I love. I sit out on the verandah many afternoons and carve wood or whittle. I make horses and soldiers, wild animals and birds, and give the carvings away to the children in the street and to my own grandchildren. I am content to spend my days puttering.

<Asked to go to the day of my Passing>

I have a heart attack in the street one afternoon as I am passing the neighbour’s. We are actually chatting as I walk along, headed home for supper, and I am here one moment and gone the next. They call for Anna who comes running out, cradles my head and keens over my leaving. But she is a woman of strength and very soon thereafter is organizing everyone and every thing. She, Martina and our closest neighbour women wash and prepare my body with oils before I am wrapped in a shroud. I am carried by men from my former regiment (they take turns) through the streets on a funeral litter with the family walking behind. They are all quiet and strong, but tears escape down the cheek from time to time. I have 5 grandchildren with number six due very soon. The funeral is a state affair with banners flying and honour guards, both horse and foot soldiers, and burial in the military cemetery. All of this is a fuss that I don’t feel needed to be made but I suppose that I have as much ‘right’ to be buried here, and with all this pomp, as anyone else they’ve put in here. I don’t resent it – it is very nice and I appreciate that people have gone to the trouble, I simply don’t feel it’s necessary. I was simply a man, doing my job.

<Asked why Higher Self showed me this life time>

The purpose, or lesson behind, was “do the right thing” even if it’s not always easy. Leadership is key. My strong sense of duty springs from this lifetime.

Afternotes:

I had no idea that I would see and sense so much more than I am able to convey during the session. Very little here has been added from subsequent listenings, it’s everything I saw and felt but didn’t take the time to articulate for the recording. For the most part listening again has given me insight. Some things did come to me after the initial session though, and one of those things is the boys’ names – Arturo and Dmitri. I always thought Dmitri was a Greek name, so I must have met one I liked somewhere along the way through all those campaigns.

Another thing that I remember from the day of the session is that when I came into the scene, I said I was at the coliseum and so I thought I was in Rome. At the time I can see the scene here so very clearly, and my conscious self is a little annoyed with Karen, who asks me about the ‘village’. There is a small slice of me that wants to tell her we are in Rome, not some rinky-dink little town or village (sounds like ego to me!) but I am able to keep my conscious mind shut up and go with the flow. After listening to the session again, in preparation for starting to write about it, it came to me that I was NOT in Rome. The coliseum I guarded was definitely styled after the one in Rome, but it was built on a much smaller scale and was located in a small city. So Karen’s guidance was bang on. That’s so cool.

One other thing that I felt very strongly at the time of the session, and that came back to me when I listened to the recording: the invasion of the marketplace really made me angry – “they have no right to be here or to do that”. I have always had, in addition to the sense of duty HS mentioned, a very strong sense of justice. Not justice under the law, but what is right in the natural or organic sense. This perhaps is what HS meant, even more than ‘duty’.
April 2018

Recollections

“Recollections” is a series of life stories – lives reviewed during/through hypnotherapy sessions. I hope they will all follow a similar format so that they are easy for you to read and follow along. The first two life reviews took place in July 2017 during the same session. Subsequent lives visited happened over a period of time with the session held via Skype.

Each session will be titled with the name of the person I was in that life time. Sometimes there may be comments added well after the fact but for the most part, at least here in the beginning, what I’ve written is what I saw at the time – writing it out allows for so much more of what I saw to be shared with you than what was said during the session. Sometimes new information comes as I listen to the session recording but for the most part listening again simply makes the images and information even clearer and sharper than it was during the session.

Apparently not everyone sees the detail that I see when they have a BQH session and so I’ve been encouraged to share.  I hope you enjoy the journeys as much as I have!

First, you forgive.

Once upon a time a long time ago a sweet little girl lived on a farm. As the baby of the family she was adored and the centre of attention. It helped that she was sweet, a happy and sunny child, and cute to boot, with strawberry blonde hair that her mother rolled into ringlets. But things and people change and grow, as they must lest they suffer an early death, and as she grew from babyhood, through toddlerhood and into a school-aged child two things happened, neither of which she understood. And those things changed her in rather profound ways. It would be decades before she understood, but out of that understanding would come the return of her personal power, hidden away for many lifetimes in order to keep it safe.

You see, the first thing that happened, at least as far as she remembers, is that males of many sizes and ages wanted her. A piece of her. Those many decades later it would become clear (i.e. pointed out to her!) that those boys and men were attracted by her light, and they wanted to claim that somehow for their own. And men and boys being men and boys, how they tranlated wanting some of the beauty that surrounded this child was ages old – they translated it as sex. And so it was that a beautiful girl was wanted, and used, in sexual games. Thankfully, as a little girl and up until early teenage years, it was not men but boys. Boys who coaxed  her to fondle, to show them things that by right and definition were sacred to her and no boy, nobody,  NO BODY, should have had access to.

Was she forced? No. It was all presented as fun, and truth be told, brings us to the second of the two things – it returned her to that earlier stage of her life – the centre of attention – a piece of her life that she missed so much. This attention was hers. Hers to keep. “Shhhh – don’t tell! This is our little secret.” She was a very good secret keeper (still is). And so it went.

She did not feel, has never felt, that any of this was done in cruelty. They were boys. Did they know better? Well I guess it’s clear that they new something, or else why keep it a secret, but was it malicious? No. She has never believed that of any of the boys. Boys will be boys. Kids will be kids. We learn by exploring, no matter whether it’s  the back yard or our friend’s anatomy.

Men, on the other hand, have a little more skin in the game, on more levels than one. ‘Our little secret’? Of course! How the hell else to stay out of jail? Or in your girlfriend’s bed? Or look the girl’s parents in the eye? Men knew better and yet carried on. It’s hard to know if they knew the consequences they were visiting upon a young girl, hard to know if they cared or would have laughed in her face had she asked. And ask them she will not. You see, most are still alive. Some are known to her still. But she will not ask, for it makes no difference. There will be no ‘outting’, no naming names. There will be no blaming or shaming. Because the girl, now a woman, realizes there is no purpose served by any of that. In the end they are guilty. In the end they know that. And in the end, they are forgiven. Not because she knew they need her forgiveness (perhaps they do, and she will tell them all is forgiven should they ask) but because she needed to forgive for her own sake. She needed to be able to open her heart and embrace even those experiences that she would not wish upon another child. Because a forgiving heart is a loving heart, and a loving heart is a forgiving heart. If you cannot forgive you cannot love. And love is all there is.

And all are forgiven.

And in the end it makes no difference. Not to her. They will have to answer for their actions to someone or some thing at some point, but it will not be her.

The Bottom Line, part 2

This bottom line is very simple – and a cliche, but then cliches  exist because they are rooted in truth – life can turn on a dime. And as much as I know this, it was still a shock when the turning happened to us.

I have been absent from my blog for almost three years. Despite my best intentions, despite the “I promise to write every day.” Despite, despite, despite.  I even forgot I had a blog page for well over a year.  Things just do not always go in the direction we intend. I have a few theories on that, but truly that’s all they are for the most part. I’ve not been able to make peace with the Law of Attraction (LOA), it needs work! Oh my. And as I write those words I have an inkling of understanding. My, my, my. Of course!

If you had asked, I would have told you that, as far as I am concerned, the LOA stopped working as it should in 2012. Well, I have been doing a lot of ‘audio reading’ the past few weeks as I work on projects around the house and my audios of choice have been the messages of Kryon (to learn more go here: https://www.menus.kryon.com/). And what have I heard many times over the past three weeks – what has been a part of the messages? Simply this: the end of 2012 was the end of so many things – the end of the year, the end of the Mayan calendar, and the end of prophesied earth. Yes – did you know? 2012 was the beginning of the shift into a new energy, and a new era, on planet earth.  Why? How? Because we were never to make it beyond 2012, or even year 2000. We are beyond what was thought capable of us based on millenia of previous experience that indicated we would annihilate ourselves by the year 2000. Remember the Doomsday Clock, set at 1 minute to midnight? (Perhaps it was two minutes – doesn’t matter). The point is – in the 80’s the consciousness of humanity was raised to a level beyond the point of annihilation – we started waking up, and we avoided Armageddon in the process. The energy here on this earth now is totally different from that old energy.

Going back to the LOA, it of course was designed to work in that OLD energy. No wonder it doesn’t work any more – that energy no longer exists! Hmmm – what, and how long – will it take for the LOA to catch up with the new energy? And what do we do in the meantime? LOL. The LOA is sometimes running amok; it certainly has been in my life – 2013 is when my world started crumbling in ways I could not fathom. For five years now I have been swimming, not in what I have been sending out as my desires, but for the most part very strong contrast to what I have been asking for. It’s so obvious when I think about it.

In MY meantime, I am so excited to have gained this insight. How marvelous. Not that I have a clue what steps to take to counter what LOA thinks it should bring me. But at least I understand now the why of the last five years. And that is the bottom line. At least for tonight.

 

 

The Bottom Line, part 1

When we are in trouble, in hurt, unhappy – all of these things and more – we look outside of ourselves for assistance, for help, for someone else to make it stop, make it go away, make things better, make us happy. We speak of “looking to God”, but when we do we look to the heavens. We seek God outside of ourselves. Yes, God is outside of us, but know this – God resides within.

This is what makes us strong in times of adversity – we lean on God within us. External forces will not be your agent of change. YOU will be. Because God is within you, not just outside of you. God resides inside of every one. Every. One. Every kindness you perform is God. Not God acting through you, but God in you. When you trust in God you are trusting in yourself. When you trust yourself, you are trusting in God. You are God – a tiny fragment of the All That Is. And the more you acknowledge that presence the more you allow it to grow and fill you. How wonderful to be filled with the love – the light – of God, daily! Go within. Open up. Let the light within you emanate and radiate. Shine!

This is the bottom line: We don’t need to let God in to our hearts, we need to let God OUT!

My Heart Sings Post #2

Here we are on the fourth day of a new calendar year. Again I have procrastinated – what do I write about? And the answer comes – just start. It will flow from there. Hmmmm. That statement comes from the heart and not the brain so I know it is my guides and not my ego speaking to me but still…… so while I am ‘waiting to start’ I have a question. Do you ever notice that the great ideas come when you are nowhere near a computer or a pad and paper to jot things down? Places where it is impossible to capture ‘in the moment’ – the shower, for example. Happens to me all the time. By the time I am out and dried off, where is that brilliant thought? Gone down the drain with the water!

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I was asked one day last November about an experience I had with angels – how I know they exist. This is that story:

I was home alone, painting the trim on the house. We lived on a farm yard, closest neighbour at least a mile away. I was working at the peak – standing on a ladder, full can of paint in one hand, brush in the other. You know, it only takes a split second for disaster to strike – a nanosecond of inattention, and your life can be changed forever, or end. Funny thing is, you don’t see it coming – you don’t see or even imagine that a  life-changing event can occur in that split second, but as the event unfolds you are oh so cognizant that what you have just done was so incredibly stupid you are likely on your way to one of two outcomes – permanent disability or straight up dead. So that’s where I was, standing on a ladder that straddled the peak of an addition to the original building when I, for some reason that even today these many years later totally escapes me, lean back. Away from the ladder and the house.  And as I am falling away, I realize what I have done. See what I mean about can’t see it coming but can see it happening? I am falling away from the house although somehow the ladder is coming with me – did I grab it? –  falling to the sloped roof, full pail of paint in hand, and wondering as I fall who will find me? Will I lie there all day, until the kids get off the school bus, or my husband arrives home from work? How broken will I be? Will I stay on the roof? Or roll to the edge and fall another ten or so feet to the ground? Will the gallon can fall away freely? Or land on my skull? An arm? A leg? Will I drown in paint? So many questions come to mind in that nanosecond that if feels as though I am falling for many seconds. More than enough time to hope it is not my children who find me, enough time to realize what a dumb thing I just did, and enough time to realize my life is never going to be the same again.

And then I land – BAM! I hit with enough force that I am jangled. Jolted. I hear a sharp intake of breath. And I am as surprised as you to learn that where I land is not on the roof. Nor is it on the ground. There is no ladder on top of me and I am not broken, although there is some – maybe a quarter of the pail – spilled paint. Even as I write this I hear the crash of the aluminum ladder as it makes contact…. with the house. The eave, to be exact. It takes another one of those nanoseconds for me to realize that I have not fallen down at all.  I am precisely where I was before I leaned back – on the ladder, leaning against the eave of the house. There is paint running down my right arm and hand, and as realization dawns on me that I am still in one whole and complete piece, my legs turn to rubber, and I must get off the ladder and sit down before I well and truly do fall off.

What just happened is not possible. It defies the laws of science – physics, gravity – everything we think we know. Unless you consider divine intervention. The hand of God, the hand of an angel,or perhaps many angels, reached out and pushed that ladder back toward the house. Pushed me back to wholeness, an unbroken physical body. And it pushed me into something else, although it took me some time to get there (years, actually but shhhh – don’t tell!) – a realization that there is more to life than the laws of science. There is more to life than THIS life. That impossible things are possible. For what is more impossible than defying the law of gravity? For me, Divine Intervention is the only explanation there is.

You can decide for yourself.