Astrological charts have been able to indicate past lives for me. I can see them. Years ago, I began to meet people and see a past life immediately. Since then it has become an almost daily occurrence as I go shopping, get gas and work. As a school bus driver, it happened so frequently that some teachers began to ask me out of curiosity, if I saw anything.
Children born to parents whose marriage was arranged without love were often difficult. Love is the key ingredient. Love attracts less difficult souls. As a social worker, one of the first questions I would ask a parent with a troubled child was, "Were you in the love with the Dad when you became pregnant?" I never received a yes. It was always a shake of the head and a thoughtful “no”. Getting “no” all the time has convinced me how very important love is when conceiving. Many of these children have come from lives as hoodlums, gangsters, thugs etc. Now their parents have a few years to help steer these souls away from violence. I have also seen autistic children come from past lives of abusing power. Now those same souls are being controlled. I have seen this over and over again.
Examples:
A young twenty something, non-verbal woman, lived in a group home. Her left forearm bore constant teeth marks, a semi-circle of red. When she became angry with anyone or anything, she would bite her own arm. I saw a past life where she had servants and power. She would beat and hit anyone around who did not jump quickly enough to do her bidding. Her own mother stopped visiting her and left the province. Her mother, in this life, was a personal servant.
I once saw rows of bullets criss-crossed on the chest of a ten year old boy. He had been a muscular “G.I. Joe” mercenary in a past life. Life meant nothing to him. He had been paid to kill. Now he was autistic, verbal and his every reaction was controlled and stopped.
I met a young man of twenty-two living in a group home whose past life was spent being a gunslinger. His parents in this life were not thrilled with him. His father had physically abused him. This young man had gunned him down for no reason in his past violent life. His present mother had been the wife of the gunned down man. His father left Alberta and his mother saw him infrequently.
Then there was this four year old bully. The first day on the bus, I sat him with another four year old. Within minutes, I could hear arguing. He had hit his seat mate. I moved him to another seat. Within minutes, again, I heard more arguing. I moved him to a seat with a girl, right at the front. I could hear how aggressive he was. When I questioned him, “Why are you angry?” He smiled and answered, “I didn't like his face” or “I didn't like what he said,” smiling all the while. When his parents went to take him off the bus, he blamed the little girl, “She made me mad.” I told his parents that he had hit the other children. His mother said, “It's the children at the day care.”
“But you work at the day care,” I responded. Then I saw a past life in Egypt where the boy had worked as an enforcer in a club. He learned to fashion his face into a pleasant smile, so as to look non-threatening. Then he could strike quickly and surprisingly. He rose through the ranks as a thug. When he died, he had been a club owner, oily with no respect for women or men. In this life, I eventually had to stop him from coming on the bus, something I never had to do. Even sitting alone, he would find ways to torture other children. He threw things or whipped an unused seat beat at other children, laughing as he did it. He always seemed to laugh when he hurt someone.
Then there was another angry four year old. He had been a small, thick set gangster. He disliked the other children, so I had to seat him alone. One day he was getting off the bus, looked at me and said, “I want to be a bad guy now”.
“Why? You will never have any friends. Bad guys die alone. A good guy is way more fun.” He began to warm up but I heard from the other parents that they did not let their children out of sight when he was around.
Then there was the very polite four year old who screamed his first week on the bus, all the way to school and home. I told him I would always take him home. Then I saw a past life in which he was a statesman, dressed in tails and attending a political function. Somewhere in the Middle East he was kidnapped and killed. He felt the bus was kidnapping him. Once I saw that, I would tell him over and over that he was safe. By the second week and the rest of the year, he was terrific, so polite, and very smart.
Children born to parents whose marriage was arranged without love were often difficult. Love is the key ingredient. Love attracts less difficult souls. As a social worker, one of the first questions I would ask a parent with a troubled child was, "Were you in the love with the Dad when you became pregnant?" I never received a yes. It was always a shake of the head and a thoughtful “no”. Getting “no” all the time has convinced me how very important love is when conceiving. Many of these children have come from lives as hoodlums, gangsters, thugs etc. Now their parents have a few years to help steer these souls away from violence. I have also seen autistic children come from past lives of abusing power. Now those same souls are being controlled. I have seen this over and over again.
Examples:
A young twenty something, non-verbal woman, lived in a group home. Her left forearm bore constant teeth marks, a semi-circle of red. When she became angry with anyone or anything, she would bite her own arm. I saw a past life where she had servants and power. She would beat and hit anyone around who did not jump quickly enough to do her bidding. Her own mother stopped visiting her and left the province. Her mother, in this life, was a personal servant.
I once saw rows of bullets criss-crossed on the chest of a ten year old boy. He had been a muscular “G.I. Joe” mercenary in a past life. Life meant nothing to him. He had been paid to kill. Now he was autistic, verbal and his every reaction was controlled and stopped.
I met a young man of twenty-two living in a group home whose past life was spent being a gunslinger. His parents in this life were not thrilled with him. His father had physically abused him. This young man had gunned him down for no reason in his past violent life. His present mother had been the wife of the gunned down man. His father left Alberta and his mother saw him infrequently.
Then there was this four year old bully. The first day on the bus, I sat him with another four year old. Within minutes, I could hear arguing. He had hit his seat mate. I moved him to another seat. Within minutes, again, I heard more arguing. I moved him to a seat with a girl, right at the front. I could hear how aggressive he was. When I questioned him, “Why are you angry?” He smiled and answered, “I didn't like his face” or “I didn't like what he said,” smiling all the while. When his parents went to take him off the bus, he blamed the little girl, “She made me mad.” I told his parents that he had hit the other children. His mother said, “It's the children at the day care.”
“But you work at the day care,” I responded. Then I saw a past life in Egypt where the boy had worked as an enforcer in a club. He learned to fashion his face into a pleasant smile, so as to look non-threatening. Then he could strike quickly and surprisingly. He rose through the ranks as a thug. When he died, he had been a club owner, oily with no respect for women or men. In this life, I eventually had to stop him from coming on the bus, something I never had to do. Even sitting alone, he would find ways to torture other children. He threw things or whipped an unused seat beat at other children, laughing as he did it. He always seemed to laugh when he hurt someone.
Then there was another angry four year old. He had been a small, thick set gangster. He disliked the other children, so I had to seat him alone. One day he was getting off the bus, looked at me and said, “I want to be a bad guy now”.
“Why? You will never have any friends. Bad guys die alone. A good guy is way more fun.” He began to warm up but I heard from the other parents that they did not let their children out of sight when he was around.
Then there was the very polite four year old who screamed his first week on the bus, all the way to school and home. I told him I would always take him home. Then I saw a past life in which he was a statesman, dressed in tails and attending a political function. Somewhere in the Middle East he was kidnapped and killed. He felt the bus was kidnapping him. Once I saw that, I would tell him over and over that he was safe. By the second week and the rest of the year, he was terrific, so polite, and very smart.
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