It was on a cold October night that I heard my William would probably never come home again. He left me to go to another part of Scotland, hoping to find a job at family living there. He never arrived, the letter in my hand told me this in the curly majestic handwriting of the great uncle of my husband. We were married for more than 12 years. My two children Maira and William Jr. did not yet know. I had to tell them the next day and I had to get a job, since the savings were gone and there was nothing to eat at the house. No heat, no food, no father….I felt strong and determined as I put the letter in the upper draw of the cabinet. Three weeks later, as I was working already at the Old Inn, it became very clear that the children, 9 and 12 year, were not able to stay at the house on their own. There were men seen who operated as a group, men who took children off the streets or out of their home, to let them work for them. It was very obvious that when that happened, I would never see them again. So I made a decision and brought the children to the nearest monastery, where they helped and got their education. Once every 6 weeks I could visit them, but there were weeks that I was not able to go, because of the lack of money. It was hard, extremely hard to see that my children began to have a life without me. They even were mad at me for a certain time and refused to talk to me as I visited them. That changed happily, as they grew older they understood I had no choice and worked very hard at the Old Inn to be able to pay for their stay and education at the monastery. The Father of the monastery was a very friendly and understanding, caring and good person who tried to help me. He wrote letters about the improvement in their education and told me how intelligent the children were.
The innkeeper of the Old Inn, was a silent man with red hair, red beard and a splitted under lip most of the time, his eyes were almost always squinted and his behaviour was suspicious towards other visitors and he was rude to me. I think I worked there about 6 days as he tried to rape me. I resisted, managed to push him off me, he was very drunk at that time, and ran up the small stairs to my tiny room at the right. I remember the green coloured doorjam, the very small steps of the stairs. I remember the square room of the inn, sand on the floor, the dark wooden tables and chairs. The fireplace in the kitchen that was directly up the 4 steps that lead to the big wooden butcherblock behind the railing of dark wood. A large pot hang above the fire. I could draw this with my eyes closed, it’s like it was yesterday I stood there. We had regular customers, like the monk that sat down at the table in the left corner. He was writing there almost each day, for three hours or more. Never drank anything else but milk or water. Then there was MacBrennan, an old teacher who’s wife died 8 years before. He came in, drank red beer out off stine red mugs. By the time he went home, he could not walk straight anymore, day after day. As Macmermott said, or Mac as we called him, the man paid the rent of the inn by his daily visits. It took Mac about 6 weeks before he got me before I could escape to my room. From that day on he believed he owned me, meaning that he wanted me to sleep with him. New visitors assumed he was married to me and that the Old Inn belonged to us both. Strange as it may seem, Mac and I developed a sort of relationship during the next years. To me this rude, hard burping and introvert man, started to show his real self. 8 Years later he even told me that he saw me as more than his employee…I worked hard, sung every now and then. Hated it when men, drunk and horny, slammed me on my but or tried to get me on their lap. But Mac did not tolerate it and began to take more care of me. I missed my children deeply. Maira studied and married a doctor, who before they got married,visited the monastery each year for a couple of months. She helped women in labour and they got 4 children, of whom one died after a few days. William started to travel and wanted to find a cure for several deseases. He finally settled in the south of Scotland and brew his own medicines out of plants. He never got married, though there were some rumours that he was seeing a girl. He lived with his dog Sheperd and died at the age of 49. Maira lived in a happy marriage, helped many people and died at the age of 63.
Mac and I visited them 4 times in 9 years. The bond between the children and me was good, even intens. They respected me and loved me being their mom. I died at the age of 52, after a high fever and infection. Mac sat at my side and held me, nursed me, gave me drops of water. The Old Inn was closed during the weeks I was in bed. My children came the day before my passing away. I remember them standing in the smal entrance, pale faces, big blue eyes. They were looking at Mac, who held my hand, I remember his eyes watering, the tears that dropped over the edge and fel down on my hand. I never saw him cry before, not one time. Maira and William came to sit next to me and Maira held my other hand and caressed my face in a gentle and loving way. William wiped my forehead with a cloth and told me that he knew what I had done for them and how grateful he felt towards me. I can remember how I absorbed their love, their presence, their deep care for me. I remember my lips formed the words I love you…
tried to hold the hand of Mac in mine, looked at them, looked into their eyes, one after the other and passed away. Mac was devastingly greeved. He and my two children burried me at the hill behind the Old Inn, where a little cemetary was. I was burried near the old oak. Mac visited my grave every day. He never got interested in another woman ever again. At my grave he finally told me that he loved me…
In my current life I met the monk, I remember him as the silent and skin person he was in that life. I married him at the age of 17, divorced him at 21.
In my current life I met Mac again, who I thought of to be the love of my life. I told him of my memory and he felt it as if this was his truth as well. The strange thing in this is too that he always felt very connected to Scotland and always read English books and thought in English.
In my current life I have had a time without two of my children, our bond is deep and became even better afterwards. One of them told me the same as William Jr. told me at the midday I passed away that he knew what I had done for him, for them and that he admired my courage and true love.
In my current life one of my children told me to be mad at me and did not want to have any contact with me because in the eyes of this child I deserted him. Only later the understanding WHY this happened was showed.
In my current life I used to sing, got slammed on my but and decided not to sing in a bar anymore.
In my current life I helped people who felt miserable as I did in the Old Inn.
In my current life I always felt an urge to go to Scotland and i absolutely adore the language and music.
In my current life I even met the Father of the monastery at a camping we stayed. He looked at me as I looked at him and said: ‘ Do I know you?’ I was completely stunned looking at him. His face was the face of the Father, including the little scar under his nose. I asked him how he got it. He told me that during one time he was hiking and fishing, he wanted to cast the hook, but it hooked the skin of his upper lip and tear it out. It was extraordinary because the Father had EXACTLY the same scar under his nose.
In my current life I have had relationships with men who drank a lot, as in the life with Mac in Scotland.
In my current life I was alone with my children as well, my children did not see their father after a certain young age.
Writing the past life down, I feel connected and experience all the feelings again. I am convinced that EVERYTHING is stored in our soul. All the information, all we ever felt, all we ever lived through. For some of us the information pops up at unexpected events. A place, a smell, a color, an accent etc. can bring up a certain memory of a past life. Some of us recognize it as a past memory. Some of us don’t. Some of us take it seriously, other persons laugh about it.
To me past lives are real. I remember them very precisely and have met several persons again in this life. The drinking in relationships was something I have worked through. I do NOT run away from it anymore. And the most beautiful thing that could happen happened. Brian used to have a drinking problem too. He could not stop the drinking, where he NOW knows when to stop and has socialized the drinking. By bringing the Forbidden Cookie ( drinking and hiding it) into the open, he can CHOOSE to drink or not and can DECIDE how much glasses he wants. And he can easily stop at 4 glasses of white wine or less. This is a learning process for both Brian AND me. By going through the proces, we have experienced that there is no BIGGIE in this anymore. Therefore it is not something that will repeat itself because the lesson that was in this was taken by both of us.
Certain things of past lives can be happening again in the current life we live in. To teach us, so we can learn from it. Everything that wants to be shown or wants to be learned, will repeat itself. Just as long as it takes to really take the WHOLE lesson/ insight out of it.
Sometimes you will recognize a person because of the looks that can be similar. Sometimes the looks are totally different but there is a sense of feeling that makes it clear on another, deeper level that there is a connection between two souls.
I recognized Brian as Antonio, my husband from Tuscany in Italy. In that life he looked totally different, still I IMMEDIATELY KNEW that Brian was connected to me in a very deep way. That he was the same guy I saw in my dream when I was 9. And I feel very grateful because of that, as Brian does too. By following that feeling an old promise was fulfilled….