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Ever since I was a boy, I have longed to see the "rocky coast of Maine." I didn't know anything about Maine, but I always thought of it in those terms. I can't remember a time when I didn't feel that way, and I have fairly clear, consistent memories of my childhood going back to age three.

Today, I found out why. I took a late afternoon trip to Two Lights Park, on the coast of Cape Elizabeth. It's about a half-hour drive from where I live, in Portland.

There are no adjectives adequate to describe. This video (if you don't want to wait as long, you can click for low-res version--the high-res version will take longer to load) will give you an idea, but it can't fully capture the power and majesty of it, seen, heard and felt in person. I don't mean "feelings" (these I wouldn't attempt to describe, unless I was able to fashion a poem about it)--I mean, you can feel those ocean swells, which have travelled unimpeded across countless miles of ocean, suddenly smack against the unyielding rocks. You probably can't hear the rumbling, booming bass tones in the video, either. The entire spectrum of sound, from the lowest to the highest, is hitting you in a full frontal assault; and the sheer power of this broiling, frothing, leaping mass...there, I'm trying, but I can't express it. To give you a sense of scale, although I am a poor estimator of size, length, time, etc., I would estimate the first wave in the video to be about 25-30 feet tall.

These coastal scenes must have made so deep an impression on Mathew's mind and heart, that the longing to see them, again, actually surfaced in my own childhood, in the specific and articulate wish--not to see just any coastline, but to "see the rocky coast of Maine."

One would have to take a poll of children, to see how many of them have this secret wish, to find out how strong this is as evidence that I was once Mathew Franklin Whittier. I think it has its own weight. It neither proves the case in-and-of-itself, nor is it to be brushed aside lightly.

Such childhood indicators have been noted in other strong past-life cases, as well. I seem to remember that Angela Grubbs had one or two--one of them had to do with a car, or a rumble seat, which figured in the past-life flashbacks she had--and which she verified in the historical record, as an adult.

Mathew had a very sensitive, artistic temperament, though you wouldn't guess it from most of his writing. Occasionally he lets it show, and we wouldn't even have this much, if I hadn't uncovered his various pseudonyms. Somewhere he writes about the coast, and the fact that its power clearly reflects the power of God--but I can't seem to find that passage in my digital archives. Microsoft Word doesn't seem to let you search keywords in combination, as you can do online.

I just can't explain the overwhelming power and fascination that this scene had for me, today. I would say that I was experiencing it and appreciating it as Mathew did. Sometimes, when I am thinking of Mathew as a historical person, I look too far-afield for his subjective experiences and memories. I am still he, and they are all right here, close at hand.

I'm too exhausted to write a coherent blog, this evening. I probably should have waited until tomorrow morning, when I was fresher--but I just couldn't wait to share this.

Best regards,

Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.


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Music opening this page: "Concerto No. 2 for Piano and Orchestra in C Minor, Op. 18,"
by Sergei Rachmaninov, performed by Anna Fedorova



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