Akasha: One amazing journey after another.

If you’ve not yet discovered the Akashic Records, or not had a reading, NOW is a good time! I began exploring my own Akashic Records in January of 2010. It took me a good month or so to work up the courage to open them. You have to be willing to face the truth, you see. And that means possibly letting go of old patterns, ideas, beliefs, and, yes, sometimes even love.

If you’re into reading the works of spiritualists, you may be finding a common phrase in many of their works:

“Remember who you are.”


Yeah. I know. Head scratch. Brow rub. Chin tug.

What does THAT mean?

And then there’s the inevitable pregnant pause…

…super-deep inhale…

and the burning question…

“Who AM I?”

Followed by the even more challenging…

“Why am I here?”

And the ever mind-boggling…

“What is my purpose?”

These are all very good questions for your Akashic Records — the keepers of all the details of every life your soul has ever lived and will live. Or, as some folks believe, all the lives your soul is living right now.

Yes. Simultaneously.

Head scratch.

Brow rub.

Chin tug.

Yeah, I know. Still trying to get my head around that one, myself. I mean, if I’m living several lives at this very moment, then why am I stuck here, in the loneliest, most painful and mundane one, for what seems like eons?

That is also a very good question for your Akashic Records. But, brace yourself! The answer may be loaded with way more WTFs than you ever imagined!

Which always brings you back around to this simple reminder: Remember who you are.

And the answer to that is simple. You are a spiritual light being having a human experience. Or several, even, if you can believe that. Which I do believe probably comes from the theory that there is no past, and there is no future; there is only right now.

And this is where I say, “But right now kinda sucks…”

So I open my Akashic Records and I find out more about who I am. Where I came from. Why I’m here. Where I’m going. And what it all means.

Sounds like an escape, doesn’t it?

In some ways, it is. But, when I look at my alternatives — television, Internet, housework — it is usually the most valuable (not to mention affordable) escape available. And it has changed my life so much.

The information I’ve received from my records has helped make sense out of those things that once made no sense at all. It has given me a broader perspective on anything and everything to which I am connected. And it has helped me unravel the mysteries involving those all-too-real dreams that make me go, “Whuuuut tha…?”

My Akashic Records have also helped me understand that everything and everyone on this planet are somehow connected. Whether we like it or not, that IS the truth.

In the coming months, I plan to begin sharing some of my story about my Akashic Records and how they have helped me remember who I am, why I’m here, where I’m going, and what it all means.


Good question. My first thought about this was, “Who would really even be interested?”

But, now that more and more spiritualists are reminding us, “Remember who you are,” it feels like a good time to share how you can begin to tap into your own personal truth by showing you how I did it. Not just through my own readings, but through readings I have done for my close friends, as well. We’ve learned that we are a very close-knit soul group, connected by “other lives,” and the information we have learned has cinched our bond even tighter.

I look forward to sharing with you our adventures through the Akashic Records. It certainly has been one amazing journey after another.

This is where it gets weird

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This blog was written in the spring of 2008, before I accessed my Akashic Records and learned I have actually lived a total of 39 past lives.

WARNING: This blog is about reincarnation. If you are opposed to the idea of reincarnation, STOP READING.

Even if you don’t believe in reincarnation, you’ve probably caught yourself saying something along the lines of “not in this life,” or “in my next life, I want to come back as…” or “I must have been (enter adjective here) in a past life.” The question is, do we actually believe we’ve lived other lives or that our souls will regenerate to a new life after we die when we catch ourselves saying things like that?

Well, I can only speak for myself, and I KNOW I’ve lived other lives.

When I was a wee lil unchurched towhead, reincarnation was a totally natural inclination to me. OF COURSE I’d lived past lives! I WAS Huck Finn, yo!! Or maybe I had been Tom Sawyer. Or maybe…just maybe…I was Samuel Clemens, and THAT is how I knew those boys so well. Hey, stranger stuff has happened. How does a seven-year old who has never read either story know who Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer are, anyway?

Aw, maybe my mom had read those stories to me. I honestly don’t remember everything about those days. I just remember my mom was THE BEST story reader in the WORLD. Except those Laura Ingalls stories sure did put me to sleep – FAST!!

I DO remember believing in reincarnation for whatever reason, though.

Since high school I have had this thought that I must have been a real stuck-up wench in one of my past lives because I’ve always had this snooty-girl mentality that even I cannot stand at times. I mean, she’s the kind of bitch I want to smack and say, “BURP if your tummy hurts, Buffy!” JEEZE!! “Loosen the corset, Camille!” Ya know?

Anyway, yeah, crazy, I know. Especially since I grew up in middle-class suburbia and I was the first in my family to earn a college degree besides my dad who never did anything with his teaching degree because he slammed a high school student against a wall as a substitute teacher; I do believe he lost his teaching certificate  for that. Classy, huh? So, yeah, I never really had any reason to be proud or feel privileged.

When I ran away (er WENT) to college in Boston, there was a moment in my college dormitory building that I realized I HAD to have lived at least ONE other life. It was when I went exploring in this old building known as “Charlesgate.” It had been a hotel, a hospital, and it was even rumored at one time to have been a brothel. It was haunted unlike anything I’d ever experienced. EVERYone seemed to have a story of some strange happening or another in that place. Eight floors of eeriness. I thought I’d never get out. Before I learned how haunted the place was, however, I went roaming around, checking things out – admiring architecture and original woodwork. It was when my eyes wandered across an ornate tile decoration that I realized something that freaked me out: I’d BEEN here before. But…I’d NEVER been there before. Whoa. Creepiness. It was like, for a very brief moment, I had stepped into another dimension – one from the past. One I was not so sure I wanted to revisit.

Fast forward 19 years to the present. A few months ago I woke from this dream that I knew should really be making me feel extremely uncomfortable, but it didn’t. In fact, it had the opposite affect on me. It felt extremely familiar and…good…which is odd considering the dream was about an older man – easily in his late 30s to early 40s – and a very young girl who looked to me to be somewhere between 12-15 years old. I understood from the dream that the man was married with two children. I could tell by the clothing style that it was the early 1940s and by the building interiors that it took place in a city very much like Boston. It was still very unclear to me who this young girl was, however. Until…well…the erotic stuff started. I was not in this dream at all, so it made no sense why I was dreaming this…and feeling these feelings. It occurred to me when I woke with these extremely warm, dreamy, VERY familiar feelings that this was no ordinary dream. Nope. This was a past-life regression dream. That fact didn’t really dawn on me until about four hours after I woke up and I couldn’t seem to get the dream out of my mind. It wasn’t until that evening that I bravely sat down and allowed myself to get into a deep discussion with my spirit guide Joe about my past lives. I still have not flushed out all the details of these past lives – I’ve only scratched the surface on most because there is only so much I feel I can handle at once, you know?

I don’t know how many total past lives I’ve lived. I know there are at least five, but three are very distinctive. Most of you who regularly read my blogs know that I feel I have a soulmate – well, not just A soulmate, but THE soulmate – the “forever love of a lifetime” kind of soulmate. I recognized the deep soul connection by the dramatic flash in her eyes when we first met. I learned that I have shared three past lives with this fellow soulmate, the most recent being the regression dream from the 1940s. She was a famous older male athlete (married with two children) having an affair with a young girl – MOI. Yeah. Forbidden love.

The two other lives were also forbidden love situations. In the first of our three past lives we’ve shared, she was a Native American man and I was the daughter of a rich white man (that’s probably where the snooty girl comes from). Our affair produced a half-breed baby boy. One month later, daddy dearest shot and killed my Cherokee lover. In our second life together, I again was the daughter of a rich white man, and we lived in South Africa. She was a hot young African stud with a chiseled chest and a handsome face. Our intensely taboo affair led to another death at the hands of my tyrant father. Again, a child had been conceived. Oh, and, if you’re wondering, no, the famous older male athlete did not die at the hands of my furious father; the athlete committed suicide after we were caught and exposed or exposed and caught – not sure exactly how that happened. Yes, offspring was also produced in that life as well. Anyone see a pattern here?

I was recounting all this newly discovered information with my niece (who is only five years younger than me) the other day, which is a blessing in itself – to be able to discuss something of this nature with a relative and she doesn’t bat an eye – and I jokingly said: “I’m not sure why we’re lesbians this time around; maybe it’s so she can’t get me pregnant?”

Without missing a beat my niece said, “Yeah, and luckily your dad is dead this time around, so he CAN’T KILL HER.”

Now, isn’t that the most precious, but yet the WEIRDEST thing a niece could ever say to her aunt?