A MEMOIR OF SOULS RECONNECTING
THROUGH MANY LIFETIMES
Copyright © 2013 Kathy Gibbons
ISBN 13: 9781494225980
Love and thanks to Ann and all my fellow
This is not a straightforward story of past lives remembered.
It is a story that began when I was born, with the memories of my
immediate past life imprinted in my brain.
At the age of 36, the dam burst and they came flooding back. The full
story of that tragic past life emerged into my consciousness over a period of
months. Battling with obstacles in my work and personal life, I embarked on a
series of sessions with a regression therapist. These past- life regression
sessions not only revealed the full story of my childhood memories, but also
explained and dissipated the blockages in my present life. In understanding the
story of Maria, as I came to know her, my immediate past life transformed my
present and nudged me towards a new life and a rendez-vous with time that shook
me to the core.
I didn't realize it when I left Ireland to make a new life in Paris but
I was embarking
on an experience that would transport me to the worst moments of the French
Revolution. It may sound incredible but I found myself living in Paris
simultaneously in 1996 and 1794.
If you are French
you will know who Maximilien Robespierre was. If you are not, you will be, as I
was, aware of his name with a vague idea that he had something to do with the
French Revolution. You will meet a man of vision who has been grossly wronged by history, who was France's scapegoat for the bloodshed of its Revolution. You will meet a man who carried
secrets to his death on the guillotine, one of which was a love affair hidden
from history, the other a mystery heretofore unravelled.
The third piece
in the jigsaw of my past-life puzzle which I will be sharing with you in this
book, is a simple fun-loving Irish monk, Marcus. With two very different
past-life memory experiences behind me, I was not anticipating a third. My
awareness of Marcus happened when a close friend and I both felt an inexplicable
uneasiness about a forthcoming trip.
unfolded in a different way to the two previous ones, because my friend, Joni
was with me in mind and spirit through the whole thing. Some of the intuitions
and information came from her and some from myself. The story of the two monks
emerged over a period of four years, which started with the trip we made to
Cathar country near Carcassonne in 2000. This experience felt less lonely as I
had the company of Joni throughout. We were two heads unravelling the mystery,
instead of just one. There were a lot of coincidences in both our lives that
related to the two monks during these years but most of the ‘virtual’ events
happened when we were together, either Joni here in France or me in Ireland.
Marcus had one important thing in common with Maria and Max; he died in brutal
and violent circumstances.
My acceptance of
reincarnation makes it easy for me to believe these stories as my own past
lives and my later experience as a past life regression therapist has made me
realise that I am not alone, all of us have these amazing stories inside us,
you included. Like me, you are
open-minded and involved in your own spiritual truth, searching for what has
meaning for you in this lifetime.
you read, I hope you will recognize in some of the things I describe, in the
coincidences, the feelings and hunches, the unexplained recognition of places
and people, similar experiences in your own life. Perhaps it's not important to know what it is but I can tell you that this story is
told with sincerity and honesty. The
events in my life surrounding these past life stories have made me aware of the
proximity of the spiritual world, and becoming attuned to this world has helped
me to make sense of my life here in the present, and given me clearer vision
has stayed with me all through my life is an absolute knowing that this is one
of many past and probable future lives. My
life changed beyond recognition after my first past-life regressions. What came as an unexpected bonus in the years that followed was my ability to recognise the usual suspects; family, friends,
lovers, enemies, all turning up in life after life, through centuries of
time. The more this happens to me, the
more I realize that this life is the most important because it is a powerful
tool to rid myself of past pain and guilt, in the knowledge that as I move in
time, my load becomes lighter.
The people who
have connected with me in this my present life, are the same souls who were
connected to me less than a hundred years ago; two hundred years ago and one
thousand years ago. Come with me into this amazing story and discover how love
never dies, how it travels through time, as does pain and regret, anger and
passion. Discover how history conceals and misunderstands. Discover the soul’s
unrelenting search for the ultimate healing goal of forgiveness.
I was three years old when I started to tell my mother
stories that always began with ‘When I was a big woman........’
She found these
stories fascinating and amusing because they contained unusual words and
expressions for a three-and-a-half year old. Some years ago, I questioned her
about the first years of my life and she told me that people used to remark on
what an unusual child I was.
"People always thought you had a very unusual vocabulary for your age," she told me. My own recollection of telling these stories
is of relating a serious and clear memory of what had happened to me when I was
a big woman, I related details of what my life had been like, the number of
children I had, events that occurred in this previous existence. My childlike
awareness knew these stories amused and entertained the adults in my life but
it was natural for me to recount stories that I just knew were true.
My first childhood memory is of being discovered sitting on
the stairs at around three years old after being put to bed. I was discovered
by my aunt who lived with us at the time. She carried me into the sitting room
where I remember my parents sitting around a roaring fire. The atmosphere in
the room was cheerful and happy and my mother said I could stay up just long
enough to tell them one of my ‘big woman’ stories, then I would have to go back
up to bed. I remember vividly how earnest I was in relating the detail of my
life as a big woman, the children I cared for, the descriptions of my home and
clothes along with details of walks with prams. Most of my ‘big woman’ stories
were of simple events and most of them focused on my ‘children’. These memories would come to me in special moments and then
slip away as dolls and toy prams substituted the real ones of my memory. Smoky, my cat was the only listener who I
felt took me seriously.
These days, children with
past-life memories are more likely to get a hearing as there are many respected
researchers documenting their stories. But when I was telling my ‘big woman’
stories, it was the late Fifties in Ireland and there was no one around me who
believed in reincarnation let alone believed that I might be telling a true
The task of growing up and learning how to be a normal
schoolgirl obliterated all these memories. From the beginning of my formal
education I was not an ideal student, not even in the infants’ school. I
remember my teacher in first class, Sister Camillus. One afternoon, she was
relating a story from the Bible and talking about the life of Christ to her
class of attentive young listeners, when suddenly I heard somebody shout.
I looked around to see who had said this and found the entire class looking at me as well as the teacher's amused grin. It was me who had asked the question almost involuntarily.
What Sister Caimillus didn't realise was that I really wanted an answer but one was not
forthcoming. The only consequence of my curiosity was humiliation for asking
such a question and in doing so my young enquiring mind was stinted. But as
soon as I left the educational system and the religious indoctrination that went
with it, I slowly recovered my ability to remember and so have always quietly
accepted the reality of past lives. The threat of burning in the eternal fires
of Hell never frightened me as a child because I never believed it to be true
and the idea of floating around up in the clouds with an old bearded white
haired man, surrounded by singing angels seemed boring to me, definitely not a
Heaven I would want to be in for eternity.
But before coming to those conclusions, I went along with my
Catholic upbringing and education. Part of the Catholic doctrine allows for the
priest to grant absolution on God’s behalf for sins committed through the
process of confession. I remember my last confession very clearly, I was about
ten years old. For months I had been burdened with my big sin, I had not fasted
the full three hours before going to Holy Communion at Sunday Mass. Finally, I
plucked up the courage to confess this terrible sin and went to the church one
evening where the priest listened attentively. Just at the point where I
expected absolution he jumped out of the confession box and opened the door of
the adjoining alcove where I was standing (I was not tall enough to kneel). He
threw his arms up in the air and shouted,
out of this Church, get out child. You have no faith, you have no faith”.
Several women waiting to have their confessions heard witnessed all
this, I imagine, with astonishment.
I decided he was wrong. This was the moment when the Catholic Church
and I parted company. I never spoke about this afterwards, not even to my
parents,and I resolved to work things out for myself in the future. The door
to a rich spiritual exploration had opened. Given that these were some of my experiences with the catholic church is it any wonder that I found the idea reincarnation a reasonable alternative. Reincarnation is not a profound belief for me, it is a
simple natural fact. We all end each day by closing our eyes to sleep sure in
the knowledge that we will open them to wake in the morning. In
exactly this way, I know this life will end and I will begin another life by
being born again. Everything continues, for every action there is a reaction and
actions we take in one life cause a reaction in others that follow.
quote my father as he lay ill in hospital the day before he died, he said to my
sisters, “I suppose its back to the beginning now, I’ll have to go back to
My father was a Catholic
all his life, how interesting that in his last hours he was discovering what so
many of us already know; that we have been here before and will be here again.
The past lives that I have remembered easily have all been relevant to
particular circumstances and particular people in this my current life. I have
looked to past life experiences, never just out of curiosity, but to help me
solve problems in the here and now. The power of the past is the effect it has
on us here in the present. These effects can be positive and negative, we
integrate the positive so it helps us to move forward and we clear and release
the negative to be happier in the present.
Now is the creative moment.
Looking back on the early years of my life, it seems to me that they
were as mundane and spectacular as the average life but as you probably know,
the average life is an illusion, we each have a unique existence, a unique path
in life. Each one of us alive on the planet is fulfilling our own special task,
individual and different. I do not consider myself to be religious but my
spirituality is an integral part of my life.
ve had past lives, I am open to and have a vast
spiritual domain to wonder about. My understanding of how reincarnation works
is not attached to any eastern dogma like Buddhism or Hinduism. I accept that
my consciousness continues after my body is dead. But consciousness sounds like
some remote idea of myself; I believe I will move out of my body after
it dies! That is to say ‘me’, Kathy will continue to live on in a non physical
But no one can know for sure what happens after the body dies; even
those who believe that every particle of us dies when the body dies cannot be
‘We are here on earth to fart about,’ said the American writer Kurt
Vonnegut, ‘and don’t let anyone tell you different.’
Well I don't believe I'm here to fart about, what's the point in that? I believe
that my life here has a purpose that is connected to my soul or Higher Self and
that my Higher Self is part of Divine energy that exists in a dimension beyond
our physical one here. Divine energy to
me is a Super Intelligence at the source of all creation. Call this energy the
Designer of the Universe or Multiverse; whatever you want to call it, I
perceive it to be benevolent and loving.
At the moment of death, I leave
my physical body and after a period of adjustment I am then aware of a great
light which is there to help and direct me to the next stage of my transition.
As I go towards the light I become aware of my Spirit Guides, those in spirit
who have assisted and guided me during my physical life. I become aware of
loved ones already passed over, there to reconnect and help me in my transition
to the non-physical world. My ultimate
destination is reunion with my Higher Self and all its other incarnations.
But on occasions, due to free will, or possibly a trauma or difficult
death circumstances, spirits recently passed over don’t reconnect and
reintegrate with soul energy. There can be many reasons why after death, a
spirit does not return to the Higher Self. Reasons differ as to why some of us
refuse the offer of the light; some do not believe they are dead; some who have
had a rigid belief in Heaven and Hell during the lifetime are afraid they have
not lived good lives and will be sent straight to hell; some just prefer to
hang around on Earth because they feel they died too early or have unfinished
business with people still embodied.
In my case, I imagine Maria, my first past life, so traumatised that on
crossing over, she made her way to a healing place; as if she had checked
herself into a ‘cosmic hospital’ but was not recovering enough to check herself
out and move to her light. I imagine Max so riddled with self guilt that he
placed himself in a self imposed ‘cosmic prison’, condemned there for eternity.
And finally Marcus, who was so traumatised by his violent death that he
remained earthbound, trapped in space and time in a dark cellar in the south of
France, manifesting as a ghost to modern day passers by.
My belief is that when I was born in this lifetime, I carried in me the
connection to those lost personalities. Part of my life plan is to enact
whatever experience is needed to rescue them and send them back.
Some might say that believing in past and future lives is a great
opportunity to sit back and say,
"Well, if I don't do well in this life, I can always come back and try again".
in my view it doesn’t work like that; when the time comes to head back to the
Higher Self, every
lost opportunity for growth in an earth life is a waste that weighs heavy on
the spirit. In
spirit as on earth, we have to take responsibility for our lives and actions
and choices. I don’t believe any God will judge me when I pass on. I am
the judge and jury that will assess my life’s successes and failures. With
the help of my Higher Self and my Spirit Guides who have supported me from the
Spirit Plane during my lifetime, I will celebrate my successes and analyse my
failures. And from here, the next incarnation of my soul will be prepared and
an episode of Doctor Who a while
back where they showed all the Doctor Who's who had ever
played the part could meet up and exchange ideas.
very taken with this episode because it threw up the image in my mind’s eye of
all my soul reincarnations sitting around a table having a chat about experiences while on Earth. These images may not seem very spiritual but to me the Spirit Plane and earth Plane interweave
and interact. The earth Plane is a unique learning platform for the Higher Self
and blockages created here, can only be cleared here. So the more we unblock in a lifetime, the
more the need to reincarnate is reduced.
One of my first experiences of the proximity of the
Spirit Plane happened shortly after my twenty-first birthday. My chosen career
after an average education in a girls
boarding school was art and design, and one of my first jobs took me to
Kilkenny Design Workshops were set up by the government as a service to Irish
manufacturers to improve the design of Irish products. There
were very few Irish trained designers around at that time so most of the
designers working there came from countries like Denmark, Germany, Britain and
was a great place to work and to live. Kilkenny is a beautiful medieval town
complete with a castle and tales to go with it. Because of the design
workshops, the town and its surrounding villages became a community which drew
artists and craftspeople from all over the world. I adored being part of the
‘workshops’ which were housed in the old stables of Kilkenny Castle.
weeks in the city, I moved into a flat on the top floor of a very old house. It
was basically two rooms with wooden floors and wooden wall panelling, and there
were slanted ceilings with skylights in both rooms. It was magic! And to add to
my happiness, a new friend Joni, who also worked in the workshops and who is
still one of my closest friends, lived on the floor below me. There was one
strange thing about this flat; when I was alone I often had the sensation that
I was being watched, so much so that I spent an evening plugging all the small
holes in the timber knots with paper. I was completely comfortable and at home
there despite this spooky experience and it became a regular meeting place for
a rare bunch of artists and musicians based in Kilkenny at that time. I was
really enjoying myself.
Joni and I
spent a lot of time together in those months, exploring the old streets and
buildings of the town, not to mention the old pubs as well. We fell into a very
easy and harmonious friendship which involved long hours discussing love, life
and the Universe. Many of these discussions took place sitting quietly at the
back of the Black Abbey church, an old monastery which was a very appropriate
setting for our profoundly spiritual chats. I knew I was in the company of a
true soul-mate and I was also in the process of rediscovering my spiritual
morning in the month of May, I woke up in my little flat to the sight of
glorious sunshine streaming in through the skylight windows. I looked at my
watch. It was seven o‘clock, mmmm, another hour in bed, so I lay back relaxed
and happy, a whole hour to wake up properly. I
turned on my side and from my bed I could see the entrance door to the flat. I
saw the door handle go down. Not panicking, I clearly remembered the night
before when I locked it; I always did. I was very careful about these things.
As I lay there watching, the door opened and a man dressed in a long black
monk’s habit walked in and closed the door behind him.
He came towards me and I could see the calm smiling face of my brother. The
garment he was wearing was made of rough woven black wool, dotted with little
white crosses. I wasn’t
frightened because I could feel such a peaceful energy in the room. He stood
there beside me and in the moment I moved my hand forward to touch him saying,
‘Francis’, he disappeared.
I jumped out
of bed to check the door and as I expected, found that it was locked. I didn’t
realise it at the time but this was my first adult experience of the proximity
of the non-physical spirit world. A few days later I described what had
happened to a friend who was a native of Kilkenny. He told me the garment I
described was the same as the shroud of the monks of the Black Abbey in
medieval times. I, of course, called my brother enquiring after his health,
“Never better,” he said, “No, nothing strange.”
I acknowledged this experience as being of a spiritual nature and, although I
slept with the light on for a few nights afterwards, I knew it was a connection
to a past life and absorbed it as that. Joni was intrigued when I told her
about it, so much so, that she ran out of my flat in a panic a few days later
when she went there to pick up a pair of sunglasses. I gave her the key and
told her where she would find them.Just
as she was about to leave, she got a fright, dropped everything and arrived back
up to the design workshops looking like she'd seen a ghost. She told me she had
suddenly felt eyes on her, someone watching her.
said, “it’s nothing to worry about. I had the same sensation when I first moved
Then I told
her about how I had stuffed all the holes in the wooden walls on my first night
in the place. I think she was surprised that I could still live there alone.
One thing I do know is that if I was living with a ghost, it was a very
friendly one because those days were happy, carefree days.
After many years and many
cross-roads in my life I eventually set out on the path that would lead me to
Gerard, my future husband.
I had moved
to Dublin a few years previously, bought my own house while working for a
fashion chain called Mirror Mirror and after four great years of working with
them, I had a row with the MD and left. At this stage I was beginning to
realise that these things happen for a reason and I took my time about working
this one out. I didn’t want to go chasing off in a direction that I would later
regret so I took a job that I considered to be stress free in a department
store for a year while I planned my next move.
of this I was always aware of that inner part of me and always listened to what
it told me. I was learning to go with the things that ‘felt right’ and reject
the things that didn’t.
my intuition and taking the bull by the horns I decided to start my own
decision to do this was made mostly because I wanted to have the freedom of
being my own boss and because it felt right. As you probably know, things have
a way of falling into place when we are on our right path and I was on my right
during this time that I met Gerard. He lived in a place called the Strawberry
Beds, just a few milesfrom Dublin city centre where there are two pubs close
to each other. One is called The Strawberry Hall, which I never went to and the
other called The Wrens Nest, which I occasionally drank in when I went to visit
my friends who lived down there. On this particular evening, my friends and I
went to The Wrens Nest only to discover that at 7.30.pm it was mysteriously
closed. We couldn’t believe it, this was unheard of, the pub was closed for no
obvious reason. Reluctantly, we went up to The Strawberry Hall where, an hour
or two later I met Gerard. It had all the ingredients of a meeting of destiny
which is exactly what it was.
particular lazy Sunday afternoon not long after we met, we fell asleep together
on the sofa in my living room in Drumcondra. I
woke up and as I was lying there, I remember having such a strong feeling of
felt as if I had woken up beside this man many times but in other times. I didn't pursue the time or place then, I just recognised
the feeling to be a sign that he was the man I was meant to be with and so
after a few years of living together, we got married.
I couldn't hear my inner voice at all
simply because Gerard was a very noisy person to live with. I found that his
needs very gradually became more important than mine. s took over.
This is not to say that Gerard did not give me a lot of help and support, he
very definitely did. He supported me with all his ability during several times
of crisis in my business and I would have had a rougher ride without his help.
it may sound, the bookshop Waterstone’s opening in Dublin changed my life. I
wandered in there one day shortly after it opened and I was mesmerised by a
tiny corner of the shop called ‘Mind Body Spirit’. I had never seen books like
this classified into a defined section before. I noticed also that I was never
alone browsing its shelves, that there were others interested in alternative
spiritual searching. My spiritual search, mostly dormant since my marriage, was
re-ignited by some of the books I found here. Among them was Shirley Mac
Laine’s Out on a Limb followed by Living in the Light by Shakti Gawain and
like Rip van Winkle, I began to wake from my very long sleep.
after a business meeting in Grafton Street, I was pulled towards Waterstone’s
as if by a magnet. As if being directed by some higher force, my eyes scoured
the titles - for what I did not know. Then I pulled out a book called, Discovering your Past Lives by Glenn
Williston and Judith Johnstone and felt so elated, you’d think I’d just won a
As I leafed
through the book, I was astounded to read that past life memories could be
retrieved through a type of hypnosis and that a thing called ‘past life
regression’ existed. A great curiosity arose in me about the past life memories
of my childhood and though I didn’t realise it at the time, the trigger that
would send me in search of a past life therapist was just around the corner.
After reading these books, a trip I had made to Austria just after leaving
Kilkenny kept flashing in my mind’s eye.
remembered a strange experience I had during that trip in Vienna; I was
twenty-one at the time. It was a hitch-hiking trip across Europe and the friend
I was travelling
with was an artist who I had met while working in Kilkenny. Her agenda for the
trip was twofold; she wanted to visit the Kunsthistorischest have an agenda of my own.
When we arrived in Vienna, I
had an immediate feeling of familiarity. Not just familiarity, I remarked to my
friend that I felt the entire city was shrouded in a veil of warlike
atmosphere, almost as if it were still World War II. The population seemed very
old to me and those who did speak to us spoke of their wartime memories. (I’m
sure this was no coincidence and looking back, I can see that I must have
attracted this experience.)
On the Sunday afternoon, we went walking through the
park in Vienna city centre. It was a glorious day and we stopped to listen to
an orchestra who were playing Strauss waltzes on the bandstand in the middle of
the park. This gave us the idea to look for the house where Mozart had once
lived, so with guidebook in hand we set off. Our search turned into an
afternoon of walking with no result. Suddenly without reason, I stopped at a
large entrance to a courtyard. The buildings around looked like fairly opulent
bourgeois apartments. The door into the courtyard was open and I walked through
it with unusual ease. My friend silently followed me. Once inside, I turned
immediately left and walked up two flights of an old stone staircase. When I
reached the second floor I turned left again and walked directly to a large
double-door entrance to one of the apartments. I stood at the door for several
seconds as if it would open to let me in. Then the sounds of the occupant
playing the piano wafted out and the music left me standing there in a
mesmerized state. I knew that I knew this place. I knew what I would find
behind that door if it opened right then at that moment. But it didn’t and I