Wednesday, 10 July 2019

When Dreams Come True - A true story of a vision later appearing in real life

On my partner Andrew’s 50th birthday, 7th July, he took me to a place that holds special meaning for him, Alderley Edge: a place of myth and legend.  You may read about King Arthur, knights, white horses, fairies, caves, wizards and magic rocks at your leisure.  My purpose is not to repeat legends, but to guide you on a real-time journey.

Aside - Previously, on 13th June, the same night I’d had my operation, whilst lying in the hospital bed listening to the hoot of the owl, I had a vision.  If I haven’t already explained that I’m prone to visions, now you know.  This particular vision included sitting atop a hill surrounded by trees, which I thought was odd, as the top of most mountains are bare.  It was the date of Andrew’s 50th birthday and I could see the place quite clearly.  I told Andrew about it and said on his birthday it would be good if we went to a place of his choosing, as I felt sure he knew the place, and I didn’t.  I also felt we were “meant to be there” which I accept is vague.

He’d planned for us to go to Shuttlingsloe, a place he likes so much he named his blog site after it, but we were a bit lazy in getting up on the Sunday and at the last minute he said we could get lunch at The Wizard at Alderley Edge and maybe we’d have time for a walk afterwards.

The Wizard (great food and ambience!) site of legend

We lunched; we walked.  As we entered the woods, I had a certain feeling of deep enjoyment, of “already knowing” the place, although I knew I’d never been there in this life and seen it with my bodily eyes.

Feeling familiar

Perhaps you also know the sensation of déjà vu about places?

Unexpectedly, in my mind’s eye, I flew back and forth to Glastonbury, as though a connection existed between the two places.  I felt deeply connected with this particular woodland.  On the way, Andrew led me inside a cave for a Geology lesson.

“He’s my rock”, I thought, as I tried to absorb what he was telling me about how the pebbles embedded in the sandstone had come from Wales many moons ago.  Even the land upon which we stand moves over time, I thought, connecting places and people.

Human life is so transitory.  Luckily soul life is eternal, and our souls possess memory, embedded within us like the pebbles in the stone, connecting us across time and space.  Our souls hear the whispers of the rocks and trees; our inner eye remembers.

The vision comes true

We walked up a small hillside to one of the highest points on Alderley Edge: The Armada Beacon.  There are no pictures of the beacon: I was lost in the moment.

We sat down on the stone at the site of the beacon where a plaque exists.  There were the trees on top of the hill, just like there had been in my vision.  Andrew sat to my right, just as he did in my vision.  This was the place I’d already seen, and here we were, on the date given - in my vision.

The beacon had been built as part of a warning system, alerting the North of England that the Spanish Armada had been sighted on the south coast.  Did I have some kind of connection with the Spanish Armada in 1588, I briefly wondered?  But this rang no bells for me.

Then without prompting, Andrew told me the back story of the place where we sat.  There had formerly been a small building on the site, and before that (we’re talking centuries) it had been a Bronze Age burial ground.  Admittedly, Bronze Age is rather ancient, even for an old soul like me!

I had to smile: here we were, sitting inside another vision, atop another hillside, connected to a place of ancient stones and yet another burial ground.  It’s becoming the story of my life!

What was the significance?  Well, who knows?  Visions for me do not always come with an obvious meaning when they first arise, but they tend to take on greater meaning over time.  As time passes and our growth takes place, we may gain further insight into what we have previously seen.

Was there relevant symbolism to be gained?  The alder tree perhaps holds significance: it is a symbol of strength, courage and for a favourable outcome in battle.  The Druids believed the alder tree symbolised a balance between male and female and has association with the evolving spirit.  In Celtic tradition the alder was a symbol of resurrection.  So, as themes go, these are all topics that regularly revolve around my consciousness.

Making dreams come true. Literally.

For now, this true short story provides me with an opportunity to express the reality of the connection between collective consciousness, soul memory, place and a vision that later manifests in reality.  It serves to illustrate that time is not linear.  It leads me into a body of work that I am planning and regularly crafting, that I hope to make available to a wider audience soon.

I would love to know whether you have had a similar experience of clearly “seeing” a place during a vision and subsequently it materialises in reality.

Comments are switched off on this blog but I reproduce my writing on my Facebook page where comments are most welcome. Thank you for reading. Rachel xx
Friday, 28 June 2019

Repeating Numbers Signs from the Universe 222

For people who do not currently see themselves as being on a spiritual path, it must be a bit weird to read about other people’s stories of seeing repeating numbers (as one possible type of guidance). I can see how the rational mind says, “you’re having a laugh, that’s just coincidence” I mean at first I thought it was a bit bonkers myself.

It's taken a good while and some proof to evolve into a space of “this is totally okay, because we’re living symbiotically in a responsive universe.” I guess what seems woo to some, is wow to others.

I’ve been at this numbers game since 2016, a year in which I had a powerful surge in ability to communicate with benevolent entities in the spiritual realm.

It freaked me out, for sure! Now I’m cool with it and I know it’s time for me to start sharing my experiences with you.

Today, I had a little gift that I’d like to share - a tiny snippet in time to show how specific this can be. This is what just happened: I was sitting here working, when suddenly an instruction appeared in my mind, to “Look up the current position of the Moon”.

I’ve no idea who’s talking and it doesn’t matter. I’m like “Okaaaay” – but I heard it loud and clear, and I don’t question myself anymore, I just do it.

So I looked up the Moon’s position and here is the percentage in the screenshot. 22.2 which made me laugh out loud. It’s not really a surprise for me as I keep seeing multiples of 2 and my life-path is 22. But today I was guided to share this with you which I rarely do. You're seeing real time Rachel not reflective Rachel.

The message is TWO-fold (obviously). A message for me personally. And a message for YOU. Microcosm and Macrocosm. Where the inner world mirrors the outer manifestation.

The message for me, is that since recovering from my operation, I’m no longer on menopause drugs, and my monthly cycle is free to start up again. I’m highly conscious of the moon’s influence on women’s monthly cycles. It feels like a message to say yes you’re on the right path of balance (2 represents harmony and balance). My creative sacral chakra (the SECOND chakra) has been freed up from disease to work in harmony with the cosmos as I co-create in this next phase.

Is it any accident I’ve just finished reading Moonology by Yasmin Boland? I don’t think so!

And on a wider level, 22 is all about bringing the spiritual into a physical manifestation. Building something that can be SEEN – because your eyes can see these twos just as mine can. It’s about taking action to co-create – doing it in harmony and cooperation with all others. And I guess today somebody up there wanted me to pass on a little snippet of evidence.

Somebody, somewhere needs to see this 😊

Is seeing believing or is believing seeing? You choose.

Oh and by the way, I typed this up on the next available Word document, which just happened to be Document 22 😊

Peace, love and understanding 🙏👂🌖💫🌟

If you'd like to read about interpretations of these numbers, I find the Willow Soul website has very gentle and accurate interpretations
Click here for the page on why you are seeing 222 

Friday, 7 June 2019

Patrick Bronte’s anniversary. In celebration of Good Fathers and Good Men

Today 7th June marks the anniversary of the death of Patrick Bronte, 7th June 1861 at the age of 84.  A father who brought up not one, but three literary geniuses, and cared for the lives of his family and a great many parishioners, is surely worthy of celebration.  I'd like to take the opportunity to present Patrick's characteristics as I see them, because I think he has much to teach us about what makes a good man and a good father.

Rev Patrick Bronte

A little about Rev Patrick Bronte

The current exhibition at the Bronte Parsonage Museum in Haworth for 2019 is dedicated to Patrick and entitled “In Sickness and in Health”.  Seeing Rev Bronte’s many tomes of medical books scrawled with his handwritten notes is both sad and profound.

Patrick was deeply concerned about the health and general wellbeing of those around him.  In those days where those in poverty could not access a doctor, it fell to men of the clergy, who were literate, to look up symptoms and diseases so they could offer advice to parishioners on ailments and cures.
Patrick took this responsibility very seriously, as any right-thinking person would, considering ill health is really a matter of life or death.

He was profoundly concerned about the health of his own family and endured the sadness of having outlived his wife and six children (and sister in law, and housekeeper).  Those bereavements came in sporadic clusters throughout different times of his life.  There was little chance to recover from one loss before another was upon him – I can only imagine his deep belief in the benevolent will of God and continued service to others helped him through those sustained losses.  It must have been terrible to experience that level of grief without a partner by his side, the first loss being his wife.

You might be forgiven for thinking that good men with medical books may be needed again, if you observe the dismantling and under funding of the seventy-one-year-old National Health Service in the UK right now.

The Crumbling of the Patriarchy

In this age of global awakening, many are rising whilst others resist the process.  We see many clinging onto lower vibration energies of competition, ruthlessness, abuse, bullying and domination.  With the rise of the divine feminine, so too her polar opposite is rearing its ugly head: toxic masculinity.

Today I would like to celebrate non-toxic men and take a look at their characteristics, using Rev Patrick Bronte as my yardstick.

Rev Patrick Bronte – what can he teach men today?

Power plays and abuses of power are something that Patrick Bronte strongly opposed.  When exposed to displays of abuses of power, he called out these behaviours, named them, sought the truth and encouraged others to do so.

He was passionate in thought, word and deed, courageous in going against the grain of the norm.  He rejected selfishness, greed and competition.

He was outspoken, especially when speaking up on behalf of others who did not have a voice. 

He accepted his own connection with the emotional and spiritual bodies and did not make the mistake of relying on brute force and mental power, as some men do.  In fact, he dedicated his life’s work to service through religion.

He was proactive in seeking social justice but strongly opposed to violent methods.  As I write this I also think of the heroic and selfless acts of those who gave service in WWII as yesterday was the anniversary of D Day (6th June 1944).

Although greatly impressed by the military, Patrick saved his fighting powers to fight for freedom, justice, truth, health and education.  Many would be wise to follow his lead.

He possessed strong physical energy including a connection with and a deep respect for nature.

He brought up his daughters to attain a high level of education and encouraged wide readership and independent thought.  There was no expectation of making a marriage for money, only for love.  His daughters were not defined by their physical appearance, nor their willingness and ability to pander to a man.

It’s my own opinion that his daughters’ abilities with divine, intuitive, mystical powers were more advanced than his own, however, Patrick created an environment where spirituality and a connection with nature were the foundations of life and the world has reaped the rewards of his daughters’ work ever since.

He knew first-hand the personal devastation brought on by watching loved ones in ill health and the grief of separation, which afforded him deep empathy for others.

Additionally, Patrick was the one conducting the very many funerals of parishioners in Haworth during times of poor sanitation and short life expectancy.  If ever there was a man with the very greatest of responsibilities, he was that man.  He worked and campaigned for better health and sanitation (clean water) for his village.  Additionally, he opened a Sunday school and was a passionate advocate for education.

Support for men

When Patrick’s son Branwell was suffering with addiction, alcohol and drug abuse, Patrick took him into his own bed to look after him and watch over him.  Men deserve close, loving support.  They deserve the right to be heard as they express whatever is going on for them emotionally.

Where is the support for men who feel deeply?  With male suicide at an all-time high, there’s something drastically wrong with society.  The effects of thousands of years of Patriarchy are being felt across our worlds as we move into a new era.

We need to step up the emotional, psychological and spiritual support for men who feel deeply and stop defining men by their ability to ruthlessly cut down everyone and everything in their path in a race to make it to the top of the tree.  This is nothing to aspire to.  I believe we can create a better world by simple acts we individually take.  Rather than waiting for someone else (an authority) to take control or step in and help, by learning how to better listen and take care of each other we can make great strides.

Women are supporting each other as we rise: the internet has been a wonderful leveller, as women now have access to each other.

In these days of global awakening, political disruption, a rising of the right and everything that accompanies toxic masculinity, we must not forget the good guys.

Men need support, love and respect.  Many men are suffering as they come to terms with their own emotions and what it’s safe to disclose and how best to act as we move forward.  The act of integrating the masculine and feminine qualities within us all is no mean feat.

As a woman who has suffered abuse and suppressed my own voice for years, I imagine it must be so much harder for a man to disclose how he has suffered and to attain the love and support required to feel worthy.

I want to celebrate the men looking after the planet, protecting their partners and children, looking out for the next generations and working to secure a fair society for all.  I would like to see support for men who have been estranged, rejected, abandoned, alienated, abused and those suffering with addictions.

I was lucky enough to be brought up by a wise, intelligent father who was in touch with his emotions and spirituality and I'm grateful for the twenty years we spent together.  His wisdom, conviction and humour were his strengths.  His foundation has seen me through some very bad times and his words still resonate with me now, particularly "honesty is the best policy".

I am truly grateful for the men in my life both past and present who are emotionally and spiritually capable and for their support and love.  If you know some good men, celebrate them.  And if you know some bad 'uns, distance yourself, love yourself, protect yourself.

Call out their fake news.  Seek only good news.

I conclude with the last verse of an incredibly long poem called The Rainbow, written by Rev Patrick Bronte for no reason other than I love it!

"This fountain is opened for you:
    Go, wash, without money or price;
    And instantly formed anew,
    You'll lose all your woes in a trice.
    Then cease, foolish heart, to repine,
    No stage is exempted from care;
    If you would true happiness find,
    'Tis on Calvary, seek for it there.

Tuesday, 4 June 2019

The New Old House

A poem I wrote about living in our new home, which is also my old home.

Bending to mind my head in the attic
Of the tall house
I gaze out of the velux window
Crane my neck to gain a higher perspective
My heart stirs and softens to hear
The birds chirp a different song
To the squawk I’d grown accustomed to

Trees bulge with fresh new leaves
The walls inside flaky through neglect  
Cracks between the skirting boards
Perished plaster leaves the coat rail perched precariously  

Unconscious memory plays in every room
As I glide effortlessly down the back steps
Find the height of the old washing line, just right
Then I leave the door ajar
For the cat to squeeze through
Before I remember she departed three years back

In the kitchen
I look out from the large horizontal window
At the expansive horizon
Down across the overgrown garden
At my overgrown children
The ones I imagined would grow up
On the green green grass of home
But who played by the crashing of the waves instead

He’s blasting his football against
What’s left of the pergola
The one with the tatty broken fairy lights
And she’s upside down, whizzing through
Cartwheel, handspring, walkover
Always imagined seeing them play like this
Just never predicted the bit in between

Memory takes me back ten years
To constant vomiting
Someone special was growing inside me
No bigger than the little strawberries
Now growing in my old patch
Now look at her
Now look at me

The only thing growing inside me now
Is this disease
It’s time for it to be set free
On the horizon I see
A reversal of fortune

Friday, 17 May 2019

Anxiety and the Flu

People appear to be sharing their stories of anxiety for mental health awareness week, so I’m sharing an extract of the emotions I was called to process when I had the flu last month. I retreated, disappeared, reflected. I felt terrible. This was my experience of anxiety.


During April I was poorly. I mean for the whole month and a little longer after that too.
First off, the symptoms were like a chest infection and the nurse thought so too, as she prescribed antibiotics

I was mentally okay at this point.  I thought, I’ve been here before, but I’ll be alright
The antibiotics didn’t work and I was totally wiped out but kept going, as you do when you have work and kids and stuff to do

But then I started getting scared

Scared that I knew I needed to rest and couldn’t rest enough

Scared that I wasn’t getting better

Scared that my breathing was getting worse every day

And then one morning I was desperately short of breath, and couldn’t find my inhaler.  I grew more anxious by the minute until I was asking my children to find my inhaler.  They’ve never seen me have an asthma attack before

Next thing I was whispering to my son, you know how to call 999?

Moments later, utterly unable to breathe, lolling on the floor by the piano, gasping for air, I thought I don’t know what happens next

My anxiety grew as my breath diminished

Like some kind of angel, in walked my daughter with my inhaler that she’d found in yesterday’s rucksack

It took six puffs to restore me to an acceptable level of breathing

I’d completely forgotten that Salbutamol can cause anxiety.  I was wracked with it

My head whirring with pure fear around the inability to breathe alternating with anxiety which made 
me feel even more like I couldn’t breathe

And always this terror of what happens next? Fear, fear, fear

I managed to recover enough to stabilise the breathing, but that anxiety stayed with me, my limbs trembling

At the onset of the next asthma attack later in the day, the same thing happened again

No doctor available, so it was straight to hospital

Various tests later they told me I had flu. No wonder I was struggling to do anything: dense limbs, aching and shortness of breath


And there it was.  FLU.  One word with a thousand memories
You see, I had flu the first time I was raped, nineteen years ago
I blamed myself for too long, for years, that it was my own fault for not being able to fight him off with my aching limbs.  I conflated the two things.

I know, I know, after almost 19 years have passed, that it wasn’t my fault at all.  I know that in the six months that followed and all the attacks that followed, I was still unable to fight him off.

But that doesn’t stop my body from panicking when I have flu. Because once upon a time I had both flu and was raped

And the two things circle my mind and emotions in the blender of time and experience, flu and rape, flu and rape, mashing it all as one until the two become inseparable

And I am back there again recalling the incident and I feel like I can’t breathe (and I really can’t because I have the flu) but I also can’t live like this, in terror, and now the lack of ability to breathe, the whole sustenance of life also joins in the emotional blender game and my memories merge

And I can’t get a grip on my breathing

And it all goes round and round

And people are still being raped, and attacked and abused, and I can't breathe because there's too much of it and people need to STOP doing this to each other! 

And people don’t understand that this kind of memory never truly leaves

I KNOW it’s not happening right now, but I feel it as though it’s happening now because I have flu now and I’m recalling nineteen years ago like it was a minute ago and I can’t breathe

Exhaustion and depression

Exhaustion arrived and with it a recollection of depression, the close friend of anxiety.  The memories of being diagnosed with mild depression because I thought it was too hard to tell the doctor I’d been raped and felt suicidal

I felt like nothing and nothing and nothing and nothing

He’d taken something away from me that wasn’t his to steal.  Blackness was all around.  I wore black all the time like I was constantly attending my own funeral on repeat.

How I climbed out of this?

So I’m okay again now.  The flu is over, I can breathe again and these memories don’t hold me hostage.  I didn’t climb out of it.  I let it rise up and allowed it to come through and come out.

It was hideous, experiencing it all again.  I guess technically it’s PTSD.  Still, it felt like the right thing to do to let it out and talk about it.

I cannot change what has passed.  Those memories sadly are held in my body, mind and soul forever, because they happened.  And on occasion I suppose they will come back to haunt me in the emotional blender of the spinning wheels of energy that circumvent the body and spirit.

I cannot change what has happened, but neither am I held hostage in the mental scripting of yesteryear.

Any time we recall and truly feel our genuine emotions it’s both brave and hard.  I take a deep breath and find my lungs are once more filled with the oxygen I need.

I moved on. Shifted.  Released.

That episode is over – again – for now.

My viewpoint on the abortion laws – Pro Women, pro baby, pro spirit

In Alabama a law has been passed that does not allow women to have an abortion.  You can read many viewpoints about this all over the internet.  It’s almost as if this anti-abortion law has been made by men who have zero sensitivity, zero psychic awareness and a terror of those who do.  Oh, wait.

In this post, I offer my own spiritual viewpoint on a subject I care about deeply and think about frequently, which is the passage of souls between lives.  I’ve always had a special penchant for the incoming and outgoing of human life, what we do when we’re here and in the afterlife.

The law makers

Those who have made the law appear to be so furious that a woman might “play God” that they have decided to “play God” first.  Let’s name what this is: bonkers, fear-based, self-righteous Patriarchy masquerading as religion.  Many humans have been operating like this for the best part of thousands of years.

Don’t like that women have a voice?
Oh well just burn what they wrote and pretend it never happened.

Women with psychic gifts?
Burn them too.

Women have really had enough of this performance on repeat.

Someone needs to tell these guys that a woman’s power is not to be feared but celebrated.  Where any law (or thinking) hurts and vexes others, then it’s born of fear or hate, not love.

When does a spirit baby enter a mother’s body?

Most of the “debate” seems to centre on the moment at which the soul or spirit enters a mother’s body.

I doubt very much that these people can SEE or feel (as some of us can) when the spirit of a baby 
enters the mother’s body.  You know the best person who knows that?  The mother!!  The people who are saying “heartbeat” as the start of life, seem to have lost touch with theirs.

Incoming spirits don’t all work in the same way.  Same as we don’t all die in the same way and with the same issues pressing on us.  All journeys of the human soul are infinitely complex.  Anyone attempting to force a black and white scenario is rejecting this truth.  I’d take a wild guess it’s rooted in fear of the complexity of their own soul’s eternal journey.  Life ain’t for the faint-hearted.

Some spirit babies will hang around their parents for years – they have already made their parental choice, perhaps even before the parent was born.  Waiting for the right time and scenario.  Other spirits are hanging round in the ether, wondering whether they’d like to come back to earth at all – and frankly, who could blame them? 

Spirits are highly aware prior to the whole birth process.  Spirit babies are NOT idiotically jumping in to inhabit a mass of cells the size of a kidney bean.  A woman knows intuitively she’d be taking on a world of emotional pain to bear a child she didn’t want.  The merging process happens around halfway through pregnancy, but even so, that’s a generalisation.

Whatever stage you’re at in your own awareness around these topics, I’d highly recommend some reading around the soul journey of spirit babies.  Walter Makitchen’s book Spirit Babies is wonderful.

I feel it’s such a shame that in our society we don’t honour the spirit part of ourselves nearly enough.

Where’s the baby’s spirit?

A spirit baby usually hovers near the top of the mother’s head.  Sometimes a mother will “see” the baby through her inner eye (third chakra) perhaps in the future life form or the spirit may appear as they did in a previous life they shared together.

Some women will not see at all but perhaps get an intuitive feeling.  The mother may even reject their intuitive feelings, because it’s not commonplace to talk about this stuff.

In a totally unplanned and unwanted pregnancy, I believe it’s possible that there may be no spirit baby at all.  There will be spirits helping and guiding the mother, but possibly no incoming spirit baby at that time.

Around halfway through pregnancy the spirit baby descends into the womb.  No one commits murder through an abortion.  If the spirit baby is there, they will communicate with the mother.  The moment “life” begins is when the baby takes an independent breath outside of the mother’s womb and inhabits their own physical bodily form that they will inhabit during this lifetime.

Women all over the world are explaining they do not regret having had an abortion and went on to be happy, loving mothers – it’s respectful and right to believe them.

Women know what’s best for their bodies, souls and emotions when you empower them to make loving, intuitive decisions.

But what if that soul is meant to be born?

This argument rages, doesn’t it?  What if you’re aborting a future mega scientist?

If the spirit of a baby is meant to “come through” and be born on this earth, then regardless of whether a woman chooses to terminate a pregnancy, the spirit baby will find another mother, another means of being born.

The law is at odds with the complexity of human life

Human beings and human life are infinitely complex.  This is the whole problem with the law, which by definition attempts to make things black or white, right or wrong, when so little is.

Divine feminine power

This anti-abortion law is nothing but denial that a woman’s strength lies in her possession of inner wisdom, connection to ancestors, the collective consciousness, and to the spirit realm.

Toxic masculinity

The imbalanced masculine energy here is seen in the extreme focus on the bodily aspect of this debate, an insistence that physicality and mental power are all that exists.  It’s a rejection of the spiritual and emotional bodies that we all possess and a rejection of divine feminine power held within us all.

There is nothing godly about interfering with a woman’s divine intuition, it’s just more of the same old boring damaging Patriarchal influence.

The signal sent to men by this law is not a good one, it reinforces old habits where men are in control of women’s bodies.  That has to end.

The balanced feminine

Undoubtedly if a woman is in a situation where a termination is a possibility, something has gone awry, manifested in an infinite number of possible situations.

At that moment, she needs all the loving, gentle, graceful help and wisdom she can gather – which may come from human helpers of any gender or from angelic realms, or she may access the intuitive guidance from within.
Regardless, it has to come from a place of emotional connection with the balanced feminine energy.

Left alone to freely develop skills of inner wisdom, women will freely make the “right choice” based on the most loving thing to do, taking everything into consideration.

This law is the reopening of an old collective wound.  We heal this by healing ourselves, from the inside.  By getting in touch with our inner wisdom, bringing masculine and feminine energies within us back into balance.  Talking about spirit, and about emotions.  Integrating all parts of ourselves, knowing where we are out of alignment ourselves and working to heal that.

The way forward lies in the empowerment of women, education of women, celebration of women.  Doing everything with LOVE! 

Last night’s dream. The Baby, the Cow and the Lioness

It's rare I write down dreams so quickly, let alone publish them on the internet. But that's exactly what I've done:

Last night's dream

I was alone in a room of a house I didn’t know with a sleeping baby girl.  There was no mother.  Ran to the window to find the mother.

Opened it a little and saw a woman in the distance running away. She might have been floating.  A cow came to the window, looking very sad. She didn’t know where her babies were either.

The cow lifted her leg up as though we were going to hold hands, but she changed into a lioness.  The lioness reached her large paw inside the window and grabbed my hand, pressing it to the window frame.  She was strong and her paw felt hard, rough and spikey.  At first, I was afraid of her but then I realised she was giving me a message.  We held hands for a while and the dream ended.


When I woke, I thought over the details of the dream and realised it was a manifestation of getting so aggravated yesterday about the law that has been passed in Alabama making abortions illegal.

There is a lot that I wanted to say about it, but I stopped myself because my viewpoint seems so different to what others are sharing.  I think in my dream I’m being urged to share my thoughts – perhaps the lioness represents my fear about what others will say (about what I know and can see).

The baby represents an unwanted baby that has been forced to be born by the new laws.  The mother is running away.  The mother intuitively knew she didn’t want the baby but had no choice – she was unable to terminate.  She also represents the dead, absent mother (she’s on the other side of the window).  The birth of an unwanted baby might mean a literal or metaphorical death to the mother, as could an illegal, dangerous abortion.

Better to allow a termination than have a newborn who cannot be cared for.

The cow represents the way we treat animals for their milk and meat.  No respect, no care.  All take take take, forcing her into a position of passivity.  She’d had her babies taken away from her.  She is forced into submission while her milk is stripped away.  Her life cycle is one of giving without choice.

Dishonouring the cow in the way society does, represents the oppressive treatment of women throughout the centuries – and the treatment of women right now in Alabama.  The old wounds are rising up for healing.  The Patriarchy’s dark heavy ego is having its final shot at control before it crumbles.

Briefly wondered whether the cow was here to feed the motherless baby like in Wuthering Heights and then I’m back to thinking about windows and motherless babies.

The lioness comes to remind us that not all females of the species are passive!  There is plenty to be angered about when you consider laws passed by men affecting female bodies.  I find it interesting that animals came to speak with me in the dream – they have a much better affinity with the true nature of nature than humans.

The lioness.  I think of my own mother, a Leo.  I think of Charlotte Bronte and feel sure she referred to herself as the lioness in her alter ego as writer.  I think of the fierce love given by mothers when they want to protect their offspring.  And I think of my own inner voice that is so sick and tired of being repressed I might just roar when it comes out.

The lioness held my hand.  She stands with me.  She stands with all women over this utter nonsense.
Monday, 22 April 2019

The Social Media Disappearing Act

Tonight involved a massive clear out and overhaul on social media.  I removed myself from around 20 groups for the sake of sanity.  Rather than talk about it, I’ve vanished.  Poof!  Gone.  Obviously haven’t actually disappeared, same as the people who choose not to be on social media in the first place are still in existence, they just choose not to live their lives online.

My plans for the next year involves transformation and creation.  I realise now that is probably best done away from the madding crowd.  Been feeling the need to retreat.

What is it about being ill that creates such deep feelings of unease, lowness and burden?  The darkest feelings that so often slip under the radar, hidden even from ourselves, come hurtling back during times of illness when we’re forced to be still enough to examine them.  During the past couple of weeks, struggling to breathe has brought up a lot of unresolved issues for me.

Struggling to breathe is a frightening experience.  I feel as though I’ve been gasping for support for too long, and finally as the support arrives and the troops rally, my body gives in and brings home to me all the issues that have been lying buried.  Unexpected aspects of the past have popped up.  It was a shock to find I’d been lying to myself over some things.  Remembered just how many times I allowed rational thinking to override my gut, put on a fake smile and pretend everything was fine.  It’s hard not to view massive chunks of my life as a colossal waste of time.

I tell myself that growth, healing and expansion takes time.

“Push through, Rachel.  Act like everything is normal,” my head would tell me.

But I am too tired to pretend anymore.

Last year, through a series of realisations, I came to believe in the concept of karma.

I also believe that if more people truly understood the way that karma works, there would be fewer atrocities and acts of terror in the world.  I feel unreal right now, as though I am watching events on earth (and people’s reactions) from another place or time.

I read people’s social media posts and feel a certain level of unrealness again, sometimes there’s this overwhelming feeling of Groundhog Day.  Anything with that feeling makes me want to sweep it aside with hurricane force.  Anything old, tired, repetitive and overdone I wish to burn away.

One of the most annoying symptoms of the flu has been the level of sticky mucus coming to the surface that I’m near choking on.  The stickiness appears to be running in parallel to the issues buried inside me that are still coming unstuck.

No one said waking up to a higher perspective and level of awareness was going to be a smooth ride.

I could tell you about the million synchronicities that happen every day.

I could tell you about my visions.

I could tell you my dreams where I can hardly catch my breath as to which life I’m living.

Instead, it feels right to do a disappearing act and to rebalance within, to realign and find some peace.

Tuesday, 16 April 2019

The Meaning I Found at Top Withins

A blog post on the meaning I found during a walk to Top Withins, 6th April 2019. Top Withins (or Top Withens) is said to be the likely site of Emily's Bronte's novel Wuthering Heights.


It’s all we’re ever in control of.  Ourselves, that is.  Our minds and bodies whilst we’re here on earth.
The answer to everything is to look WITHIN!

That’s the meaning I found up there, breathing in the freshest air available to man (and woman) on the ascent to Top Withins (I'll use this spelling simply to labour the point of the word).


At the meeting of the waters, I felt guided to stop awhile and meditate.  Like a tuning fork finding the right pitch, the vibration of my soul was thrilling on a familiar tone.  Something needed to come through.  The sun seemed to shine more brightly at that moment.  With pure intent and serious heart, I stood up to face the sun with my hands in prayer position.

Facing the sun, I said the sincerest prayer of my life.  Every word uttered fell from my inner world with meaning and my heart moved.

The rest of the hill top climb I did with palms facing upward to the sun.  Our hands are an extension of our hearts.  I was keen to let the light of the sun penetrate my heart.

As we approached Middle Withins, there was a sign, a natural crossroads.  At various points in life we all come to our own crossroads.  If only we can pause and look clearly at the signs we’re given, we’ll be able to see the best route.

At that moment, a clear cross appeared on the horizon, made by the jet streams of two crossing aeroplanes.  The angle was “right” and the sign felt like a gift.

We paused for a moment again and sat on the ruined walls of Middle Withins.  I thought of those who’d lived here in times gone by.  What a view of the valley!  I thought of how short a time we occupy this earth and what we do with it.  The meaning we make of our lives and our purpose here.

My mind turned to Emily Bronte and the likely situation of her novel Wuthering Heights being Top Withins, now a short walk above us.

And there it was.  The answer.  Staring me in the face.


The answer to everything can be found if only we will look within, not without.  When we look within ourselves, we’ll find some things we like, and some aspects of ourselves that are not so good.  We all find our own top, middle and bottom withins.

To my left, I looked down and saw the trees surrounding Bottom Withins.  Only nature survived there: the walls merely a mass of crumpled stones now.  Middle Withins had recognisable foundations and form, and as I sat meditating there now, I realised I’ve been languishing at my own middle within, playing small, perhaps for too long, and it was time to follow the upward path, even if  that meant treading it alone.

Just then a family with a little girl appeared.  She and I waved at each other with a natural affinity, and I knew the power of future generations – we’re here to pave a brighter path for them.  As she was walking ahead of us, I wondered whether the future generations were leading us, rather than us leading them.  We owe it to them to reach for the heights, to shine a light on the best path to tread.  I hoped that little girl would always follow the path to her own top withins.

I looked up and thought of Top Withins, a much more solid structure, no longer preserved as a dwelling but still with many recognisable features, form and structure.

The meaning gained clarity: the higher we reach within, the more solid our own foundations and structures will be.

The heights may be a terrifying place to dwell, as all who have read Wuthering Heights will know.  Still, reach for your own heights anyway.  For your soul’s own unique potential.  Emily knew that reaching for the heights could be a lonely place.

When we reach higher and higher, we may feel like we’re wuthering, with no man beside us.  There, we may feel our only solace is to seek our long-lost soul companions.

Always remember, you are never alone.

For just above you, hover the angels waiting with love to guide you.

God’s celestial team know where you came from and they’ll be waiting with loving arms when you return from the homestead to the one true home.  The trig point just above Top Withins stands at 444, the cosmic number of the angels.

May you find your own “Top Within” and always take the highest path.

Rachel xxx

Monday, 15 April 2019

Diary paper 15 April 2019 Notes from the Sofa: The Flu

Diary paper 15 April 2019
Notes from the Sofa: The Flu

Undoubtedly the most boring thing I’ve ever written.

Woke up with pains in head and chest
Coughed a lot
Remembered Mum had stayed over after they brought me back from hospital
Children had gone to their Dad’s last night, they hugged me goodbye when I was on the trolley with that thing on my face
Today felt like a day to be looked after rather than do the looking after
Took paracetamol
Looked at phone. Saw date. 15 April.
Thought of Maria Bronte, Titanic, Hillsborough and Leonardo Da Vinci
Went on Twitter but felt ill
Sent follow up email from phone to clients
Ate breakfast Mum had made for me
Thought how nice it was to have Mum stay over
Drank honey and lemon
Slept a little on sofa with mouth open
Woke up sweaty
Coughed more but not like yesterday’s asthma where I was lolling on the floor by the piano unable to speak or breathe
Briefly thought about what happened in hospital
Memory a bit blurry

Took ibuprofen as head pain still bad
Messaged friends and Andrew
Mum offered to change bedding
Mum offered me more food
Encouraged mum to eat and enjoy herself, not just look after me
Laid on sofa, motionless, aware but with no thoughts
Sat up and drank more tea
Mum pegged out and set tumble drier off
There was a lot of washing
Went hot, cold, blankets on, blankets off
Ate lunch that Mum prepared; couldn’t taste it
Watched mum iron bedding
Wondered how many people bother to iron bedding
Felt five years old again
Observed how her ironing style hasn’t changed in 36 years
Messaged friends and Andrew
Drank more tea
Noticed little things like repeating numbers popping up everywhere
Sent screenshots of synchronous things to friends who get it
Listened to mum talking about laundry in the olden days and how Nana used Dolly Blue and starch and how Monday was wash day
Today is Monday and washday, we observed
Thought about how nice it was to live with Mum when I was little
How I enjoyed living with friends at uni and times I’ve had lodgers
Thought about how nice it is to live with kind people
How I’m frequently sick of feeling isolated
Mum finally sat down
We drank tea together
I’m off coffee
Threw blankets off, and took socks off, too hot
Raked over the past with Mum at my insistence, not hers
She’s not into reflecting, she’s into doing
Talked about how lucky I was to have her and Dad around when I was little
Talked about how I still feel sad about not seeing my children every day and how I’m still adjusting to that
Put blankets back on and got hot water bottle on chest
Chatted about the past nine years
A cycle coming to an end
Talked about how lucky we’d been to have Dad and Grandad in our lives, men who were emotionally capable and without a shred of sexism
We both wondered how sexism is still a thing
Dave arrived
We all drank more tea
Observed how knackering the flu is
We all chatted together, me still lying down, them sitting on the other sofa
All agreed how I must have made myself worse by thinking the antibiotics I was prescribed last Tuesday would help and trying to “push through”
Mum vacuumed
I marvelled at her strength and energy
Went on social media and mostly found posts on Brontes and graveyards
Remembered how the last thing I saw in Haworth last week was a funeral
Turned heating up
Took more pills
Rested with mouth open again
Coughed a really annoying cough again
Dave read Charlie’s book on Pirates while I casually browsed more social media posts
Most were about death or the Brontes but none directly related to both on this occasion
Read news pages
Observed at this time of year news items with violence and fires increase (sun in Aries)
Mum asked if I needed or wanted anything else but she’d taken care of everything
Gave them big hugs when they left
Felt in my heart how kind and giving they are
How there is still a part of me needs to be nurtured
Thought how much easier it would be if they lived closer
Thought about our family circumstances
Messaged more friends and Andrew
Warmed up tea and ate it on sofa with blanket on knees.  Felt eighty.
Hoped I might live till eighty and wondered what I might do with the next 39 years
Wondered what I might do with the rest of 2019
Felt ready for change
Wrote this.