Couer de Lion No More

Spending some time with the guy who reminded me of Richard over these last couple of evenings, I have some thoughts.

First, I can’t be sure he wasn’t Richard because he has a certain charisma, energy, lust for life, and idealism that are all traits Richard had. He brings these traits out in others the way Richard did too (last night I partied harder than I had in several years and by the end of the night, I was actually dancing which is rare for me). From my view he very well could have been the old Troubadour.

Now here’s the thing: If he was Richard, I don’t really care because I like him better as he is now, not saddled with the responsibility of being born to rule a kingdom. He’s happier to sing and dance and make his living as a performer on the weekends and a music teacher during the week. He’s not having to beat the living shit out of people just to keep their respect. He’s able to live openly with his boyfriend instead of keeping his sexuality a matter for the historians to debate.

If this is my brother from so long ago, he’s free and he’s happy and I love him as he is. He doesn’t have to be Couer de Lion any more.

That Tune Again!

A couple years ago I remarked on how I had heard the melody “Va Pensiero” come up often.

I hadn’t really noticed it much lately, until this evening when I was browsing a series of recordings by the band and bugles of the Third Battalion of the Light Infantry (the division formed by merging the KSLI with various other Light Infantry regiments in 1963).

This was one of the recordings:

Did that song have some significance to our regiment, I wonder?  Is that why it has stuck in my head for so long, haunting me as if it was a clue to something?

I need to look into this.

EDIT:  WHOA.  I was just showing this to my fiance and he asked what part of the Bible the plot of the opera “Nabucco” is adapted from and I replied that Nabucco was the Italian name for Nebuchadnezzar, who is mentioned in the Book of Daniel… then it hit me like a ton of bricks that I’d been having a lot of dreams and visions related to the Book of Daniel lately!  The threads come together in a bizarre way.

Off To Seattle Again

I’ll be off to Seattle to sign books again like I did about this time last year, spending time with many of the talented friends I’ve made over the years.

Very excited to go on this trip again!  Last year I left feeling like I was an integral part of a really unique community of brilliant people and I need to feel that again.

I just hope there’s no awkwardness with my friend who reminds me of Richard… I don’t want to make him into someone he’s not.  Luckily he was surprisingly cool with it when I told him about the feelings he brought out in me and I think just spending a little time with him might help cement him as the person he is and not the person he reminds me of.

Fortunately I think we’re going to be too busy for any centuries-old baggage to carry any weight.  I’ll travel light and expect nothing but a good time.

John or Jack?

I can’t believe I didn’t notice this sooner.

Going back through Philip K. Dick’s works, I discover that in at least two places he referred to himself as “Jack.”  In “Confessions of a Crap Artist,” he used the name Jack Isidore for his author avatar character.  He also wrote “Orpheus With Clay Feet” under the name “Jack Dowland,” which was a reference to the composer John Dowland.

Indeed, “Jack” is a nickname for John and it’s got me wondering if I wasn’t better known, during my earlier life, as Jack Harris and if Phil’s use of this name wasn’t somehow a residual memory.  It’s a long shot to say the least but it’s food for thought.

I really need to get back to reading his work to see if I can spot more instances of the name Jack.  Maybe this is just a fluke or maybe he was thinking of Dowland in both instances.

Still, “Jack” is a rather fitting name for a country boy from Somerset.  It’s trusty, strong, and unassuming.  That’s certainly how I would like to think I was back in those days.

Meanwhile In The Present…

Lately, a major development has been going on in my life which I would like to share here.

As I’ve briefly mentioned, I am transgender in this life- a strange stroke of fortune if there ever was one- and I am actively transitioning male to female.

So far it has gone about as well as one could reasonably expect, barring some disappointments with laser hair removal.  I’ve been on hormones now for more than 2 1/2 years, and I’ve had my name and ID legally changed to reflect my new status.

Now, I’m eyeing the final finishing touches: re-attempting hair removal and taking that final, certain step to ensure that I will live the rest of this present life irreversibly as a woman.  I am referring, of course, to full genital surgery.  I’ve been thinking about it now for the better part of three years and I have not, in all this time, soured on the idea.

I have obtained the two required letters- one from an attending physician and one from a board-certified psychologist with whom I have a working relationship.  She is aware of my past life claims and we have talked at length about my memories and how they have shaped my view of the world.

Today I made arrangements for a local clinic to refer me via the Oregon Health Plan to a doctor for consultation.  Whether or not I choose to go through with this operation will depend largely on the skill and experience of whatever doctors are made available to me through the state health plan.  I am aware of the risks and I will not take any cavalier chances on a doctor whom I suspect may turn out to be a butcher; better to live my life hiding male parts and still able to enjoy that life to some lesser degree than to be taken in by a bad surgeon and live the nightmare of severe complications.

Only the prospect of complications scares me; if I could go into the operating theater with a 100% guarantee of a favorable outcome I would not hesitate and I would not be the least bit deterred by the permanence of the change.  My body has already undergone permanent changes on HRT; I am past the point where things like sterility and breast growth would be likely to reverse themselves if I were to stop HRT.  The process of chemical feminization has done nothing in its due course but heighten my enjoyment of life that much more; I don’t anticipate that a successful operation will be anything but an improvement to that end.

This blog may be largely about the highs and lows in my past lives but in my present life, I have been overall very fortunate.  Transitioning male to female has taught me so much about life, love, gender, sex, philosophy, religion, and even about myself and I hope that the lessons I have learned will stay with me until such time as I can transcend the cycle of reincarnation altogether and become reunited with pleroma.

Until then, I will move forward with what the wheel has spun: to be born a man and die a woman.  I will accept this as my destiny gladly and with joy in my heart.

Hottest Lead In Years

On January 6, 2014 (the Feast of the Epiphany, of all days!) I made this post in which I mentioned one of my possible memories from Phil’s life:

I remember a large, short-furred dog (possibly a labrador) that either lived at or visited the house where I lived until 1972. This was not my dog but someone else’s. had previously asked the person I confirmed my earlier memories with, but she was unsure of this memory.

Last night, after sitting on it for a couple of months, I dug out my copy of “The Search For Philip K. Dick” by Anne Dick and started reading again.  I had previously put it away after reading up to the part where Phil’s marriage to Anne had disintegrated and he was living in Oakland with a worsening drug problem.

I read through his San Rafael years last night and I was astonished to discover that there was indeed a black lab that lived at the house in San Rafael!

Once again, this proves nothing.  A black lab is a very common breed… but it really got my attention and brings my earlier claims back to plausibility.

As an aside, there is no mention whatsoever of Kathy Demuelle in Anne’s book… I thought it was strange because she was one of Phil’s biggest crushes (I even remembered the car she drove, a little red Nova).  I even checked the index but she’s not there.  Very odd.

Not Sure What To Make of This

On the one hand, I still haven’t completely given up on the prospect of having been Philip K. Dick in my last life.  The semblances in personality are pretty uncanny, as I’ve prattled on at length about over the last two and a half years.

Lately though, I’ve been getting flashes of another life in England that I believe may have ended some time between 1940 and 1955.  Very brief ones, and only two so far, both featuring a beautiful woman.  I believe I was a man of some means, refined, passionate, and suave, but died in my prime.

This is problematic because this is an awful lot like one of the characters from my most recently published book.  I’m reluctant to believe anything that too closely resembles the suave, dapper, debonair mid-century British aerospace engineer I conceived in my book, who was born in 1901 and has a vision in 1946 that reveals that he will die in 1957 (a bit longer than the life I keep seeing, but only by about 14 years).  On the other hand, the character was so convincingly written that I may well have been drawing from a deeper well of personal experience.

Maybe it’s nothing.  The woman I saw looked a little too much like some fantasy from a Hollywood movie, wearing this sleek 40s high fashion dress and coming out of the fog as I listened to Jussi Bjorling’s rendition of “Nessun Dorma” from Puccini’s Turandot, a song that could very well have been the soundtrack of a Hollywood movie.

None of this has the feel of verisimilitude I got when I tried on Phil as a past life identity.  It feels like the creation of my own romantic mind, and not the sad, painfully ordinary and constantly fearful man I saw myself as, peering fearfully through blinds at unmarked cop cars in the early 70s.  There was nothing romantic about being Phil as I remembered it, and anything that smacks of more romance than the life of an impoverished writer- the only reality I’ve known in my present adult life- seems both presumptuous and wishful thinking.

About the only reason I have to give this latest flash of the 20th century the benefit of the doubt is because I hadn’t actually been trying to dig up past life memories lately.  I felt like I was trying too hard and I had walked away from it.  This flash was spontaneous and unexpected.  Still, something about it doesn’t pass the smell test.


The experiences I have had both within today’s service and afterward with some church members was beyond words.

Not only did today’s mass light up something in both myself and my fiance (who was greatly moved today) but afterward, I was invited to take part in an exercise of high ritual magic at one of the priest’s homes.  While this particular church does not have any official practice to that end, there’s nothing in the church’s beliefs that says we can’t.

I have achieved a high today that I thought impossible without mind-altering substances.  In some respects, it’s better.  I am stimulated in body and mind in a way that I have never been stimulated before.  I am sober as the day I was born but I am drunk on the Logos!  Thomas 28 makes so much more sense to me now.

I understand so many things from the Bible and from the broader tradition of esoteric practice that were just words to me before.  These feelings from the more spiritual, prophetic, and non-dogmatic parts of the Word have begun to reveal themselves to me in ways that I can scarcely begin to describe.  I have come to an endless spring that bubbles over, and I have drank my fill and there is still more, overflowing and boundless!

I was unsure about my future as a Gnostic Christian but if it’s still this good in a year then I am devoting my life to this path fully.


I heard back from my father.  It seems we did go to the Old Sheldon Church after all, some time between 1989 and 1992 most likely.

Quite why something inconsequential from 25 years ago would suddenly appear in my dreams twice is beyond me.  But the natural conclusion here is that this is indeed a childhood memory.

Old Sheldon Church

A few nights ago, I had a dream about a brick colonnaded building.  It was very richly appointed, and I think it was built by a rich family.  It had a roof and doors in my dream.

It looked an awful lot like the ruins of the Old Sheldon Church in Yemasee, South Carolina:

Some months before that, I had a dream that I was in a large cemetery- a necropolis, really- of large old-fashioned above-ground tombs with heavy shade from large oak trees.

Yep, you guessed it, Old Sheldon Church Again!

Now here’s the bizarre thing: even though I grew up in the South Carolina lowcountry, I don’t recall ever going to the Old Sheldon Church.  I stumbled on the image tonight by accident while looking for photos of Old Fort Dorchester which I went to often as a child, but this one eludes me.  I simply can’t remember if I’ve been there or not.  But what I can say is that it was in my dream, and that it had a roof even though this particular church has been a ruin since the Civil War.

Perhaps it’s nothing.  I’ve e-mailed my father to ask if I’ve ever been to these ruins as a child.