Why is it important to remember important past lives?

During the years when I had spontaneous past life regressions, I did not encounter my last life on Earth that had apparently been a Native, First Nations one, and I was feeling close to discovering it. As I left an offering of sage and quartz crystals on the mountain top I was standing on, hawks circled above me in a blue, blue sky. Pungent smells of pine and cottonwood trees drifted and I listened to the river song. It was spring of 2012 and I was camping near Sedona, Arizona. The Goddess was alive here and magic was afoot.

Many Saturdays were spent searching for my Indian mother when I was a child, and I recalled saying to my mother, “You are not my real mother! I am going into the woods to look for my real, Indian mother.” Thereafter, I would promptly stomp off on foot and head out to our back forest to look for her. Mum always gave me a confounded look, but said nothing. I have been told I was a precocious child, and my mother had been warned about me, being born on a Friday the 13th and she usually left me to my own devices. Every mound found in our forest backyard of 20 acres was an "Indian" burial site where I prayed to be in contact with my Indian ancestors.

When one first sees the red rocks of seducing Sedona, one’s heart skips a beat. Pulling over to the side of the highway I gasped as profound ecstasy filled my heart. Oh My Goddess! I stepped out of my vehicle and stayed for awhile, feeling I was a transducer of energy, and I saw there is harmony and cooperation between all species of Light, as I continued to contemplate Sedona’s beauty. I was completely overwhelmed. For two weeks I made pilgrimages into the different sites and cathedral canyons, exploring, meditating, and enjoying Mother’s beauteous red rock surroundings.

When I reached the inflow vortex of the Verde River that flows into the east red rock canyon near the Dead Horse Ranch, I sat for a long spell. Bluebirds flitted through the whispering willows. Suns' spears through trees activated my heart. The energy here seemed to focus on my emotional auric field, and I felt the need to “repent of my sins”. I had been drinking far too much wine and had, to some extent, recently slipped off my path. I realized it was not healthy for me to drink alcohol. Sitting and contemplating, I suddenly received a vision of Jesus. He stood beside me and held out his hand. This was confirmation to return to “the fold” and follow this inspirational “wayshower”. I recalled Mevlana’s saying, “Come, come, whoever you are, our caravan is not one of despair. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. Come. Even if you have broken your vows a thousand times, our caravan is not one of despair. Come yet again”. When the vision of Jesus receded a blue bird flew to a branch just above me and sang the sweetest song.

Another profound experience was at the Chapel of the Holy Cross Cathedral that an American woman had built high up on a red rock cliff facing east. Walking up deferentially and in stillness, I heard the sound of a cuckoo’s echo, and it felt ominous. I felt a powerful energy emanating forth from this site and immediately fell into an altered state. It was the only place in and around Sedona where this happened. As I stood between the cathedral and the red rock mountain, feeling on top of the world and sensing myself higher vibrational, a powerful voice suddenly declared, “Activator!” I saw no one, only clairaudiently hearing, “Activator”! I was stunned for a moment, but then realized that, yes, this is who I was, who I AM—an activator of humanity.

Walking slowly and reverently down the winding pathway back to my vehicle, surrounded by red rock cliffs, I again said, “Yes” to myself—confirming something I had known since I was 14 years old. I made a recommitment to honor my path as an Activator. I would respect this gift and continue to share my spiritual journeys.

Then it was time to leave seducing Sedona, and I headed north, leaving the warmer weather behind again, but bringing the Goddess energy in my heart forward, inviting Her to teach me more about life. Arriving at the Grand Canyon’s south rim in a snow storm, I was advised it would not be worth my $35 entry fee, as it was a white out. A blizzard had hit that day, and the canyon could not be seen. Since I was there, I decided to go in, regardless.

Looking for a parking spot, suddenly a snow-covered train blew through the terminus, just like in the movies. After finding a parking spot for my car and Boler trailer, I joined the other sightseers shuffling through the four inches of wet snow that had fallen. When I reached the spectacular Grand Canyon’s rim, a miracle occurred. The clouds split apart like they had been cut with a knife, and I could see into the canyon! Five glorious minutes of striking canyon vistas had opened beneath me, and my heart sang with joy! I said, "Goddess, show me, teach me. I am you. You are me! I love you!"

When hunger struck, I slipped into the El Tover Hotel dining hall, another deluge of snow swirling about me as I entered the door, quickly shutting it behind me. In out of the storm, I ordered a large salad plate and lingered with lemon pie topped off with coffee. I couldn't relax, sensing the beautiful, rustic log structure built by railroad gurus in 1908 and there was something weird about this site and hotel with Native artifacts scattered throughout. I had longed to be in Arizona for years and was finally here, just not certain why. Was this a place I had been to before? I allowed myself to be in the NOW, the present.

Having drunk far too much water with my meal, I had to go to the washroom, which was down a lengthy flight of stairs, into the womb of the building. On my way up from the washroom, I was suddenly overcome by vertigo and stumbled, grabbing onto the wooden railing. Feeling sick to my stomach, and my head spinning, I held the rail for several minutes, trying to regain my balance. I was reeling, shaking, thinking we had just had an earthquake. I had an earthquake, happening in my body. Slowly, I eventually continued walking up the stairs. Reaching the top, I saw a guard standing beside the staircase. A bear’s head was mounted on the wall behind him. I wondered what the guard was doing there. He looked familiar, although I did not recall seeing him when I went down the stairs. Still reeling and feeling sick to my stomach and faint, I wanted to throw myself into his arms.

I approached the gentleman and asked if we just had an earthquake. I mentioned I had felt the Earth move beneath me and felt myself falling. “No Ma’am,” he smiled, “There has not been an earthquake.” I felt quite sure at that moment that I had fallen—as a matter of fact, that I had fallen down a cliff. When I reached the top stair, I walked over to a lobby lounge chair and sat down. Then it hit me! This is where I had fallen and died in my very last life—down the Grand Canyon! I was stunned.

On my 30th birthday, my friends had taken me to get my ears pierced and to see a psychic. She told me many things, one of which was that I had been Native in my most recent past life and because I had not been careful, had fallen off a cliff and died. I occasionally thought about this episode and was reminded of it when my body was going faster than my mind allowed, and got into accidents. I had not thought to ask the psychic where the fall had occurred. A remark made by my Native spirituality teacher, O’Shinah Fastwolf, when I happily entered her classroom in Washington, DC many years ago, suddenly made sense. Thrilled to be learning the “old ways”, I had stopped to hug her, and she had laughed, saying, “You are one of us!”

I remembered—when hiking on narrow mountain trails on Mt. Baker, Washington, near where I grew up; as a child—I had often felt pulled over the edge by an unseen force that seemed to be propelling me to fall over the edge into the canyon. It was so compelling that from time to time, I almost felt like giving in and letting myself fall. These experiences all began to make sense now. I sat for a while, contemplating and realigning, until I had regained my composure. Then, the nausea lifted. It must have been the last emotion I felt before I fell to my death.

After I had recovered, touring the on-site stone Hopi house filled with authentic pottery, weaving, and jewelry, I let myself feel. It felt like my stuff. Hopi means “the peaceful people”, and I had often read their prophecies and enjoyed their songs.

As I wandered through the Hopi House, I recalled how for most of my life, I would end a written letter with the rising Sun symbol, one commonly used by the Hopi. When taking part in the 13 Spirit Grandmothers of Time ceremony a few years ago, representing the Lizard Grandmother, I had also received the Kachina symbols in a vision, and then in a bright vision had seen the Kachina Spirit Grandfathers, who are 13th dimensional beings and the counter part of the 13 Spirit Grandmothers of Time. Since that time, I felt connected to them also. The “Kachina” are the ancient Hopi grandfathers that hold the dreamtime; their symbol means strength of spirit, growth and abundance. I lovingly fondled the artifacts in the store as I wandered about. 

So, I had been Hopi in my previous past life and as I let the visions flow I saw I had been a spiritual guide and male scout, taking tourists down into the canyon. It was little wonder that Native American spirituality, sandstone structures, kivas, adobe interiors and exteriors and pine trees, have held me captive since childhood. The spiral, another Hopi symbol, has also always held significance for me, reconnecting with it when I learned Reiki. As I was seeing this past life I felt a piece of scattered soul merge into my soul from my auric field.

 My witchy Kachina/Spirit Grandmother Lizard shield hangs on the wall behind me speaking to me, reminding me as I write this story, and I feel as if I have come full circle in many ways. It feels complete to discover my last Earthly life. But do we have simultaneous lives going? Do I/we have other lives going in conjunction with this one? My knowing is saying “yes”, as I write and contemplate. . .