Past-life Regression

Breakfast at Omega

Breakfast was uneventful – a group of pleasant people enjoying an organic breakfast. I had only been here hours and already I could feel my spirit relaxing into this soulful environment of gentle voices and gentle manners. Giant fans whirled lazily overhead in the beautiful timber dining hall. I idly wondered how many Americans were nostalgic for the summer camps of their childhood. As an Australian, this was a foreign environment with unknown rules. I released all expectations and allowed for whatever to happen… to happen. Magic was in the air.

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Image: Tranquility, Anne Marie McGlasson, 2015

Volunteers scrambled to make sure we got our breakfast. The kitchen was run with military precision. There was a ripple of disconcerted murmurs amongst the breakfast diners as they realised that meat was served only twice a week. The news was even worse if you had a sweet tooth. I could see how desert could become a celebration if it was only served twice a week. I found boiled eggs to add to my spinach leaves. I was happy.

And the coffee drinkers were happy. Yes! Thanks to Dr Brian Weiss, there was coffee. We were to find out that some years prior, he had carefully explained to administrators that the workshop was uncomfortable for people suffering withdrawl symptoms. The coffee machine sat side by side with organic juices. I went for the juice.

My new friend returned with her breakfast and the entourage she had gathered around her since her arrival. I expected soul connections, after all this was a ‘Past Life’ workshop, but I thought that was pretty efficient for overnight.

She gave me a pretty smile and turned her big brown eyes on me.

“Hello, my name is Bhavi.”

“Pabi?”

“Bhavi… Bhavi…” she said, giving me a chance to tune my ears into her name and her liquid Indian accent “but some people have trouble with that… you can call me Bobbie if you choose.”

What she didn’t know is that my mother’s name is Bobbie.

What I didn’t know was that she looked at me and recognized the eyes of her mother.

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