Day 4 – A Journey of My Spiritual Experiences (Listen while you read)
Jean, my mother, was suppressed terribly by the man she married, my father. She hated being married to this man; however, she made the best of it.
I can’t say that I ever really understood Jean. She was incredibly unhappy and yet she remained in the situation that brought her such grief. Life was certainly very different for her generation. There was really nowhere for women in her position to go. They just ‘put up’ with whatever conditions prevailed.
I knew the ugly side to Jean. She gave me her ugly side. I saw her mothering side when she comforted one of my older sisters. She had a great relationship with her. I was privy to her comforting words when my sister began menstruating. I stood outside our bedroom door and listened as Jean described how babies were born. I was so touched by this exchange. I could feel the fondness between them. When my time came Jean said, “There are towels in the linen press”. What a difference.
I can remember coming home from school with a packet of cigarettes in my school-bag. Some time before, the school had sent a letter home to my parents stating that I had been smoking in the toilets with a number of girls. This was untrue. My father was to go to the school to talk to the Principal. I was called out of my 9th grade class to go down to the Principal’s office. As I approached I heard my father’s raised voice. He was shouting profanities as loudly as he could. They came out of the office; both of them red faced. My father looked at me, and without a word pushed me forward before him. We didn’t speak; this was my father’s way; one didn’t speak about anything.
For the next year the Principal would ridicule me in public whenever the opportunity arose. I understood why and, because I didn’t have any friends to back me up, I would obediently do as he said; picking up all of the rubbish from the play areas, or whatever else he could do to try to humiliate me, as he had been humiliated by my father. Naturally, I never uttered a word of this to Charles; this would have been quite a mistake to do so.
Some time later I did start to smoke. I wasn’t inhaling; it was just a ruse. However, my mother had smelt the smoke on me and asked for a cigarette. I will never forget the look on her face. She hadn’t ever looked at me the way that she looked at my older sister; there was always a slight smile on her face in those moments. The look she gave me was always without warmth, without love. I opened my bag and offered her the packet. She took one for herself and one for me. We lit them and she remained icy cold. She did not take her eyes off me as I puffed upon the cigarette; very mindful that she was checking to see if I was inhaling. We finished the cigarettes; her with that same cold stare. We never spoke about it again. This is a recurring theme; my parents didn’t ‘speak’ of things. It was as if they hadn’t happened.
Uncle Arthur spent some time with us; I say us, meaning my daughter and me. She (my daughter) had been a part of this adventure from the start. It wasn’t unusual for her to speak with Uncle Arthur. They conversed a little; however, it wasn’t until Sister Henrietta came along that she really entered into another dimension of conversation. Sister Henrietta told us that she was a past life experience of mine. In other words; I had been Sister Henrietta in some past occasion.
My daughter took to Sister like a bee to honey. I remember being somewhat jealous of this. Up until this time, I was her companion, her confidant, her friend. Now, Sister was entering this domain of mine and it hurt when she was able to offer her advice; advice that I couldn’t.
To explain: I would speak the words that spirit spoke (some call it channelling). So, here was Sister impinging upon my territory as a mum. However, I soon learned that there were quite a number of areas where this was a boon. Indeed, there were many things, unbeknown to me, that were happening in this young girl’s life; I was not privy to. Therefore, sometimes the things that they would converse about were totally unknown by me. The advice, and sometimes the ‘shorthand’ that they would use whilst conversing, allowed me to appreciate that my daughter’s thoughts weren’t always voiced. However, Sister knew what she was thinking, and what was happening within her life. Having a mentor like this was a great benefit for a young girl.
Sister remained with us for approximately 1 year. She then told us that another would be coming to replace her. I was lost for a while over this. I’d grown very fond of Sister and had, in time, overcome the jealousy. She had become an integral personality within our lives, and I knew I would surely miss her.
Carolyn Page – ABC of Spirit Talk