Marie is over commited and burnt out, the feelings of guilt which drive her are real but not of this world

I am time traveling with my client Marie, a nursery nurse who also works long hours as a volunteer for a variety of children’s charities. She is with me to understand why she overcommits and burns herself out. 

We are standing next to a small boy, he has an unruly mop of dark hair and large brown eyes which conceal a quick intelligence. He is busy polishing a large slab of stone by hand and he seems happy in his work. It is hot and dry but lush, we can sense in the distance the beginnings of a desert. We stand close to high majestic buildings, beautifully built with tall entrances.

Where are we, and why are we here? 

Marie telepaths squinting at her surroundings, breathing in the atmosphere of a time long gone. She does not yet understand that she she is observing herself as a boy in a past life. 

You will see, I respond. Remember why you came to see me.

Although the boy is relaxed, those around him are not, they have a harsh taskmaster. A beefy man wearing a golden circlet walks around with a small whip which he uses freely, encouraging his labourers to work harder and faster. He is not a cruel brute, rather a man on a mission, using the tools of his time. He must have a soft spot for the boy, or perhaps he appreciates the care that he takes in his work, either way the child is left unmolested.

Invisible, we explore, observing that this intense activity is part of a massive project. Stones are being prepared and taken away to a huge structure nearby. The air around us pulses with sweat and fear, but there is more, there is also an undercurrent of awe. We are in an ancient time when things were very different but something is going on here that we are not yet aware of.

The foreman walks over to the boy and barks instructions at him. The boy retorts with a cheeky grin and moves off quickly. The response of the child initially annoys the foreman but then he smiles and shakes his head. He looks reflectively at the young slave as he carries out his new task with enthusiasm and care, exactly as instructed.

The foreman delegates responsibility and disappears into the shadows of a nearby building, when he returns he calls the boy over.

Without any prompting from me Marie gasps, recognising herself in the energy field of this cheeky boy, who is now following the foreman into the dark high entrance of a tall stone building. Other slaves exchange concerned glances as the boy dutifully walks behind the man with the whip. In their eyes this excursion is not good and will not end well for the child. Some shiver and make a sign to dispel evil. We follow.

As we enter the magnificent building our skin is caressed by cooler, damp air which smells of moist earth. It takes some time for our vision to adjust to the gloom inside. When we do we see that it is a beautifully kept building. The murals are fresh and vibrant, the people inside well-dressed and very clean. We walk towards a central chamber.

I can see that the young boy is putting on a brave face trying to conceal his growing apprehension. The arrogant, bossy demeanour of his supervisor changes to deference and humility as we approach a majestic being sitting on large stone throne in the central chamber.

The child is doing mental arithmetic as he looks at the strange hybrid-being sitting there. Seated it is already taller than the nearby priests that serve it.

“Six cubits” the boy mouths to himself.

The foreman kneels before the creature in front of them and the boy follows suit. We can see that even with his head bowed, the boy is fascinated and intrigued by what he sees.

Sitting on a throne is a large humanoid. Dressed in the clothes of the period he appears normal and human, if not exceptionally tall and well built, but he does not have a human head. From the shoulders up his form changes into the head of a large bird. This is not a huge man wearing a headdress, it is a blended being, part human, part bird.

This being does not need to use any words to communicate with those kneeling before him. He scans the child reading his thoughts, feelings and intentions. Then he addresses the supervisor.

Well chosen, he telepaths, this child is perfect. His insolence indicates a quick wit. He has an intelligence and integrity that we need. You did well not to punish him, he will be reliable, he has a pure heart.

He turns to the clean shaven, bald headed priests nearby.

Give the boy the package and tell him what to do with it. Turning to the boy, This is to remain a secret.

A priest steps forward carrying a small basket which they hand over to the child. His eyes widen as he sees what is in it.

Reward the child, we may use him again. 

The creature on the throne focuses his attention again on the boy, this time I sense that he is opening the boy’s heart. The child sheds a tear as he smiles at the bizarre half human creature before him.

The child is ushered out carrying the basket, now covered to hide it’s unusual and precious contents. We follow and as we leave we realise we are not invisible to the being on the throne. It scans us.

You know you cannot change anything here. It telepaths probing me.

This is not our intention. I state clearly and quickly.

Then bear witness to my greatness and the truth of my being. I know in your time you have forgotten my kind. Share this with the others from your time… I and my brothers and sisters will walk again on this earth.

I turn and bow, truly understanding that ancient hieroglyphics were not symbolic drawings but accurate depictions of the beings who once walked amongst us.

The child is smart enough to obey his instructions to the letter. But he is anxious.

He walks through the building site and finds a quiet place on the banks of the broad muddy river that dominates the environment. He wades out as deep as he can. Removing the cover, he looks down at the gurgling happy child in the basket, a well fed and joyful little boy. Doing as he was told, he releases the basket into the current and it floats slowly away downstream, buoyant. He returns to his work but he is deeply troubled, not knowing what will happen to the baby in the basket.

Marie is sobbing quietly. 

So this is where my guilt started, she telepaths.

Yes, the boy carried this for the rest of his life and you have experienced it in every subsequent incarnation. It has affected your actions ever since. Are you ready to release it?


Then come with me. 

I take her hand and we leave the sprawling construction site, flying over the great river, following the basket downstream. It travels downstream, occasionally spinning but always righting itself. The baby is exposed to the sun and becomes sunburnt; it begins to dehydrate and starts crying. Whoever made the basket knew something about buoyancy, because although the reeds are absorbing water it is not sinking and the baby, who now has a wet back, is still above water.

The basket washes into reeds at the side of the river as the sky turns blue-pink with the setting sun. The baby is now exercising its lungs to the fullest. An elegant, well-dressed woman wearing the signs of a priestess is walking by. She hears the child and instructs her acolytes to retrieve the basket and feed the child. 

She does not seem terribly surprised to find it and it is obvious she will care for it.

Marie is sobbing again, but now it is with relief.

It’s time for you to forgive yourself and stop feeling guilty about this incident. Once you do so everything will change. You will no longer be driven to exhaustion trying to save children, your life will come into balance. 

You can be at peace now, the child is safe.

All stories are © 2019 Raym Richards and are extracted from his book “Sprit World. A diary of an Urban Shaman” available through iBooks and Amazon or directly from Crystal Dreaming