Past Lives – Atasha Fyfe, Hay House Basics
Past lives is attracting increasing interest. Unsurprisingly, it is also inspiring an increasing number of books on the subject as well . Sadly, the quality of the writing in those books all too often fails to do justice to the subject matter. Fortunately, Atasha Fyfe’s past experience as an English teacher and journalist makes her equal to the task, and her enthusiasm for her subject combines with that experience to create writing of clarity, and depth. Her book is introduced by early 20th century, and Ledbury born, Poet Laureate John Masefield, setting a literary standard which never falters with his ode to Past Lives “ A Creed”.
There is so much material to cover that the subject can become overwhelmed. Fyfe does a superb job in presenting her proposition in manageable , well titled paragraphs, laying out her beliefs, case studies, scientific theory, reference material, exercises and summaries in very accessible form. Now a Glastonbury resident, and a specialist in providing past life regression, she draws on the bohemian spirit of the area and subject while presenting it in pragmatic terms.
After explaining how regression works, she goes on to explore the clues all around us to past lives, childhood memories and the direct health, and indirect well-being, benefits of regression therapy. Fyfe never falls into the trap of trying to over-explain her subject, favouring simple, cogent exploration and explanation.
The front cover invites readers to “ discover and connect with past lives to create positive change”. Her work will appeal to the curious and seasoned veterans of past life exploration alike. The publisher should also take credit for eye-catching two colour, orange and white front and back cover artwork, and an internal layout which makes excellent use of bullet points, numbered summaries and italics. A little gem of a book, and a worthy companion piece to the subject.
For more information on Atasha Fyfe and her work, her website is: www.pastlivesglastonbury.co.uk
A Creed by John Masefield
I HOLD that when a person dies
His soul returns again to earth;
Arrayed in some new flesh-disguise
Another mother gives him birth.
With sturdier limbs and brighter brain
The old soul takes the road again.
Such is my own belief and trust;
This hand, this hand that holds the pen,
Has many a hundred times been dust
And turned, as dust, to dust again;
These eyes of mine have blinked and shown
In Thebes, in Troy, in Babylon.
All that I rightly think or do,
Or make, or spoil, or bless, or blast,
Is curse or blessing justly due
For sloth or effort in the past.
My life’s a statement of the sum
Of vice indulged, or overcome.
I know that in my lives to be
My sorry heart will ache and burn,
And worship, unavailingly,
The woman whom I used to spurn,
And shake to see another have
The love I spurned, the love she gave.
And I shall know, in angry words,
In gibes, and mocks, and many a tear,
A carrion flock of homing-birds,
The gibes and scorns I uttered here.
The brave word that I failed to speak
Will brand me dastard on the cheek.
And as I wander on the roads
I shall be helped and healed and blessed;
Dear words shall cheer and be as goads
To urge to heights before unguessed.
My road shall be the road I made;
All that I gave shall be repaid.
So shall I fight, so shall I tread,
In this long war beneath the stars;
So shall a glory wreathe my head,
So shall I faint and show the scars,
Until this case, this clogging mould,
Be smithied all to kingly gold.