Book Review: Memories of Heaven

This book is a simple as the title reads. It is a matter-of-fact book. A recollection of information gathered from many willing parents all over the world that shared the “strange” recollections their children had, of their lives before they were born.

The chapters are divided by themes and for every theme there is an introduction by both authors.  The chapters are:

Memories of Heaven, Memories of Past Lives, Memories of Choosing Parents, Memories of Family Reincarnations and Role Reversals, Memories of Spiritual Connections to Our Source, Mystical and Precognitive Wisdom, Invisible Friends and Spiritual Visitations, Angel Stories.

There is no elaboration of the data. No philosophical or religious attachment of any kind mentioned in the book. No agenda behind it all. They are the simple words that came out of these children.

It is as transparent as every young child can be. And because of such candidness that this book can have a powerful impact, if one just stops to think about it.

Published by Hay House in October 2015

Timewatch Book Review

I was fascinated by the idea of time travelling and the transportation to previous lives. The story builds up fairly quickly. Maybe it was just me but I was a bit confused throughout the book with all the family members taking part in jumping backwards, forwards and lateral in the timeline.

Most of the time the story did make sense and was enjoyable. What left me perplexed was the idea behind it all.

The scope of the Morgan family is to go backwards in time and stabilise the timeline. During their 20th century lifetime there was a huge risk, that because of a time portal, others who had not so humanitarian motives would change events in the past and so change the present.

Nothing wrong with that idea…

What I couldn’t digest well was that all this hassle was being done so the history of the USA formation was not touched, the Indians defeated and eventually USA will become the world greatest war nation that will protect the rest of the world from evil nations.

Maybe because I am European. Maybe because frankly I think USA has been meddling too much with world affairs and its war tactics. Maybe because to me it felt more like a USA propaganda “we know the best for all you in the world”, this book didn’t sit quite right with me.

Pity because the idea on the whole was fascinating.

Published by Hay House available in paperback & ebook

Virgo New Moon 2014

(This piece of writing came to me whilst I was on the balcony watching the stars (and two shooting stars) and listening to this song after a sleepless night and an exhausting day decluttering my study and trying to make sense out of my life.

Benjy Wertheimer – One River

I suggest reading this writing following the rhythm of the drums, as you please, letting yourself be carried by the eternal beat of life in its daily earthly rituals that talk to our Soul. Enjoy!)

There is always a place I will somehow call home,

It is somewhere amongst those stars,

I keep on staring at nearly ever night.

And each time I trespass the door of that home,

something makes me feel safe.

Something reminds me,

soothes my frail nerves,

my aching heart,

doubting soul.

A Voice whispers...

that I am following a Thread,

a magical Web...

A tortuous River,

woven in many lifetimes,

in many epochs,

far and near...

And each time,

however extremely different the situation is.

I somehow,

finally return to that home,

to that call,

to that unmistakable Whisper.

That formulates its Sense,

in between the Silences,

emerging from primordial Chaos,

bubbling with Divine Order.

Be it under a tree in the city of Velia,

Under the Menhir guarding the Megalithic temples of the Goddess,

Near the well of a mediaeval cloister,

Amongst blossoming night white flowers on the ziggurat,

Or near the Nile watching the Orion rise,

celebrating the blessings of a new New Year.

I always come back to this call,

where my Logic fails,

my Ego surrenders,

as It remembers in its bones,

as a burning mark on the skin,

that pierces the Soul,

and robs away the sleep from the night.

Of a promise,

of a service.

Beyond Me,

Yet only through Me.

The eternal doubting Me.

Dreaming of Babylon

The dial turns and the 29^th degree clicks.

My eyes close and a portal is opened.

My feet are wearing simple leather sandals,

climbing slowly the yellow stone stairs,

flanked with fire torches,

carved out in a long upward corridor.

At the top it opens to the darkness of the night,

to the smell of fresh air,

and flowers in the garden.

Silence envelops my being,

while now and then a cricket keeps time of the Earth's rhythm.

I stopped, 

levelled my sight on the horizon.

The full Moon was rising,

illuminating sensually the many towers dispersed in the high planes.

The stones seemed to vibrate with cool fire,

while symbols came to life.

I turned to my left and found him.

My Master.

“You see you've made it, you have, come back.

Look at the Moon and the stars,

they have been waiting for you.

Many lives have died but one is the soul. “

My eyes filled with tears

and my body shivered.

At last I have come back home...