To the mothers of departed children

Posted by Jessica Jewett 2 Comments »

It hardly seems possible that seven years have passed since I lost my child. This day is the anniversary of my miscarriage. Ordinarily, I avoid talking about it in public because I don’t like to think about it but I use this day to remind women who have lost children that they are still mothers. It’s something rather painful that I have observed since I lost my own baby, this phenomena of guilt by women who want to be acknowledged on certain days such as Mother’s Day but not feeling like they have the right because they never actually had the baby. The truth is, ladies, we have every right to call ourselves mothers and wish to be acknowledged in the same way that mothers are who have their children with them. My spiritual beliefs teach me that just because we did not give birth to full-term babies does not mean the souls of those babies cease to exist. They exist in a place where we will all see them again when our times come to pass from this world into the next.

For some of us, our departed children will return to us by means of reincarnation whether it is in this life or future lives. This anniversary came to me with a bittersweet air because my son was reborn over the summer to another mother, thereby fulfilling the promise made in the days prior to my miscarriage. On one hand, I will have the privilege of watching him grow into manhood, but on the other hand, he is no longer my son. You see, before I miscarried, I had a few dreams in which I was allowed to meet my child and receive comfort from him to soften the blow of the loss to come. He repeated more than once that he would be back, that I wasn’t able to be a mother yet. At the time, I thought he meant he might return to a future pregnancy of mine, whether this life or the next, but I was thinking in rather limited terms. A soul will come back in a variety of roles, something I failed to understand in my own life, despite teaching other people the same thing.

Last year, my son returned in a rather cryptic and vivid dream in which I was holding him and feeding him as an infant. Another spirit being came along – something much more evolved than myself – and touched his head, marking him somehow. Wordlessly, the being took my son from me and I was at peace with it. Not long afterward, a friend of mine announced she was pregnant and it dawned on me that the dream was meant to convey to me that my child found a new place in this world. I remained mildly skeptical, however, because such a quick turnaround rate in reincarnating (less than ten years) is not as common as one might think, although it can happen. When her baby was born, I recognized my son right away in the photographs. There is no more proof needed for me than that to know that my son found a mother to help him explore this life and still allow me to be part of it. His first initial is even still the same as it was when I named him seven years ago.

My purpose in sharing such a private story with you today is to inspire hope. Although my baby Joshua left my body seven years ago, his soul lived on and now he has a life to live here with us in the world. It does feel a little bittersweet at times knowing that I’m technically not his mother anymore but I was his mother for seven years. The love of a mother doesn’t die with the passage of time. I still have rather maternal leanings toward other souls whom I once called my own children even though many of them are older than me now. A few of my former children are now my friends and another is one of my sisters. Even my brother still behaves in a naturally paternal manner toward me because he was once my father. So you see, even though we temporarily endure the agony of loss, the loss doesn’t last forever. In one way or another, we will all meet again. Until then, try not to feel alone because the souls of those you have lost still love you and look in on you from time to time. Everything is by design and happens for a reason. Allow yourself to grieve but never forget that you are still a mother no matter if you gave birth to a full-term child or miscarried in the earliest stages of pregnancy. Allow the universe to show you the way through your grief. The light is at the end of the tunnel but you may need help feeling your way through the darkness.

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Disabilities and Psychic Abilities

Posted by Jessica Jewett 6 Comments »

A lot of people keep asking me about my theories concerning the connection between disabilities and psychic abilities.  I have talked about it at length in different places but never in a concentrated place like my blog where I can direct people when they ask me about it.  So here I am to explain it!  I don’t think this blog will be very long because it’s pretty straightforward but here we go….

My beliefs on this matter are very simple.  I believe that there is a connection between displaying natural psychic abilities and having some kind of disability whether it is physical or developmental.  (As an aside, the proper terms are physical disability and developmental disability.  Saying crippled or retarded are not at all acceptable.)  I started noticing the connection when I was rather young in school.  When I realized what it meant to be someone with psychic/intuitive/mediumistic abilities, I was somewhere around middle school, I think, and I was automatically put into special ed classes for one period a day just by virtue of being in a wheelchair.  Mainstreaming people with disabilities in school permanently is a whole other issue that I will probably talk about it another blog at some point.  But anyway, some of the other kids in the special ed classes sometimes talked about sensing presences that they couldn’t see or hearing mysterious sounds or knowing information before it happened.  Basic intuitive abilities, really.  Outside of the special ed classes, the other kids almost never talk about those things.  In fact, outside of the special ed classes, talking openly about intuitive abilities was almost always met with ridicule and bullying.  I made the mistake when I was very young of telling a few friends about the things I saw or experienced and it resulted in bullying that made me silent about it until I was well into high school almost ready to graduate.

I never gave it much thought, the question of why people with disabilities of any type were more prone to having spiritual experiences than “normal” people.  I don’t like the term normal because it implies that people like me are abnormal and I don’t think that’s right but there is no other way to compare and contrast people with disabilities and not with disabilities right now.  My mother made a friend with a professional psychic when I was in my sophomore year of high school and that woman made the suggestion to me that people with disabilities are actually very advanced souls and it’s natural to make the connection that advanced souls would be more connected to the other side.  She used people with Down Syndrome as her example, specifically naming them as being very advanced souls.  She also indicated that such people are on their last lives and will not reincarnate anymore because they have finished everything they need to learn and they’ve used their last life to teach people around them.  That was my first exposure to a theory about why people with disabilities are naturally more connected to spirituality than others.  Specifically in the areas of developmental disabilities, I have noticed that people with various forms of autism tend to displaying natural mediumistic abilities.  Several friends of mine who have children with autism also report their children having significant and legitimate encounters with spirit entities and displaying precognitive knowledge.

In my case, I don’t have any developmental disabilities whatsoever but I am technically a quadriplegic so that makes me fall into the physical disability category.  That gets a little hairier as far as fitting into the theory of why disabilities and spiritual abilities seem to be so connected.  When I was writing my book about reincarnation, I really had to address that issue because I knew other people were going to ask me about it.  That meant I had to ask a lot of very difficult questions, which is what should happen when anyone is writing a book about spirituality in any form.  It actually occurred to me when I was watching that movie Ray about Ray Charles, who was blind.  I don’t remember the exact scene or anything but the the actor playing Ray referenced the fact that because he was blind, the rest of his senses were heightened.  He was talking to a woman and told her that there was a hummingbird outside or something of that nature and she looked and found the hummingbird even though she hadn’t noticed it.  He noticed it because he could hear it.  His other senses were extremely heightened because one of his senses didn’t work properly anymore.

Most people probably don’t even realize it when they look at people with physical disabilities but we are extremely confined and many of us have some senses denied that other people take for granted.  Some of us don’t have a sense of touch at all (I do have full sensation).  Some of us are very limited in our mobility, which means we can’t just get up and go into the next room when we hear people talking.  It doesn’t matter what sense is taken away.  The other senses are going to go into overdrive to make up for the loss.  It’s not anything that happens because we intended to – it’s just the body’s natural way of coping and surviving.  Since I was very limited in where I could go and what I could do when I was younger before I had a wheelchair, I got very good at listening to everything going on around me, even in other parts of the house.  I knew where everybody was in the house, and I knew what they were doing, and most of the time, I knew about every conversation that happened under my roof even if I didn’t witness it firsthand.  Being so limited and mobility forces a person to be still and quiet much more in their lives than the average person.  That’s usually the first lesson in developing psychic abilities – be still, listen, etc.  It’s the beginning of meditation.  So people like me who are not as physically active as everyone else naturally developed the beginning stages of meditation without realizing what it was.  And as the other senses became heightened, so did extrasensory perception.  It happened for me at an extremely young age.  I started having experiences with the other side and spirit entities when I was a toddler even though I didn’t understand the terms “afterlife” or “ghost”.

In the simplest terms possible, it just comes down to being denied one or more senses and the other senses jump into overdrive to make up for the loss.  People don’t typically think of psychic abilities as another sense.  The tend to put it on a pedestal like it’s special, so special that only a few people actually have it.  I kind of disagree with that.  I think it’s just something everybody has but most people ignore and never develop.  Extrasensory ability is no different than a sense of touch or sense of smell or sense of sight.

For those of you who regularly watched Paranormal State, they often did experiments with sensory deprivation in order to open themselves up to encounters with entities.  It’s basically the same principle.  If you deny yourself certain senses, the rest of them will try to make up for the loss, and that’s really what’s happening to people with disabilities.  It may be true that people with this abilities are more evolved spiritually than the average population but I truthfully don’t know for sure.  I believe it but I can’t prove it.  It’s much more accepted to believe that sensory deprivation in any form will lead to the remaining senses becoming heightened, including extrasensory ability.  So if you have people in your life who are disabled in any form, my advice is not to question them too much if they claim to have spiritual experiences.  They’re probably telling the truth.

What are your theories?

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Being a historical outsider and whether you need approval

Posted by Jessica Jewett 3 Comments »

It’s one thing to come out about a past life case to the public and face judgment from strangers. That’s relatively easy if you’re secure in it. But it’s quite another matter when someone respected in that historical field and someone you hold in high esteem becomes aware of your case.

Cue the awkward, nervous laughter.

Cue the nail biting and the internal question of whether you’re being perceived as crazy.

I’ve been having those periodic moments of needing to hide again the way I did when my fear of being discovered was at phobic proportions. At least one Chamberlain scholar knows who I am. A few Chamberlain relatives know who I am. Some other scattered people of interest know who I am too. As interested as I am to enter into dialogue with these people (I have a little bit), I’m having trouble shaking that insecure feeling of, “What do these people really make of me?” But then I chastise myself because I’m quite secure in knowing who I am now and who I was before, yet there is an underlying fear of influential people whispering about me or thinking I’m off my rocker. There isn’t anything they can wonder about me that I haven’t wondered about myself though. As I’ve said before, I was well aware of what people thought of me back then and I’m well aware of what people think of me now. I will never fit in with the status quo and I have accepted that.

The new Chamberlain book coming out seems to be dredging up old insecurities. Historians have not always been kind to Fanny’s memory. It may be translating for me as the fear of historians possibly treating me disrespectfully when they find out why I do research in this area. I don’t come out and say it right away. When people at Bowdoin and various historical societies asked me why I was requesting research material, I lied and said I was researching for a book. It’s just safer that way. You never know who might take the words “past life” badly and treat you like a mental patient. I assure you, I am no mental patient. I’ve been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder but nothing else that would attribute to this issue of past life memories from childhood.

The truth is I don’t need approval from anyone, not even the top Chamberlain scholars. Past lives cannot be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. People must look over all of the evidence and decide for themselves. Whether the scholars ever accept me or not isn’t going to chance the truth. I know myself. I know what I’ve been through. I continue to seek the truth and my perception of the past evolves as I get older. Of course, it would be nice to not dance around the elephant in the room when I talk to scholars and simply have frank discussions about it, but the mind of a scholar doesn’t typically work on a spiritual level like this too. It would be nice to have a scholar or two on my side. Do I see that happening? No. Is it totally necessary? No.

Some things are simply true whether you believe them or not.

In some ways, after all these years, I still feel very isolated in my experiences. Telling my story has helped a lot of people – I know this because I’ve gotten hundreds of letters over the years – but I still feel like I haven’t finished what I’m supposed to do. Working closely with historians would do a lot to further the openness about past life research but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Like scientists, historians are trained to only believe what they can see and prove by documented fact. There is no document Fanny Chamberlain left behind that says, “My name will be Jessica beginning in 1982,” so no trained historian will be willing to believe it. It doesn’t diminish my desire to be recognized. I don’t like that because I constantly tell people they don’t need approval in who they are whether in the present or the past. I’m weary of the elephant in the room though. I am who I am and I was who I was. Belief or disbelief doesn’t alter the case.

I suspect there is a second edition of Unveiled: Fanny Chamberlain Reincarnated in my future. I’m not happy with the book as it exists now and I feel like I’ve learned a lot more spiritually since I began that initial journey. I have learned a lot more historically as well. There are a couple of historical errors that need to be corrected in addition to a bunch of new material. I’m toying with the idea of a very expanded second edition but I’m not sure yet. It depends on if people even want such a thing. My primary goal is to help people who have no guidance in going through past life memories. Writing it all out is cathartic for me as well.

Historians who pass by and see who I am may stop and think about it or they might just say she’s crazy and keep on their merry way. I don’t know if there is anything I can do to quell the insecurity in myself when I talk to them but I can remind myself that their belief or disbelief doesn’t change the truth. Just as with any other person, they don’t have to believe as long as they treat me respectfully. I work hard to document things, not just with the Chamberlain family, and I hope they at least recognize those efforts.

Still, it would be nice if a Chamberlain scholar was at least open to the idea of who I was in a past life. Hope springs eternal, right? Don’t be afraid of who you are now. Don’t be afraid of who you were in the past. There are reasons for everything and there are life lessons in everything.

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