Haven't We Met Somewhere Before?

Spiritual Humour

I have long harboured a secret desire to be Robert the Bruce. Afterall, I have the legs for a kilt (I also have the arms for a straight- jacket). I've often imagined myself running through heather-filled glens, with my sporran swinging freely in the breeze. A carry over from this highland life could be my love of whisky - I polish off a bottle a night!
       Many of us would like to think that in a previous life we have been sombody wildly exotic or important - at the very least a Pope or an Egyptian Queen. I might have been a vicious Viking warrior called Nigel or, more likely, an organ-grinder's monkey.

       With this in mind, I recently attended a professional workshop on Past Life Regression. Our class numbered around 20: young, middle-aged, old age and new age. One man had an orange Mohican, a bit unusual for a pensioner, but hey, this is Cornwall. The dress code ranged from jeans and t-shirt to Gandalf look-alikes.
       We were taken through a relaxing, guided meditation, and I found myself in a shallow hypnotic state. The lecturer approached each of us in turn and asked what we could see. True to form, most peoples experiences were of ordinary lives; soldiers from all periods of history and men and women working in service.

The teacher came over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder; here was my big moment...
       "Tell me where you are and what you see."

Cor Blimey...

I was a chimney sweep! Making a sweep exotic was even beyond the skills of Dick Van Dyke. To make matters worse, I used to steal from my clients (if any reader feels that in a previous life they were robbed by their chimney sweep, I hereby apologise, and no, you can't have your silver tankards back!).

Most people discussed their experiences calmly, until the teacher approached a large lady sitting to my left.
       "Tell me where you are and what..."

       "I AM VESUVIUS MAXIMUS," she roared, jumping to her feet, "AND I DEMAND RESPECT." Her voice rattling the light fittings,   "I COMMAND LEGIONS OF MEN AND I DO NOT SUFFER FOOLS GLADLY!"
       Was this Russell Crowe's auntie? I opened one eye and sneaked a look. Had we found an actress? The teacher obviously thought so,
       "No kidding." he said flatly, and quickly moved on.

As we chatted at the end of the session, the teacher explained that more information might come to us over the next few days, giving verification to our experiences. I was prompted to share my own understanding of this.

Dogon Tribe

      During a previous past-life experience, I had regressed to Mali, in Africa. This session had been recorded, but what I hadn't shared at the time, for fear of ridicule, was my awareness of a spinning vortex of light above me, which I took to be some kind of craft.
       Two days later I was telling a friend about the regression.
       "If you were in Mali, perhaps you were one of the Dogon Tribe," she suggested. "I have a film of them somewhere."
       We watched the film; the villages and towns were exactly as I had described them from memory.
       "They have a tradition of encounters with extraterrestrials," she said, "apparently, they knew about Sirius B, a star invisible to the naked eye, long before powerful telescopes discovered it."
       I was stunned; convinced I had imagined the spinning lights. Was new evidence now suggesting I hadn't?

At the end of the evening a strange vision made its way towards me. A man of around 60 came and sat at my side. He wore a bright purple shell-suit with brown brogue shoes, and he was sporting a Kevin Keegan perm.
       "You lak ze bum me up Scottie?" he said.
       I looked around for Matron.
       "I beg your pardon?"
       "Ze Shtar Treck, you like, yar? Captain Kirk?" He turned out to be German; my UFO story had intrigued him.. Within minutes of talking to him I felt

guilty about my initial reaction to his appearance. He was an interesting and polite man and we chatted intently for over an hour.

Past lives are intriguing; however the message I took home wasn't
'don't judge a book by its cover,' or indeed
'never judge a magazine by it's columnist,' but was in this case,

'never judge an owner by his shell suit!'

Nick takes a light-hearted look at Past-Life regression...