September- "We both remember how bright it was in our eyes".

I was adopted in 1948, but had really clear memories of my short life with my birth mother. While being born, I remember that I seemed to zoom in and out of my baby body from my birth mother's womb in Natchez, MS. Years later, I recalled this event to her after I found her when I was 30: the home, the bluff in Natchez on the Mississippi River, and the exact room. I remembered the doctor who told her, "The next time you decide to be a bad girl, maybe you'll remember this!" She was in a lot of pain and this was her fourth birth out of wedlock.        There was an old fashioned tin plate lamp hanging directly over my mother's body on the delivery table with a bright light. She verified this to me. We both remembered how bright it was in our eyes. There were long windows from floor to ceiling. The wind outside, directly from the river's bluff, was blowing the windows so hard that the glass panes sounded like they would break. She verified this as well.       I remember an antebellum home of dark old red brick with green ivy. When I went there during my search for my past  the house was white, so I thought I was wrong. Later, she told me it had been red brick with ivy when she lived there, and she had her picture taken with me on the lawn in front of it at three weeks old, while waiting for the station wagon to take me and three other children to the adoption home in Jackson.  Even without ever seeing the photograph, my crystal clear memories are enough to prove the reality of it all to myself, but I am still so grateful that I had someone to share with them. Susan Arnett, Natchez, Mississippi Artist- Deep Fried Goodness, Nova Scotia, Canada   Deep Fried Goodness' Flickr

AUGUST- "... honestly, for a moment it was like looking at an adult."

When my eldest daughter Jennifer was just a toddler around two years of age, we had a most remarkable experience concerning reincarnation. Jennifer at that time could only say a few words that we had taught her -- "cat," "nose," etc.       One day, I had a book about ancient Egypt open on the table, showing the death mask in gold of Tutankhamun, the Boy King. Jennifer crawled up onto a chair and, seeing the picture, put her finger on it and said "King!" This was a word we had never taught her. But the best was yet to come. I had read where very young children sometimes have memories of past lives. So I asked her, "What do you remember about Egypt?" She looked at me and said, "I knows it." Then she said what sounded like "Kim." Next, she said "bees," "honey" and "flowers." These were words we had not yet taught her. Then I asked her, "What was your name in that life?" Jennifer suddenly looked at me with an indignant expression upon her face and, honestly, for a moment it was like looking at an adult. She retorted without any hesitation (as if I should know) a word that sounded like "Tentooke."      The next thing that happened was amazing. As I have always held an interest in Ancient Egypt, I said to her, "Who was your father in that life?" Then, this little two year old girl looked at me again, and said without hesitation, "Captain of the Guard...Keeper of the Grain." It was said perfectly, just as an adult would say it. Then, within seconds, those special moments were gone, and she was back to being "Little Jen" who only knew a few garbled "bubby" words. I discovered much later on that the ancient name for the land of Egypt was "Kem."      Jennifer is now 40 years of age, and I have never told her about this experience of hers as a toddler. This is because every time I have a birthday (without any prompting from us) she always brings me a gift that has something to do with ancient Egypt! Once she gave me a perfect replica of a scarab beetle (which was sacred to the ancient Egyptians) and said to me, "Leave it in your car, Dad. It will protect you." Doug Osbourne, Australia Artist- Amelie Alice, Hawkes Bay, New Zealand    Amelie's Flickr

July- "... and even then, it will be just a tiny event in the scheme of my existence".

In 1976 I was in a motorcycle accident in which my left leg was snapped off at the knee by a tree. Still conscious and waiting for an ambulance, I was able to stop the bleeding for a short time before I had to let it continue because of the pain. This went on until help arrived. I had lost so much blood by the time I got to the hospital that I recall losing consciousness as I was carried out of the ambulance.         I could hear the medics' voices for just a short time, and then I was feeling weightless. No pain, no hot or cold, no body. My essence, my spirit, "I" was slowly drifting towards a faint and distant light. I could see planet earth, small, off in the distance to my right. There seemed to be an invisible wall between me and the life dimension I had just left. I knew with certainty that I could not return that way. Nor did I have any desire to go back.         Questions arose in my mind quickly and were answered just as quick by myself, as if I had some new kind of knowledge. I seemed to know everything. I knew without a doubt that I would see my family and loved ones when they passed. Not years from then, but as soon as I got to where I was headed. Time as known on earth, such as a human's life span, was a mere grain of sand on a large beach. We all, humans, had no need to worry. It was as if earth were just a level we all had to pass through on our way to a peaceful and more beautiful plane of existence. It was serene, all loving, all knowing, like being born to a brand new world, not as an infant, but as a knowledgeable, understanding being.         Then, without a signal, sign or thought, I found myself on a stretcher with a medical crew working on me. Pain, fear and awe all surrounded me at the same time. To this day, I have never felt anything even close to what I felt in that moment. No joy or drug on earth could even compare with the feeling of security and confidence I had then.         Sometimes I feel like I can't wait to go there again, but I know I have to wait until my existence here is finished. I do not fear death for I know partially what waits beyond. The only aspect of death I may fear is how it will come about, and even then, it will be just a tiny event in the scheme of my existence. William Brennan Artist- Benjamin Skanke, Oslo, Norway  Benjamin's Flickr

JUNE- "He remembered having the same exact dream as me...."

As far back as I can remember, I've always been afraid of heights. I remember visiting a lighthouse on Lake Erie. As I reached the top of the lighthouse, I was attacked with a terrifying sensation of falling to my death.       One day when I was about 12 years old, I had a vivid and frightening dream that haunts me to this day. In the dream, Images of the western plains came to me and I heard little boys laughing and horses nickering. It was dark, but I felt the wind on my face, and I could smell the scent of sweet prairie grass.      Through the cover of darkness, I caught a glimpse of an Indian boy about ten or twelve years old, riding a pony. He had paint on his face and was laughing. I couldn't really see him, but I knew that that was because I was watching myself! And so, I laughed back. I knew we were on a mission, one that was dangerous and against the rules, but I followed because the lure was too exciting. We rode out across the prairie, with the wind at our heels and bow and arrows at our backs and we were free, young boys on the verge of proving our manhood. I knew he was my brother; I could sense the special bond. Laughing, I encouraged my mount to outpace him, pulling into the lead, as we headed straight toward our objective.       Beneath the full moon, we could see them. Hundreds of buffalo. I could hear the rush, the pounding of hooves drowning out my voice. The exhilaration unbelievable. The dust rose thick as the buffalo drew in around my mount, trapping me within the herd. Looking back, I saw my brother. He shouted at me, waving his arms, an alarmed expression on his face. I watched him fall back until the darkness covered him. But I continued to laugh. How could I not? I was happy and completely free. It's a funny thing: one moment, hearing the sound of the monstrous rumble of the hooves, and then next, an instant silence as you sail through the air, still happy and free, falling to your death.      Later on in life as an adult, I shared my dream with my brother. I was telling him about the two Indian boys hunting buffalo when he gasped in amazement. He remembered having the same exact dream as me, but in his dream, he watched an Indian boy ride over a cliff. Incidentally, just recently I went through a box of old school pictures and artwork and came across a picture I drew in the third grade. In the picture, there are two Indian boys riding spotted ponies, while shooting arrows at buffalo.  Anonymous Artist- Elkie Koehn, Monroe, WA   Elkie's Flickr

MAY- "... at the same instance we both caught our breath, finally understanding the dream's message."

My lifelong friend Jill died in 2006 after a long battle with breast cancer. My wife and I adopted her daughter after she died. Exactly one year to the day after she died, I had a very vivid dream about her. In the dream, Jill was standing outside under a tree. As I approached her, she said “Take them with you”. She looked very frightened, and she kept saying it over and over again, as if she was pleading with me – “Take them with you! Take them with you!” I didn’t know what she meant, and I asked her to explain, but she wouldn’t say anything else. Just “Take them with you.”

The next morning, Jill’s daughter Katie, who now lives with us, told me that she also had a dream about her mom that night. In her dream, Jill was standing outside her bedroom window. She was saying something to her but she couldn’t hear her through the glass. We all thought it was weird that we both had dreams about Jill that night, exactly one year after her death, but we just figured it was because we were thinking about her that day. But I was still haunted by the words “Take them with you”...what did she mean? Take who (or what) with me? Where? Why?

3 weeks later, I had forgotten all about the dreams. I had to run out to the store for some things, and as I was headed out the door I decided on a whim to take our daughters along for the ride just to give my wife a little peace and quiet, because she wasn’t feeling well. While we were at the store, a huge storm blew through. Then my wife called on the cell phone and said I better come home right away, because a large tree had fallen on our house. When I got home, I discovered that the tree had fallen directly on Katie’s bedroom – exactly where the two young girls had been playing right before we left to go to the store.

My wife and I looked at each other and at the same instance we both gasped, finally understanding the dream's message. 

Anonymous- Ottawa, Canada

Artist- Elana Vaninetti, Milano, Italy   Elana's Flickr

APRIL- "I saw him walking barefoot in the dirt on the road..."

About a decade back I was a young man doing a small job in Allahabad. Since I always go to a temple of Lord Shiva on Mondays I started hunting for a Shiva temple in Allahabad since I was new to the city. I finally found Mankameshwar temple in Allahabad on Saraswati ghat.

As is common practice for Hindus they put off their footwear before going inside the temple, so I took off my one day old shoes and went inside. When I returned someone had stolen them! This was a secluded place and there was no possibility of finding a shoe shop. So I went to the Mahant or the head of the temple. He understood the whole thing and lovingly said to me that there were no spare footwear so he is giving me his own slippers but I must remember to return them as soon as possible as he had just that one pair and until I returned them he would have to walk barefoot.

I do not remember what happened but there was some delay before I returned to him with new slippers. I saw him walking barefoot in the dirt on the road. When he saw me I touched his feet and put slippers on them. They were a size too small for him since he was a very big man. He laughed and said God is punishing him because he allows himself the luxury of wearing shoes when he should be austere and should go barefoot. Now what do you say of this?

Later I learnt that he was a policeman but renounced the world to serve God. I later tried many times to meet him to take his blessings but somehow never managed to meet him again. Perhaps this is how holy men teach us to make sacrifices for our fellow man. I guess if I myself made sacrifices like he did for me he would be happiest.

Akumar- Allahabad, India

Artist- J Rodman, San Francisco, California J's flickr

MARCH- "I was feeling the Earth move beneath me..."

           I was on a trip to Machu Picchu in Peru with a retreat group. During one of our major hikes through the jungle we were traveling towards a sacred location in the ruins called Oola. When we arrived we prepared for a ritual where the ten or twelve of us made a medicine wheel out of our standing positions that faced North, South, East and West. We were all synced in meditation listening to the sounds of the chanting and drumming of the native shaman that led us to this location. Each of us had our eyes closed as we swayed together, trying to keep still in the hot, muggy, insect infested jungles of Peru. All of a sudden I was startled but the strong shift in energy of everyone around me beginning to dance wildly. I could feel and hear their stomping and forceful movements. I wondered if I had entirely missed an instruction from the shaman and the guides. I felt so confused so I peeked out of my eyes so that I could look around me. To an even greater shock, all I saw was the rest of the party standing silently and motionless with all eyes closed.  I looked behind me and there was nothing but empty ruins, and the jungle that enclosed this area that we were in. Nothing could be seen or heard apart from the chanting and drumming in front of me. So I closed my eyes again. Within seconds that powerful burst of energy flowed through me and around me, until I could feel the earth beneath me shaking with what I could only perceive to be the ceremonial dancing of the long deceased indigenous people of Machu Piccu. I began to lose the shock factor and allowed myself to let go and tap further into what I was experiencing. It was so invigorating to feel the presence of the people that used to also perform rituals and ceremonies in that very spot that we were standing. I was feeling the Earth move beneath me, the footsteps and rhythms intertwining with the planet's vibrations as well as the frequencies of those people around me, who dared to travel amazing distances to stand in that spot. When the ceremony was completed we moved on, and later that night by candlelight a young girl in my travel group began to describe a similar experience to mine, only she was able to tap into the auditory, tactile and visuals of the celebrating natives. She was seeing what I was feeling that day at the ruins, and I was so grateful to hear her descriptions of what the natives actually looked like to help me re-experience it all over again.

Anonymous- West Palm Beach, Florida

Artist- Veanne Cao, San Francisco, California    Veanne's Website

FEBRUARY- "Imagine all the people we brush paths with and never know a thing about them."

It was the worst day of my life. One morning while out of town for the weekend, I got a phone call with the news that my 19-year old son had died in a fire while away at college. Still in shock a few hours later, my husband and I boarded a plane to go back home.

I walked shakily down the aisle looking for seats near the front, as I thought my queasy stomach couldn't take riding in the back. The only open seats were with a woman who sat huddled under a blanket by the window. Briefly thinking, "I hope she isn't sick, that's the last thing we need" I sat down beside her, with my husband on the aisle.

The flight seemed to last forever. Finally, the plane started its descent and through my haze of fear, shock and anxiety (sadness would come later) I must have said something to my husband about courage, and needing to be strong or something to that effect. In a moment the woman said to me, "Excuse me, I'm so sorry to ask, but have you just lost someone?" I said, "Yes, my son." Her eyes widened, and she said, "My son died last night too, and I'm just now going home." We fell into each others arms. Our sons were only a year apart in age, and had died within hours of each other. We kept in touch for a long time, and both of us felt our sons had directed us to meet on that awful day.

We easily could have gotten off of that plane never knowing what the other was going through. There were many more instances after my son's death where I felt some kind of divine support and comfort, and this was just the beginning. Imagine all the people we brush paths with and never know a thing about them.


Anonymous
Austin, Texas

JANUARY- "I had just witnessed real love..."

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat my son Erik in a high chair. Suddenly, he squealed with glee and said, 'Hi!' He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray, laughing and giggling endlessly. I looked around and saw a man whose pants were baggy with his toes poking out of his shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.

'Hi there, baby; hi there, I see ya!' the man said to Erik. My husband and I exchanged looks. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was laughing loudly across the room, exchanging smiles with the skid-row bum.

Finally my husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man cradled Erik in his arms as he said in a firm commanding voice, 'You take care of this baby.' Somehow I managed, 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, 'God bless you, ma'am, you've given me a gift.' I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.' I had just witnessed real love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who forgot how to. I was blind, holding a child who was not.

Anonymous,
Dublin, Ireland

Artist,

Kenneth McNeil- Copenhagen, Denmark

Kenneth's Flickr