Back in October 2022, after waking during the night and unable to get back to sleep, I had a very clear image come into my mind. It was of an early human crossing a river in a forest. Simultaneously another vision, superimposed on it, was a view of the car-park in Asda's supermarket in Chandler's Ford near Winchester (why Chandler’s Ford, I don’t know, except that a ford was to enable carts to drive through a narrow river).
The two visions were of separate times, yet they inhabited the same space, as though the river was the road through the car-park. To the early hominid, the forest beyond the river was her supermarket. Just as I was about to step onto that road, to head towards the building, the early human stepped into the river, wading across it to reach the woods beyond. We both, me in my time and she in hers, had the same intention: survival/going to get food supplies. There was no real separation between us. We were both inhabiting the same space, but in different times. Yet I knew we were also in a simultaneous time.
There was a feeling of cycles in this vision: that we modern humans had evolved from these early hominids and that one day we would become them again, in another cycle of earth life.
I was also aware that our basic instinctual needs had not changed, only the manner in which we fulfilled them. I could go to the supermarket; she, to the jungle.
I was a direct descendent of this early woman, and her DNA still sang in my bones, in my blood. I still knew how to survive, thanks to her skills, albeit in a way she would never understand. The following morning, the vision remained, weaving its way through my thoughts, and I wondered why it had come now. Why did I need to know this? I have a feeling I needed to be grateful to her for what she gave me, her descendent, and that I survive because of it.
I had fogotten all aobut this experience, when, nearly two years later, she came through again. A psychic bleedthrough.
13th April 25
I was in the shower, when I became aware that my arms seemed elongated, more simian-like. Initially I thought it was my imagination but then I thought, ‘Go with the experience, Ann. Let it flow.’ I opened myself up - which feels like I am expanding my consciousness - and then I became aware of an ancient human, prehuman, really, and the image I was seeing in my mind reminded me of Australopithecus, like Lucy. I felt the cells in her body, but they were also the cells in my body. My memories were her memories. I began to see her life. Trees were important, they were her home. She slept in them, laying against their trunks, eating their fruit. I wondered if this was a past-life self, or a cellular memory?
I saw myself covered in hair, my arms long for climbing trees easily. My body was long but my legs were short. I wasn’t as upright as I am now, but I walked with a slight forward stoop. I was eating a piece of very juicy fruit, but I was also aware that I ate fish. I would sit on the river bank, unmoving, waiting, holding my hands in the water until a fish slowly swam near them. I had infinite patience. There was no rush. When the fish came close enough, often swimming right through my waiting hands, I would scoop it out fast and toss it onto the grass. With a blunt object, a crudely crafted piece of branch I could grasp in my hand, I quickly knocked the flapping fish on the head to kill it. I had an awareness of the fish and its life force and I did not want to cause it any more pain than I needed to. Yet, I was hungry. We had respect for life and for the life of the other creatures we ate, mainly fish. Otherwise it was roots, nuts, berries and fruit.
There was an awarenss of the abundance of food where we lived, and our little group lived well. There was never a shortage. We knew where each thing grew, and when it was available. There was a sense of trusting that what we needed would be there. Our group lived well because of that knowledge.
I was aware of predators, mainly big cats, but we knew how to get to the safety of the trees. I felt the danger in my body, a physical sensing of the intent of the lion, or big cat, who was hungry. I could feel it even if it was some distance away, as though my body was an antenna. When the group felt the danger, they raised the alarm, screeching from high in the trees so the others, who might have been too far away to feel the danger, could hear us and run to safety.
During the hot midday sun, I laid in the shade, completely relaxed in my treetop dwelling, or dozed against the trunk. My bed in the treetops looked like a squirrel’s drey. My life was one of eating, sleeping, mating, exploring. I enjoyed my body. I felt at home in it. I am very aware, from my modern perspective, of just how easy and contented that life was. It was relaxed, until danger was sensed. But nothing much ever happened. We simply existed, trusting, enjoying our environment. We were a gentle people, quiet and quietly loving.
Often, our group, which consisted of family relations, went for long walks. We walked because we loved exploring and in so doing found other sources of food. There was always danger to be aware of, but the need to explore often overode the need for safety. We knew how to take care of each other. We were an inquisitive group and wanted to see what else was out there. So long as there were trees nearby, and we could run, we were safe.
Sometimes we could be gone for a long time, and when we came back, another group might have taken over the area we once occupied. When that happened, we simply found another. We knew there were plenty of other areas. We explored, so we knew. Knowing there was always food and fish and water, we would leave them peace and go on our way. We did not have to worry.
This is the lesson, I feel, she is trying to teach me now. Not to worry about losing something. Trusting in our own sense of safety in the world. Trusting in the body. Trusting the environment. Trusting the body’s innate ability to survive and enjoy life. And not to worry about losing to other people. There is always more.
I recognise her in me. The need to explore, to find sources of food, to always explore a new environment. I know where to find the sloes, where the wild garlic grows, where the juniper bushes are plentiful in autumn. No matter where I live, I want to know my new environment. Is it her knowledge in my cells? Is my DNA her DNA? I know I am her and at the same time, I am myself. Yet, she is in me.
Later, driving to my father’s, I am still aware of my arms being long and apelike. I am still feeling her existence within me and also very aware of feeling my creaturehood, that early human as part of my being. Is she a past(?) life, sharing her experiences with me through my cells? A bleedthrough of consciousness? I was tapping into her timeline in the present, while simultaneously knowing she was historically millions of years behind me. Still, here she was, in me now.
Cooking breakfast, I was aware of all my lives being NOW, all present at once, and yet I also sensed the human timeline of past, present and future. The two awarenesses at once.
After both of these experiences, I only have to think of her and I am re-calling her. I am one with her. Her survival skills are also mine. At least I ‘remember’ them in my body. The nicest part is the complete trust that my body feels as her. She knows that her needs will be met and that life is there to be enjoyed. There are no beliefs to tell me otherwise. My physical body is my vehicle to that enjoyment. So, as it is nearly Easter, in my time, I am going to follow her example and maybe find a tree to sit against, to enjoy a my life pleasure: a chocolate egg.
I don’t, after all, have lions to worry about.