Chapter 5

Shift 3 - A Scottish Experience

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew that the observer had moved off, obviously repelled by the force field around her as she worked, because this was work and heavy-duty stuff at that. She resolved to go forward and make her way towards the next block of energy. In no time at all, she felt the now familiar resistance build up against her, much more adeptly than before, and she threw herself forward, as if diving into a cold pool of water.

She was caught in the mists. All she could hear were calls and moans, groaning, anguished cries for help. Driving rain soaked her hair and her shawl, which she pulled around her, her long skirt trailing through the mud as her shoes filled with the blood streaked, swamped water at her feet. She had a lantern in her hand and she was looking for her husband, a member of the MacDonald Clan, and a follower of Bonnie Prince Charlie. He had gone out a few days before to rally to the cause to get Bonnie Prince Charlie on his rightful throne. He had survived the march to Derby and back. They had re grouped, ready to meet Cumberland at this place, Culloden Moor, near the town of Inverness at the mouth of the River Ness. The Clava Cairns but a field away, the standing stones there had borne witness to this the bloodiest massacre on the battlefield.

They hadn’t stood a chance. They had fought well. They were bold men and brethren. They loved their country, they loved their man, but they were sorely badly organised, ill equipped and ill informed.

She searched, throwing light into the faces of many of the injured and dying. They grabbed at her skirt, but she had to keep going to find him. Then she did. He was lying on his back, blood spattered and dead. Her bright young man, her soldier laddie, her love, her soul mate, the father of her child, the one who made her heart sing with laughter and love as they warmed each other’s bodies of a night under their blankets and quilts. How she loved this man. She lifted his cold wet body to her chest and keened her heart out. There was nothing to say or do except make her sound, the sound of the Mother, the wife, the sister, the daughter, the woman, the love, the Magdalene and the life.

What one of us would knowingly and wittingly send our beloved out to die for what, a man’s ego and need for power? His desire to sit on a throne, dictate and exploit. Who among us would knowingly sit back and say nothing and do nothing to stop this unnecessary loss of life, this needless death this empty victory.

Janet keened and keened, sobbed and sobbed. Nought would console her until her father arrived with the horse and cart to take her beloved to the village where she would lay him to rest. She would see him in heaven. He would remember her. She hoped one day that she would find it in her heart to forgive all concerned for this travesty, for this cutting down of her man amongst the youthful flower of Scotland.

She wondered then when would battles stop? When would we remember that we are all one human race, one heart, one mind? Here, not just to survive, but to flower and blossom, live and love together. Remembering to honour and respect each other, allowing for others opinions and valuing them as our own. Working, supporting and cooperating with each other with a community spirit. Where had all this competition and fear come from?

She wondered when would we remember? Was life meant to be a struggle, anguish and pain? Or could this heaven spoken about by the religions really come to earth. She wondered. There were, of course, religious wars she heard of now again, so even they seemed to have to impose their will on others, rather than just allowing Love to flourish, magnetise and attract people like bees to the honey of life.

She had heard a mighty healer had lived in Fortingall in Perth hundreds of years ago, his family from far off lands where they had been with the one who had been sent as the prophet. She wondered. She cried. She sobbed a morbid deep sadness and loss surfacing - the loss of humanity for each other. What a loss!

She would never let her child go to war. She made this vow here and now. She knew many women who professed to be proud of their sons dying for their country. What else could they do? They had to justify it somehow to make themselves feel better. She could understand their desire to do that. She knew that she couldn’t do that. Nothing in her being would allow her to lie. She would have had to wear a mask to pretend, the hurt was so deep. She was not prepared to lie to make armies and leaders feel better about allowing their young men to die on battlefields. They may be able to suppress and shut down their emotions but she could - and would not. Humans are wired for peace not for war.

Her voice still keening for her love, lifted up to the night sky and soared with the eagles. She sent her prayer for peace up on the dovelike sound of her voice - the voice of the Magdalenes. The love that goes beyond all understanding shall return.

Marianna looked around her, she was back in the present moment, breathing deeply she restored her equilibrium, felt the forgiveness and love pervade her every cell as she relaxed. In that moment, she felt lighter than she had felt for some years. She had obviously carried the imprint of that loss around in her energy field for all her lifetimes since it had happened. No wonder life could feel heavy and burdensome at times, struggling around under the weight of all this past life debris.

That was the conclusion of the first 3 stages of her task. Clearly, the cleansing of past lives, although she was sure not all of them, but perhaps the worst of them, were now healed and forgiven. There was a freedom. She felt that her heart centre was letting go of a lot of the shrouds and blocks that had surrounded it for hundreds of years and lifetimes.

What would the next situations hold for her? She had been released from some of her past life patterning, hopefully the most important ones. What was next?

She walked forward, along, around, feeling the swirl of the energy. A little dizzy here and there, however, she was focused on keeping her intent and purpose clear. Nothing was to distract her.