|A view out my kitchen window. Ice fairies were busy skating here!|
I’ll be honest. I have wanted to get a past life regression done for some time, but the time must not be right for that yet. The hypnotists that I contacted in this new area where I live haven’t gotten back to me. So I’ve been opening up and listening in on my own. And what do you know…. I had a spontaneous awareness of a past life while I was cleaning my microwave the other day. But before I share how that happened, I want to introduce you all to Karl.
Karl is the guy I’m married to. He has a lot of awesome quirks and eccentricities. I like quirks. And eccentricities. Gradually over the time that I’ve known him, I have realized that most of his interests lie in the past. I brought this up to him the other day, and he did agree that this was quite uncanny. For example, he is interested in researching old local maps from the 1700’s to the turn of the century. Then he goes to these sites and does metal detecting for relics and old coins. He is only interested in reading old classic books, if he does any reading. He won’t touch a cigarette (too modern), but he wants to smoke a pipe. He is fascinated with living in an old colonial home, such as a log home, and we almost bought an old home like this. He dreams of owning a farm and farming it with old fashioned tractors pulled by horses. He is recently into wet shaving, the classic way that gents shaved before cartridge razors and canned shaving cream were invented. The razors he uses are one step away from a straight razor. He haunts old antique shops looking for old razors and shave relics, and then he collects them.
Karl is also intuitive. He knows when a crash is going to block a highway minutes before he sees the crash, and he gets flashes about his twin brother or family when something big happens.
Being intuitive and always interested in the past, I guessed that Karl would also be interested in past lives. He’s not interested yet.
So the other day, I was cleaning the microwave. It is above our stove, and so it is the same height as me. I basically had my head almost inside of it, and was just caught up in the repetitive scrubbing and wiping. I had my back to Karl, who was sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner. So, as I was scrubbing away, I suddenly saw Karl and I living in a stone home in England in the late 1700’s. We had pigs and chickens in a fenced in yard in front of the house, and I was always afraid that one of our children would wander into the mud and a pig would roll over top of them and crush them. We had 12 kids, and they loved Karl. At night they would sit on his lap, on his back, drape themselves over his arms, and sit on his feet. They would crawl over him like ants, and he loved them all. He was quiet and gentle. And he loved those kids. I liked how calm and unruffled he was. He rarely if ever showed emotion. I liked how he was a solid rock, and I could depend on him. But when I asked him what was going on in his mind, he couldn’t ever access that, and he just didn’t talk. Back then, I always wished he would talk more. I suddenly realized that his name in this life was Roger, and I was Darla.
The funny thing is, I call Karl “Roger” as a nickname, and I don’t know where I got it from! He just looks like his name should be Roger. He reminds me of the easy going, tall and lanky Roger from the animated “101 Dalmatians.” This Roger is always in a dream world, easy going and a little goofy. Karl is this way, and he even walks and moves like the animated Roger in this movie. In this life, Karl doesn’t hide his feelings at all… he talks all the time, much more than he did when he was Roger.
But I digress. As soon as the movie of Roger and my life had begun to play as I was mesmerized while cleaning the microwave, I suddenly turned around to tell Karl about it. But as I turned around, the shape of Karl’s long back hunched in his chair over his bowl of soup reminded me suddenly, “This is how Roger sat. He would come in from a long day of work at the farm in the dark, just like it’s dark now. He would sit and eat his soup like this with his back to me as I cleaned up the kitchen behind him. And he would sit his muddy shoes by the door just like Karl does now. And the stone wall. Oh. I wish I had treasured my time with him more when he was alive. He fell off that wall and died, and I was heartbroken. I always wished he would talk more, and I wasn’t content. But he was such a good man, so calm and gentle.”
Suddenly, I was about to cry remembering Roger back then, and how much I appreciated him and missed him. There were tears spurting up in my eyes, and I suddenly hugged Karl and said, “You’re back! You came back as Karl!”
I told Karl what happened, and I think he almost teared up as well, but I don’t think he completely believed it. Which is OK. We still call each other Roger and Darla.