I was as pleased as punch when I read the comments my writing tutor had jotted down at the end of a chapter I’d handed in. It was about a woman having a stillbirth and my teacher, on reading the piece, assumed that it is something I have experienced. I am glad to say it isn’t, but I was thrilled that my depiction of it was so authentic.
Then, as I was chatting to a friend over coffee this morning, I realised that while doing The Journey process, I visited a supposed past life whereupon I was an Indian woman who had just given birth to a dead baby.
At the time, I wondered if it really was a past life or a clip that my over active imagination had created. This morning, I considered if there really was something in this. Did I connect with feelings I had experienced in a past life? Or was it just down to the fact that I spent a few days Googling ‘stillbirth’, looking at pictures of dead babies on the net and trying to put my feet in the shoes of a woman whose newborn didn’t take a breath? I’ll never know.
The friend I had coffee with is training to be a medium. I never realised she had an interest in the spirit world and some of the things she told me over a strong Americano were frankly, staggering.
We seem to be in a similar place she and I and I’m glad we have reconnected after a year or two of not seeing much of each other. She said she felt inspired by our chat, which is great, because so did I.
Spending time around people who lift me up, seems to be a key feature of this new me I am trying to carve out. We laughed this morning over the fact that we used to mock the sort of people who wore rainbow jumpers and rose quartz pendants, but now, we are actively seeking out their company. I may yet be seen in a primary coloured Appalachian knit…as long as it’s not too scratchy.
My soul has a plan for me.