I was always close to my younger sister. Whenever we played a game of Cowboys and Indians, I always wanted to be one of the “good guys,” an Indian.
Later, I would often travel with my ex-husband who was a truck driver. One early morning on a run through Arizona, he called for me to look at the gorgeous view. When I turned to look, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of disorientation and dread. It was indeed gorgeous but I couldn’t look at it. I have always loved being in high places and spent much of my childhood in the tops of trees or climbing into the tops of barns. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but in that moment I was afraid of falling to my death.
Several years later I underwent past-life regression. In that session, I remembered being a renegade native warrior trying to drive out the invading white man in Arizona. I had been counseled by my grandmother (whom I recognized as my present day younger sister) to exercise caution but I ignored her. I was trapped on the top of a mesa by white military men and forced to jump off to my death. I knew that my remains were left there as fodder for coyotes and buzzards, and my family never knew what became of me. In the regression, I knew that that same mesa was in view that day with my ex.
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Posted Feb 21, 2015