Click here for an alternate link to Kim's session with my uncle.
Once again I am waking in the wee hours of the morning to sneak in some quiet time on the computer. I love my daughter dearly but she is a chatter box. She is proficient at making noise...lots of it. There is the constant, "Mom...Mom! Look at this!" and singing, and musical instruments that don't always sound musical from 7-year-old fingers, complaining about Mahina as if she were a human sibling, etc. I would miss it all if she weren't around, but for the sake of concentration for composing this blog post, I sacrifice sleep.
I recently asked gifted medium, Kim Babcock to give a voice to my uncle. You may choose to listen to what my uncle had to say through Kim, or you may choose to read the blog post and then listen. Some of what I am about to talk about I told Kim about to give her validations and confirmations about what my Uncle said.
|Lyndell from when he was in the military.|
On November 4, 2015, my Uncle Lyndell Horatio died. He was 73. Some might say that making it to 73 wasn't so bad, but Lyndell wasn't like other people. He spent the majority of his adult life as a prisoner inside his own head. He was a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic. His case was severe and he didn't really communicate unless he was asked a question. He couldn't ever function well enough to live on his own. He needed people to remind him to do simple things like drink more water and have a bath and take his medications. The medications helped dull the voices he always heard in his head, but the medications caused a host of other health problems along the way. I always felt bad for my uncle and wished there was something I could do help him.
|The front side of the old farmhouse|
|This is the back side of the farmhouse.|
|Lyndell and Mom in front of the old farmhouse.|
My mom and uncle grew up in a remote area of Northern Missouri. They lived on a 200 acre family farm that had been passed on from my Grandmother's father after she married. My grandmother had been born in that house. The school they went to initially was a one room school house with a handful of kids. Grandfather would later eventually move the old school house to the property and turned it into a garage. He was resourceful. For as long as the house stood, they never had running water and going to visit my grandparents and uncle was like stepping backwards in time. I remember hoping and praying I wouldn't have to use the outhouse at night. You had to go out the back door, past the chicken coop and there it was...rickety and smelly...two holes cut out for where you would relieve yourself. For some reason that terrified me, but the stench of the taking off the lid of the chamber pot scared me more at times. lol I remember sometimes sitting on my uncle's lap and playing with him. He wasn't as far removed mentally back then.
|This was the original barn but there were other barns that would be built for the storage of grain and farm equipment.|
|Great Grandfather on the farm with some of the horses.|
They were hard workers and every Sunday they would traverse the dirt road to get to the main road so they could all go to church. It was a quiet life. It was a hard life. It was an isolated life. My mom married at the age of 18 because she was desperate to leave the isolation of the farm. Lyndell spent time in the military and came home. Lyndell was very intelligent and mathematically inclined. For a while he was able to hold a job and function somewhat normally. I am not sure he ever had friends. He liked a girl when he was in grade school. He bought her earrings and she rejected them...and him. He would never attempt to pursue a girl after that. Lyndell was a very sensitive soul and he withdrew a little further into himself that day. He liked doing jigsaw puzzles and collecting rocks. He collected lots of rocks. It was a bit odd, but I like rocks too...I just wasn't allowed to bring them all home with me the way Lyndell did.
|Me and my Grandma at the old farmhouse. 1974|
|Lyndell, Grandfather and Grandmother|
My mom says there are several members of the family who were bipolar. When you listen to the recording from Kim Babcock, you will understand why I find this information interesting. There were at least 3 family members who committed suicide but she says those were based more in the physical pain they felt they could no longer endure.
I once read an article which links schizophrenia to a virus. The article mentions that many of the people affected were born in the spring. My uncle was born in March. My best friend's aunt is also schizophrenic and was also born in the spring which was an interesting fact. http://discovermagazine.com/2010/jun/03-the-insanity-virus
There is a lot of evidence coming forward that proves that trauma suffered is passed on from generation to generation genetically.
I have always known this because before I believed in literal reincarnation of the soul, I believed simply in genetic reincarnation where strong emotion memories were passed on from generation to generation. I now believe fully in both forms of reincarnation. What I wonder about is what genetic memories are being passed on and on in my family that are causing some of the issues we are seeing? Many of my maternal family members can be described as "extremely sensitive." I appreciate what Lyndell said through Kim, but what I wonder is if we have had a long line of family members who were meant to be healers but because of society, small minds and judgments, they repressed the abilities that are inherent in all of us. Some people are a little bit more plugged in and wired to communicate with both the physical and non-physical world. Were my ancestors repressed long ago and now that trauma is showing up as mental illness in the generations that follow?
This is an article about a shaman visiting people in a mental institution and what he saw and said. I think it is an interesting idea to research further. http://themindunleashed.org/2014/08/shaman-sees-mental-hospital.html
Maybe my ancestral genes are begging me to step into who my family before me never could feel free to be. Maybe through me and through my daughter we can heal the trauma that has been passed on and on.
My daughter sometimes hears voices. She sometimes sees people. She isn't mentally ill. She simply is able to see and hear the non-physical people who are around all of us all the time.
As much as I love my Uncle Lyndell, I am happy his suffering has finally come to an end. He is finally free of his prison. And from the other side, he can finally have a voice again. Kim mentioned possibly doing a second recording and, should that happen, I will update this blog post to add it here.