Kay Taylor Parker
The following is an excerpt from Kay Taylor Parker’s newly reprinted bestseller,
TABOO: Sacred, Don’t Touch (An Autobiographical Journey Spanning Six-Thousand Years).
The following chapter can be found on page 144.
“The Princess’s Tears”
I have incarnated 182 times since my arrival on Earth in ancient Atlantis. Less than a third of those lifetimes have been male, perhaps indicating a required emphasis on the female experience as an integral part of my overall mission. With this in mind, it is not surprising therefore that a conspicuous theme has shown up time and again throughout my female experiences where I was forced to “power down” and stifle my God-given talents and abilities.
Whether I found myself as wife, mother, sister, lover, or consort, all parts were dictated to by the social climate and the dominating patriarchal attitudes of the times. The only talents I was free to express were those supporting the men in my life. Consequently I remained subservient.
I see this as part of a DNA patterning which I call the “submissive female syndrome.” Over the ages this has been a significant component in the collective human experience, one I believe is rapidly evolving as we become conscious and apply ourselves in balancing and harmonizing our relationships. In my discoveries as a counselor, I consistently find remnants of this syndrome equally in modern men as in women. Although each would manifest the signals differently, according to the individual life lessons and challenges, the end result is normally a subtle passive or martyr quality.
Several of the lifetimes where I had to conform to the culture of the day and hide, suppress, or otherwise stifle my true nature are pivotal to my experiences today. By revisiting those past life events, I have been able to systematically re-instate what I believe my authentic essence to be. It might be said that the purpose of those past life dynamics was to demonstrate the very best examples of oppression, submission, futility, and a host of other emotions and conditions.
This is, after all, the Universal classroom.
My past life exploration is strictly for the purpose of understanding and realizing greater truths—Universal truths as they apply to myself and others’ life purposes. It is essential that in regressing into former incarnations one must be careful not to apply the information in a negative manner, thereby reinforcing the ways we classically hold ourselves victim to our circumstances and the collective conditioning, which has ruled for so long. When applied positively, past life work can clarify and identify free-floating feelings, emotions, patterns, phobias, and attitudes. Most significantly, we may identify the origin of our oldest shame and reinstate our worthiness. In a time when depression afflicts hundreds of thousands and suicide numbers are increasing at a staggering rate, it provides an unparalleled avenue of self-exploration and understanding. Often it can illuminate the “bigger picture” of a person’s life path and destiny. The classic “no reason to live” feeling prompts many, especially young people, to end their lives. In most cases, to assist a person in identifying his purpose for living is to save a life.
One good example is a woman who came to me many years ago who was in total futility. She had survived many surgeries, physical and emotional pain and suffering, and yet had found a reason to fight and place meaning in her life. As a very spiritually oriented and deeply responsible person, she prayed, meditated, and worked in the holistic health field where she assisted others. Circumstances had required her to raise two sons alone, so despite all her other challenges she had even sustained single motherhood. What had so profoundly thrown her was the fact that suddenly both her sons had developed drug habits. She implored me, “I need to know what this is all about—I cannot survive this, I won’t survive this without deeper understanding.”
Through gentle and careful probing of a couple of lifetimes relevant to the situation we were able to determine a pattern where, as an over-bearing parent, she had denied them their sovereignty. The consequences both times were tragic and highly dramatic. What also was clear from the information was that neither son was an addictive personality per se. It seemed clear that, once again finding herself in the role of parent, she needed to allow them have their experiences—while not needing to dominate them, but also not condoning their actions. The fact that the issue was about drugs served to dramatize the lessons for both her and them.
“Love them through this, don’t judge them, know that there is a gift for them in their experience. The gift for you is not to personalize their actions. Meditate—see them whole. That’s how you can help them.”
I empathized deeply with her situation, yet felt intuitively that both young men would come through relatively unscathed. So would she, I suggested, as long as she remained aligned to the bigger picture. By the end of the session, the tension in her face had eased, her breathing was less labored and she had once again embraced her life. She was most grateful, and both she and her sons survived their drug experiences.
In the handful of female lifetimes I have recognized, many of my innate “Star” gifts of shaman, seer, and clairvoyant remained dormant, and I inevitably experienced great futility—not to mention feelings of desperate helplessness. Worse yet, in most of that grouping of lifetimes, I also felt guilt-ridden knowing there was so much more I could have done, so many ways I could have served had it been acceptable for a woman to take a more dynamic role.
Of the over seventy lifetimes I have chronicled, there have been several exceptional female incarnations where I did stand in my power, if only for a short while. This is with the exception of two—the first as a scientist in Atlantis, the other as a German monarch. Both of these lives were totally power-based and positive. Yet in each of the others, due to the conflicting standards and rules of the times, there were highly dramatic, even tragic consequences resulting in loss or modification of my power. The residual negative emotions from those lives never-the-less is similar in resonance to those incarnations where I experienced total subservience. All of the energy and non-resolve from this particular life group was encoded into my DNA to be healed and lifted—now.
Caroline Myss, a most gifted and dynamic speaker and creator of a brilliant audio tape series called “Energy Anatomy,” has commented that she believes that every thought and emotion we have ever had at any time is stored in our bodies—in our cellular memory. I agree. To gain access to that information requires an individual search for and a discerning of the perfect modality and/or facilitator for one’s specific needs and personality. Of course, I believe that when the student is ready, the teacher magically appears.
In my own striving to be absolutely responsible for what I want to accomplish in my life, the divine tapestry of my history has been revealed piece by piece to help me clear away all the scars and dross from my past. Incrementally, in perfect timing, and with divine wisdom guided by my Higher Selves, the ancient memories have surfaced, allowing me to understand the intricacies and essence of my Soul’s journey here today. And I can say with certain vehemence, “No wonder I’ve never married in this life!”
For I simply could not walk in a man’s shadow, God knows I’ve tried. The “conditioned me” brought me to that point several times in my current lifetime, but my Soul just wouldn’t have it. I can walk at the side, in front, together with, but not behind a mate. I’ve been there, done that—to death! Yet—I hasten to add—I say this not in a woman’s liberation-kind-of-way, my goal is unity—not separation. But to do the work for which I contracted, to align with my most authentic self, my focus must remain on my relationship with God. Does this rule out intimate relationships? Not as far as I’m concerned. In my prayers I always ask that if there is a mate for me, it must be someone who is equal to myself, or more.
I first learned of my lifetime as the young Macedonian noblewoman (whose name is Quigopa) when Aaron, my mystical friend and mentor, produced (channeled) an amazing document chronicling several past lives where our own histories had intersected. It was shortly after my friend Charles and I met. Charles came into my life, made an indelible impression, and is now gone. He was involved in world affairs, he told us, on a somewhat covert level. Constantly on the move, he met with high dignitaries from countries where there was unrest, political or otherwise. We listened to his stories and, in the way we know to be of assistance, offered moral and spiritual support as well as speculating as to the higher purpose of these events by which our new friend was so deeply disturbed. Aaron and I began to speculate about what part the three of us, as well as other close friends and spiritual allies, were to play in each other’s life drama. As High Priest, mentor, or shaman, Aaron had repeatedly been at Charles’ side throughout the ages, as he had been at mine. He had been most prolifically involved in my most significant Egyptian life, where he taught me the sacred codes of alchemy and then was forced to retrieve them from my consciousness—but that story comes later.
Aaron’s “Lifetimes Chronicle” bespoke a dozen or more incarnations where our combined destinies had been purposefully interwoven. I therefore did not realize the deep significance of my Macedonian life until much later. Here was another situation where I was born into a noble family lineage. In fact, my guides tell me that I, Quigopa, was a descendant of Alexander the Great. Once again I was deeply intuitive and clairvoyant, yet my gifts for the most part would be suppressed.
A marriage to a powerful Egyptian prince was arranged for me, a union taking me far away from my home into foreign lands while I was still a teenager. Aaron was my husband’s chief advisor—stern and protective and quite aware of my dormant gifts. This much I knew then from Aaron’s document, although it wasn’t until a decade later when I met Marcus—who played a major role in that lifetime—that my memory of the tragic events that occurred opened wide the floodgates for the emotions and unresolved feelings to fill my consciousness to be healed. The tremendous pain and futility I experienced in those ancient times surged up inside me like a powerful drug, and there was naught to do but ride it out. It took almost two years to consciously and thoroughly process every last emotion and heal every scar.
Born in the wake of the enormous impact of Alexander’s conquering exploits, Quigopa found herself in what was unequivocally one of the most notorious families in the world. During the short time she was on the planet there were no significant wars, therefore trading with the territories to the North was in full swing. When she turned eighteen the young Princess began a journey abroad to join her new husband into the lands of the Nile Delta to procure new and wealthy trade agreements. It was her first trip away from home, and it both scared and excited her. But after all, she was a monarch-in-training, and it was appropriate for her to be at her Husband’s side. Quigopa was both energetic and enchanting, with an insatiable curiosity and a powerful imagination that was—unbeknownst by most—considerably fueled by her great gift of precognition.
The huge caravan carrying her and her entourage to their remote destinations was a veritable traveling palace, and her every need and comfort was catered to by a team of servants and handmaidens. During the long journey she began to experience prophetic visions and disturbing dreams of a major earthquake and other cataclysmic events. She spoke of her visions to those close to her, passionately voicing her concerns and insisting that those in power should take steps to prepare to minimize the potential death and destruction. Once she arrived at her Husband’s court, she was bitterly disappointed when even he would not take her concern seriously. In a desperate attempt for recognition she used her flair for the dramatic, drawing groups of individuals to her while her husband and his officials were preoccupied with their affairs. Her audience of mostly women was inspired by her passion and magnetism. Few men dared to be seen with her without the Prince’s presence. Quigopa’s diplomatic finesse was, for the most part, lacking; she was a diamond in the rough, still very much an adolescent. She held nothing back as she described her visions exactly as she had seen them: ominous and threatening. Sadly, what most failed to see was the wisdom and caring behind the mask of her defiance.
After awhile she became an embarrassment to her husband, whose advisors considered her a nuisance and felt her continued presence would adversely affect her husband’s business—not to mention his goals. It was therefore Aaron who recommended the obvious solution that she should return to Macedonia. Naturally, she had no say in the matter and any resistance would have proved futile. Scorned and saddened, Quigopa complied with her husband’s wishes and embarked upon the long trip home with her proverbial tail between her legs.
Once back in her homeland, the young Princess again united with the young sculptor who had been her best childhood friend and playmate. During the early years, they had been inseparable, close as only soul mates are. They had never lacked games to play and their fertile little imaginations concocted adventures and stories, busying themselves for hours in the compound gardens. The lad was the son of a mason, one of the court sculptors and, as such, had led a fairly privileged life. But his greatest privilege was his friend to whom he pledged eternal love. When he reached an appropriate age he became his Father’s apprentice, putting to good use his creative imagination and skills throughout the vast porticos of the estate.
The young craftsman was one of the first to console Quigopa when she returned. Certain rumors had preceded her arrival and the gossipmongers had already been busy spreading elaborate rumors as to the circumstances surrounding her separation from her husband. But he knew well of his beloved friend’s gifts, and chose to ignore all the stories, opting to hear the truth from her. With great compassion and his heart full, he had watched her mature into womanhood and begin her tutelage into the ways of a noble wife. He knew that no amount of training could assist her to integrate her extraordinary gifts into the role for which she was destined. No doubt he was the only one who understood and could see her for who she was. His fears for her had been justified.
Lonely and at odds with her life, she threw herself into his arms and, fueled by their soul-connection, she surrendered to his tenderness. He also was unable to resist his inner stirrings, thirsty as he was for her love. Their passion was ignited, propelled perhaps by the fact that time seemed short—the earthquake would soon happen. But they never stopped to consider the consequences of their union, and consummated their relationship. Naturally, after the fact, Quigopa not only felt ashamed of her actions, she also feared the consequences of her infidelity being discovered—there was no shortage of spies around the family compound. She wondered if she had submitted too fast to her carnal and emotional needs, thereby endangering herself and her lover.
Two months later, the predicted earthquake struck, causing much death and destruction. Many noted the Princess’ accuracy as they struggled to cope with the disaster. Despite their skepticism, a number of Quigopa’s family and court members had taken certain precautions beyond building reinforcements—already a standard procedure on the estate. Consequently, they suffered very little damage and injury.
Now, however, a strange and spiteful pattern began to emerge: those who had heard of the Princess’ visions began to blame her and accused her of sorcery. To add insult to injury, a family court advisor (who was my friend Charles) overheard a conversation between the clandestine lovers. Their affair was exposed and overnight Quigopa’s notoriety escalated. With the family name besmirched, life in the palace became tense and challenging. Still, her family’s anger was far easier to cope with than public attitudes which, in time, she prayed would change.
It seemed this was occurring until shortly after her 23rd birthday when, as she strolled outside the palace grounds with several female court members, a group of commoners rushed towards her, pelting her with stones. They were relentless, cursing her and accusing her of conspiring with the Gods to bring about the earthquake. They had continued to blame her. Quigopa’s companions fled in terror back to the confines of the palace grounds. Paralyzed with shock and helplessness, she was hit time after time, and within moments collapsed to her knees.
Her lover, hearing the commotion and the screams of the attendants, raced to her side. He bravely forced his way through the crowd that was growing considerably in numbers, picked up his battered and bleeding love, and carried her to an abandoned hut at the side of the road. By the time he reached their tiny refuge, he too had been a target of rock and stone missiles. Inside the hut he barricaded the door against their aggressors and laid her gently on the floor. Oblivious to the merciless onslaught continuing outside, the barely conscious Quigopa and her lover declared their eternal love to each other, securing within each a frequency to remain with them for two millennia. And then, in an instant, flames engulfed the hut ignited by a torch thrown by one of the attackers. The wrath of the crowd seemed to increase the intensity of the inferno and within minutes there was little left of the tiny structure. Inside lay the charred remains of the ill-fated lovers, their bodies entwined in a final embrace.
In moments when I have attuned to the Quigopa in me, I have felt a curious mixture of energies: an immature woman straining against her innate wisdom, with the “knowing” of a genius trapped in a child’s body. I have felt her frustration of being so sadly misunderstood by those around her. So many it would seem—despite her position in life—had power over her. Her futility, with the fact of her predictions not being taken seriously, is as deeply familiar to me as is her sadness at being ordered back to Macedonia and leaving her husband, whom she genuinely loved and respected. I have also felt the great joy she experienced with her soul mate and, later, her great love. Most poignantly, of all my ancient self’s emotions which have surfaced is the discovery of another pertinent piece of information: that she was in fact pregnant with her lover’s child when together they met their demise in the blazing hut. This was the final piece of the puzzle I needed to fully heal the scars from that lifetime, to finally release the fear attached to her dramas and integrate her energy and gifts into my current life experiences.
The memory of this lifetime fully surfaced in 1993 when I met the person who had been my childhood friend and lover in ancient Greece. At a time when I continued to put out feelers for ways to supplement my still meager income from counseling, I answered an ad in a film industry newspaper involving a small role in an independent movie. The role called for some nudity, yet the ad was written in such a way as to indicate that it was an art film. Some months had passed after I responded by mail and I had, for the most part, forgotten all about it, when on June 16th I received a call from Marcus. Despite the fact that my needs had shifted and my interest had certainly waned, I agreed to meet with him.
The young filmmaker arrived at my home as I was dealing with a plumbing problem in the upstairs apartment of the house I live in and care for. I sensed his presence even before he came into my vision. As he crossed the street moving towards my gate, I caught my first glimpse of him. There was an immediate recognition on a soul level. Outwardly his physical appearance reflected his deeply artistic nature, his mannerism polite and sensitive.
“You’re Marcus,” I greeted him, not doubting for a moment who he was. “Go ahead inside and make yourself comfortable—I’ll be right there after I handle the plumber.”
When I came back downstairs, Marcus was standing in my garden under a large palm, as if in an altered state. He silently followed me inside my apartment and sat down. We shared some polite conversation, most of which I didn’t hear because of an intense ringing in my ears. These sensations are not unknown to me and are always indicative of soul recognition and reunion, usually portending adventures into past-life discovery. This time it was significantly more intense than usual. (On one such occasion, in a meeting with a very powerful individual, I almost fainted, the energy was so potent). Although I mostly consider such reunions to be good and positive events, they can also be a little unnerving. In the case of Marcus, it was apparent that we had come together for a purpose beyond what was evident in that moment, something mystical and transformational.
On a purely physical level, there was an immediate attraction—this was clear to both of us. Simultaneously, however, was the practical reality of the purpose of the meeting. Personally, I was aware of multi-dimensions of reality clicking into gear. It was as if all my chakras, from the base of my spine to my crown, were charged and vibrating at an alarming rate. But, as challenging as the moment was, we focused on the matter at hand: the film and the necessary details. I honestly wasn’t sure that I could bring myself to do the nudity required in one of the character’s scenes. It had been a number of years since I had appeared in-the-buff on film; my body had changed and my self-consciousness had returned. But there was one other element holding significant weight: the scene in question was a fantasy sequence with Marcus himself! All facts considered, this felt like dangerous territory. The bottom line, I admitted frankly, was that I would have to mull it over. Marcus deposited the script on my coffee table and left.
Much later after our entire involvement was over, I wrote Marcus a letter reflecting on that first meeting:
So we sat, you and I, and we talked. Truthfully, I could barely hear what you were saying to me. The sub-plot was profound, loud in an inaudible way, stunning in a non-visual sense. I know you felt it too. You made a comment as you left, something to the effect of, “This is deep.” My inner judge by that time was already at work wagging her finger and running her dialogue, …”attractive younger man, …taking off your clothes again, …tsk, tsk.”
After you left, I read your script. Mostly I loved it, yet as you know, I was split down the middle when I read the part of the “alluring woman.” Again my practical mind stepped in and assured me that this was my opportunity to just say No—something which has always been hard for me. It seems simple enough; I don’t have to do anything I don’t feel completely comfortable with. Back on the phone with you the next day, I initially declined your offer, but you asked me what you could do to make me feel more comfortable with the part. You could so easily have let it go at that point. Maybe it wasn’t so easy to find someone to do the role—I’m not sure, but I do know that you knew there was something else going on: the resonance of our past together.
“Well, let’s talk some more about it,” I was surprised to hear myself reply. As the words came out of my mouth, I once again felt the familiar feeling sweep over me, rendering me dizzy and a bit overwhelmed. Simultaneously I was afraid that I’d scare you away because of who I am. I’ve often been accused of being too deep, but I am sensitive and I view life multi-dimensionally. I guess that automatically makes me deep. The way I see it, we are here to clean up our “stuff,” so I am always alert to ways where I may do that. For me, there is nothing more important. I spend time every day looking for ways to grow and release the past. We seers have the ability to see so much more than is obvious to most people. That’s the good and the bad news, but a God-given talent, regardless.
(Past lives hold such keys for us revealing why we re-create certain events and issues—until we get it right! In my work I am able to map such things out, clarify them and put them in perspective in terms of the here and now.)
I also feared that you’d think I was a horny middle-aged woman (yuck!) who just wanted your body. Truth is, I would like to experience a beautiful kind of intimacy with you, whether sexual or not—sex is not the criterion for me but intimacy requires willingness to be vulnerable. I think we’re both a little afraid of that—no?
In one of our earlier conversations you expressed a fear of loosing me, echoing my own sentiments. I didn’t ask you any more about your statement—rather, I felt moved to assure you I wouldn’t go away. My own fear comes from a deep-feeling place where past-life memory exists, where vows or promises made are recorded along with the pain of unfulfillment and loss.
I also feared that you were afraid I’d try to manipulate you in some way. It was in your eyes that it had happened to you in the past…
I did not finish the letter. My critical self talked me out of it and wrote it off as another exercise in personal processing.
My part in the movie was shot over two days in a quaint old gold-mining town outside of Los Angeles. The basis for my decision to take the role in Marcus’ film was more about a sense of destiny playing out rather than for any other reason. Certainly my diminutive fee could not be factored into my choice since, if I broke it down into an hourly rate, it was completely ludicrous. If there was a higher purpose, I was willing. I knew there was. Marcus was a prince, and went out of his way to make me feel comfortable, despite the infinite pressure on him from all angles. Not only had he written the script, he was directing and starring—a feat requiring the utmost concentration and impeccable decision-making. I felt almost guilty that he was so attentive towards me. When it came right down to the scene I had dreaded, it was handled with the utmost sensitivity and executed in a matter of moments.
When it was all over, I experienced a mixture of relief and sadness. I was sad because, although initially we had expressed a mutual desire to stay in touch, I knew it would most likely not happen. Regardless, in the weeks and months following, lifetime after lifetime in which Marcus and I had been together surfaced, providing countless opportunities for me to heal ancient scars and balance energies. It was like having a relationship with all of our past lives again, alone. Still, I felt grateful. One day a close friend who frequently assisted me (and I her), observing my process and witnessing the depth of emotion involved in the lifetimes with Marcus, commented, “You fell in love with him!”
Wow!—her statement threw me for a loop. Really? Was that how falling in love looks? True to my Virgoan nature, I immediately drew an analytical definition. So what was it? What was the invisible force, the dynamic by which two individuals are pulled together? Against all odds and many times illogical and reckless—often resulting in deep drama—falling in love may be anything but blissful and easy. I deduced that, in fact, that mystical force for most is a combination of unresolved past-life resonance and basic self- (child or adolescent) attraction. Are we not mirrors for each other and do we not witness the best and the worst of ourselves in those with whom we are relating? This is why so many relationships are so challenging—there’s a lot going on. It may (usually does) require constant vigilance to maintain a sense of harmony while functioning in a union, whether intimate or otherwise. What is crucial is that both parties are willing to be responsible for their own growth while not placing blame on the other, and allowing each the space to be authentic.
Almost exactly a year later, I received a phone call from the film’s producer inviting me to a screening for Marcus’ movie. So much had transpired in the interim. When I saw Marcus, the same familiar energies, at once poignant and uncomfortable, rose up inside again. My soul was happy to see him but my heart was still sad. After the screening, there was a quick hug—no time for any conversation, and I went home. I couldn’t let it go like that and I thought he might want to know about my discoveries—after all, there could well be residue from those lives in his present life experience. Once again I decided to write him a letter:
Dear Marcus, How good it was to see you last night. As you greeted your audience and stated that it had been exactly a year since you began production on your film, I had just whispered to my friend who was with me that it was about a year ago we met and I began my adventure with you this time around. We didn’t have a chance to speak last night and so I decided to pen this letter to you.
My adventure with Marcus … I have often mused over these last months … he’ll never know the half of it. But after seeing you again, all these months later, I thought you might be interested in knowing about my discoveries about you and me on the higher planes of reality. After all, we promised to stay in touch with each other—so here I am. Then I remembered the letter I began to write to you last year, primarily for my own process. I’m pretty sure I didn’t send it since it’s incomplete. It seemed appropriate now to send you a copy of that as the first chapter of the adventure, so-to-speak. Read that first, it’s on the green paper….
Then the story continues:
In my reality our journey began many eons ago. The person who attended your screening last night is not the same person you met a year ago; my growth has been amazing. For your part in that I am grateful. Becoming free holds top priority for me, so I use every opportunity to release whatever I can from the past in order to move closer to my fullest potential. I’ve never seen the paradox of life more clearly than now—on one hand I’ve always been a late bloomer, yet I have also felt way ahead of my time. I have never been more ready for my dreams than now, even though I sometimes forget how much I have accomplished so far. From here on it will be vastly different because of who I’ve become.
We actualize ourselves through our relationships with people, situations, or things—that’s a fact. Personally, I believe that anyone I attract will be part of me in some way, therefore emotions which come up in relationship to that person usually indicate something deeper to discover.
So, what magical discoveries I have made about our past! As issues have come up day after day, the lifetimes began to filter up to the surface to clarify my feelings and assist me to release countless layers of shame, guilt, rage, etc. Back in late August of last year I had a dream in which I was an American Indian. I actually heard the name of the tribe in my dream: Chippewa. In the dream an elder handed me a ceremonial robe and said, “Put this on, it’s time—you’ve earned it!”
I explored this dream in the way I do and discovered a lifetime in the 1700’s as a Chippewa. I was a female shaman and you were my Father. A friend of mine, Charles—for the past seven years a most significant player in my life (until recently)—was the chief. Both you and he wanted me to marry. You had someone in mind within the tribe and he desired me to marry outside for purposes of power. You won, and I married a brave who is a friend of mine today. But my passion was stifled and I made a promise in that life never to marry again—ever! Interesting that I haven’t in this life—so far (there have been other layers of this kind of self-prohibition I’ve found along the way). Furthermore in that lifetime, I fell into a deep depression, and the Chief ordered some kind of a “mercy killing” to put me out of my deep misery. I had deep grief, anger, and shame for not having practiced my gifts.
In October a past life surfaced as a result of examining why, when I was 27, I shut down a piece of belief in myself. Someone with whom I was briefly involved had “turned me against myself.” The root issue traced back to a lifetime where the same person was a slave owner who purchased me and my husband (a long-time love of mine in this lifetime). You were our love child born in the South after our journey from Africa. The “Master,” whose personality in current times fits the profile from the past, fell in love with me and claimed me for himself. He sent my husband away, but you were allowed to stay with me. Forced into a relationship with him, I bore him four children. You watched closely over me. His wrath for you grew, not only because I continued to grieve for your Father, but because I adored you over the other children. Something happened for which he falsely accused you and, in a fit of rage, he whipped you severely. You died in my arms. It was too much to bear, and I also passed-on shortly after. I harbored deep remorse at not being able to save you, and for leaving my other children—all of whom are in my life today.
(Synchronistically, the same day I was processing all of that, you sent me the Polaroid of yourself holding the shaman wand I made for you.)
Also, in October I was examining an issue about being accepted by boys relating back to when I was thirteen. This referred to a lifetime in the Orient where the fact I had large breasts was not only unusual but was challenging. You worked for my parents as an artist in some fashion and we became endeared to each other. Because I was so young our relationship left an indelible mark on my entire life. You said something to the effect that I would always be your “dream woman.” In your film my role was that of a woman in a dream sequence. Later in that lifetime I became a prostitute or Geisha.
There was another American Indian lifetime in which you were once again my child. The significance here is that many of us made a pact to return to this place called California to help heal the land we so loved. A handful of us who had “the sight” foresaw the devastation in the future and we vowed that, God willing, we would reincarnate to play our part in balancing the Earth’s energies.
Let me not forget the Greek lifetime where I was married to a powerful man. You were a sculptor, son of a master craftsman who worked for my family. We were childhood soul mates who later became lovers. As in so many lives, I had the “sight,” and experienced frequent premonitions of a major earthquake. Although I was constantly admonished for speaking of such things, my conscience propelled me to do so since I felt the calamity was imminent. Of course, most would not believe me, and yet the earthquake came to pass, causing great death and destruction. It was then that the non-believers turned on me, accusing me of sorcery. Long after I thought things were rebuilding and returning to normal, I was attacked by a group of civilians who relentlessly assaulted me with rocks. You came to my rescue, following which we died tragically in a hut ignited by one of my assailants. (I remember something you shared with me I feel is eerily synchronous with and relative to that lifetime.)
My discovery of that lifetime has helped me to clarify a deep-rooted feeling I’ve long wanted to understand as to why, when I ask for anything, I don’t feel anyone is listening. More accurately, I now realize that it’s more to do with being heard. Again, it was my shame about those individuals killed or harmed by the earthquake I predicted, including you, which has held the resonance in place until now.
Last night after the sweet experience of seeing your beautiful film, I sat at home in deep reflection, and in an instant found myself in a pool of intense perspiration. I remembered that the same thing happened after I met you and throughout the time we were making the film. Many would call this the “vapors” or proclaim it to be menopause related, but I know better. My truth says that it has more to do with karma burning off. Suddenly I saw an Atlantean lifetime in which I was a man and you were a woman. Our love for each other was deep and profound, but I was duty-bound to leave in search of new horizons. We sensed we might never see each other again and made a promise that, should it come to pass, we would find each other again in another lifetime. (Perhaps this explains the mutual fear we expressed shortly after we met—that we would lose each other.)
Well, I guess we fulfilled the promise, again and again. We’ve been many things to each other over many journeys. How sweet it is.
I just wanted to share a little from my year’s experiences since I know how much you appreciate stories. The book of stories you brought to me continues to inspire. Yet what greater story is there than our own from which we may inspire others. Appropriately, a friend of mine wrote a song called “Living the Book of My Life.”
And speaking of books, “Mists Of Avalon” has been coming up for me again. Did you ever read it? I made a call to see what’s doing with the film adaptation. I’m told that Warner Brothers has the rights.
So the journey to Tintagel begins again!
Much love, Kay
I finally decided to mail both letters. Marcus responded in writing, thanking me for sharing. Sadly, since that time, our paths have not crossed again. I am struck however by how much a brief encounter can affect a person’s life—how he affected mine, although it was not our destiny to remain connected. In the end, it would seem that the gifts involved in reuniting, for however brief a time, were related to more deeply connecting to my power and my innate gifts.
What has constantly struck me about relationships throughout the years, whether brief or otherwise, is their function in bringing me in closer union with God. This is the gift of all human interaction. If only we could know this across the board, we might celebrate all of our unions, whatever their nature. It boils down to the issue of greater responsibility for all we create and who we create as our divine mirrors. Everything originates from love—even negativity I see as positivism at odds with itself. Therefore, in the most challenging of relationships we have the greatest opportunity to behold the gift we are. The traps we fall into are when we take things personally and falsely identify what or who is standing in front of us. In the new paradigm of human relationships and partnering, particularly those of a romantic and emotional nature, we know that the old ways of co-dependency don’t work and cannot work. Why? Because we are here to be all that we are—total beings! I used to cringe when I would hear someone refer to their partner as their “better half.” Although I believe the term was intended as acknowledgment of the spouse or mate, it seemed self-deprecating on the part of the speaker. And back in the 60’s and 70’s we referred to our partners as “old lady” or “old man” (many still do). Not too reverent, though it occurred to me that “old” was perhaps a tad better than “half.” In either case, it seemed to me that attitudes in relationships deserved a face-lift.
I am reminded of a deeply poignant scene from the movie, “Enemy Mine,” a story of a reptilian alien and a human trapped on a deserted planet together. The androgynous alien, played so sensitively by Lou Gossett Jr., begins a metamorphosis of reproduction as the outraged human (Dennis Quaid)—replete with his biases and homophobic small thinking—struggles to conceive of such a phenomenon without the involvement of male and female counterparts. In the simultaneously blissful and painful throes of birthing from which it knows it will not survive, the Alien scoffs at the human condition requiring two genders which struggle to be whole. The Alien dies as the Human is forced to assist in extracting the tiny reptile from its parent’s body, bringing it into life. And, as fate has it, he becomes the newborn’s guardian—and a much bigger person for the experience.
We would do well to take note of such a scenario in these times as we boldly go to the other ends of the Universe in our imagination by way of film, radio and television programs, publishing, the Internet, and the undisputable fact of world-wide UFO sightings. In no uncertain terms we seem to be readying ourselves for contact with other species. Will we be intelligent enough to interface with extra-terrestrials (all a part of God’s vast creation) if we still cannot grasp how to love and embrace each other here on planet Earth?
I believe that one primary way we may prepare is to look more deeply than ever before within ourselves at our relationship to our very existence. Clues to the gifts and purpose we are here to fulfill may be found in the threads to our major life lessons running through many of our lifetimes. For me personally, it has been crucial to consciously connect to my distant past for the “bigger picture” of why I’m here. And specifically, by reuniting with young Quigopa’s energy and her pains that carried through into my current lifetime, I have recognized not only deeper significance to the innate power in me, but also the fear and resistance which might have held it back.
But the Macedonian princess was just one layer for me to heal and integrate into the present; there were many others. The scars from both male and female lifetimes have provided a most unique journey as a sort of spiritual anthropologist to find the pieces to guide me back to my divine nature. However, there was one lifetime above all others which left its mark and provided the greatest challenge of exploration . . . and ancient Egypt was its location.
©2001 Kay Taylor Parker — reprinted with kind permission of the author.
Kay Taylor Parker has been a metaphysical counselor for over thirty years, and succeeding a highly successful career as an actress in the Adult Film Genre, her personal path of healing took her deeply into past-life regression. In the process, she discovered many answers and revelations about the dynamics of human evolution and the collective journey upon which we are all embarked. In her book, Parker openly shares her personal and highly diverse story, which highlights the integration of her own sexuality and spirituality, the release of shame, and the exploration of the “bigger picture” of her lives’ experiences.