a full moon brings lost souls from the crimean war to light

28 08 2010
 
 
 
 
 

"wot's she up too?'

Monday 23rd August

2010 finds us in a brilliant Sussex B & B with just a little hope of a peaceful few days away from spirit rescue… As I write in my diary I hear a little tap-tapping on the window sill and look up to see a cheeky little blue tit looking straight at me!  Just as I sketch him quickly onto my page (he looks a little scary) another joins him as if to say ‘don’t be nosey.  What are you looking at anyway?’

My dear husband ventured out into the dark, tree lined tunnels of roads to find us some supper, insisting I ‘stay put as you are exhausted’ and having found a garage forecourt to buy ham rolls, crisps and flapjacks he made his way carefully back along the spooky lanes, peering into the darkness for the right turn off.  As he slowed at the tiny junction he saw a deer standing in that space, just looking at him!  Beautifully proportioned, it seemed to smile at him (“yes, sort of!”) as if to say ‘this way, deer!’

Later settling into blissful sleep, I was suddenly awoken by a bright light in my eyes!  It was a full moon, just having reached the brow of the rooftop and lining up perfectly with the one inch crack at the side of the drawn curtains!  “Wake up JB!” it seemed to say.  I glanced at the clock and groaned.  It was 4.30 am, so I smiled knowingly, flung the duvet back and trudged over to admire its beauty in full, climbing back into bed with a smile on my face.  I was bathed in angelic moonlight, my heart racing with an injection of energy that seemed to emanate from the moon herself….

I glugged down copious amounts of water (always necessary when handling large amounts of energy) and took a deep relaxing breath, at the same time feeling for my trusty dowser and allowing it to leap into the air and settle into a naturally strong, whirling dynamo rhythmn.  Michael woke up and offered to lend me a prop, as it was going to be a long mission.  As he lay with arm bent, holding my elbow, the dowser spun on and on and on as spirit after spirit rescue was instigated.  Too tired to interact with my rescue team (angels and spirit guides of individuals) I just caught snippets of directions such as “inland” and “go south”.

This session was particularly trying and I had to keep transferring the dowser, at a suitable split second pause between individuals passing, to my right hand (not such a good technique, however, and almost knocking my poor husband senseless like a sling-shot out of control) and back again to my left.  As the clock approached quarter to 5 the queue had shortened to only a few, and they now took their leisurely time!  At last, mission accomplished, it had to be 4.44 am when all 610 spirits were safely deposited back, of course! (The angelic energy vibration)

However, it is not just a case of going back to sleep after such a project – and this is where Michael comes in with his insights (and is the gentleman who leaps out of bed to find pen and paper so we don’t forget come ‘morning’!)  Visuals and clues return from the other side, so that I know whose souls I have just helped to save  – Those gathered together to be herded gently into a pen of safety and taken home to the warmth, happiness and pure joy of re-uniting with loved ones, where they will undergo a period of rest, recuperation and then analysis of their earthly adventures.  Thoughts drifted through as follows, which Michael scribbed down for me:

Wassailling (? Someone thinks this is some sort of game involving soaking a rag in wine and passing it along); the song ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’; 3 French Hens; a Flemish market; (go south) a beer festival; long horn cattle; a very cross ‘baron’; someone flicking a switch (fascination with electricity, especially if that soul was born centuries ago); I see pigs, then more pigs, and a man wearing a smock and gaiters; a roundhouse; a Sussex clock maker peering through little glasses; ‘rural pursuits’; a hay barn; wenches; taverns – then I see a very clear picture of men’s feet in battered boots, the soles hanging off; crowded/huddled together, wearing hats like upturned flower pots with little peaks…”  

“Can I speak?” asks Michael…”I’m reading Heroes of the Crimea (by Michael Barthorp) about the Crimea War and how the British suffered terribly from poor clothing and equipment (fighting the Russians) and particularly their boots, which fell apart…They also wore what is called a SHAKO – which is like an inverted flower pot!  They would probably have been crowded together to protect themselves from the cold!  With no previous knowledge of what book Michael had had his nose stuck in all afternoon, while I dozed, it is incredible to know that souls in need of rescue came through the fact that he read those words – energy attracting energy! 

Perhaps that little blue-tit knew before we did? Having written all this information into my diary I snapped it shut and found myself saying ‘tally-ho’!’ Come morning, we ventured to the dining room for a traditional English fry up – and there on the wall was a painting of a Hunting scene (‘tally ho’ being the cry of the riders – Hunting being our surname), another containing country folk of all description and longhorn cattle, another showing a priest collecting his pig as part of the tithes from tenant farmers…then there was the lovely Sussex grandfather clock…(clock-maker peering through little glasses)…

Next morning, in my next Blog…..visitations of a more mysterious, earthly kind….. adventures with nature spirits in the misty, swirling woodlands…..oooooo!


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One response

9 09 2010
sandra

Brilliant, i felt like i was there with you x

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