From the Astrology for Writers, Editors and Filmmakers,2006 Forecast!
Virgo: You’d benefit from a past life regression therapist. No joke, alot of your problems now can be viewed as leftovers from a past life. And there you are, feeling all spiritually attuned and thought you had the Universe figured out already…’06 brings big checks and stomach aches. Try the regression, what can it hurt?
I like the big checks part. And I actually like the taste of Pepto Bismol.
Anybody who hazards a guess about any aspect of my past lives will be entered in a drawing for a $10.00 gift certificate from Samhain Publishing/mybookstoreandmore.com! And since I’ve never undergone past life regression, there are no wrong answers. Have fun, be silly, and don’t forget my fear of chicken feet and my aversion to anything resting against/touching my neck. You know, among my other neuroses. :lmao:
You can post here in the comments or email me at shannonstacey at gmail dot com, and I’ll post your guess for you.
I’ll draw the name…Friday.
(And I have my settings a little strict because we’re in a high-volume spam cycle, so if your comment doesn’t appear, it’s just waiting for me to approve it.)
well the whole thing against your neck aversion would be due to the fact that you OBVIOUSLY were Marie Antoinette! *shudders* I imagine she’d hate anything against her neck in any of her following lives after that experience!
I’m not sure about the chicken foot thing…that’s just bizarre. Have you talked to Scott about it? He has something goin on with a rubber chicken. (I try not to ask about that either lol)
I have been regressed. I have experienced wild and vivid past lives while in a waking state, in a foreign country and later discovered even more–and made another trip!
My first published novel is a fictionalized account of my most “known” past life. “Love’s Second Sight.” The experience was also recounted in two issues of FATE Magazine a few years back.
You were a princess in a previous life.
Oooooh, a princess! Very cool!
Erin, I’d have never shared the cake. :rofl: And somehow it doesn’t surprise me Scott has a “rubber chicken thing” :noevil:
I’ve thought about have a regression done, because I have some very deep-seated issues that don’t seem to correlate to anything in this life, but I have a very deep-seated issue with people having access to my subconscious. I’ve done some reading on it, though. Interesting possibilites.
i think u were a man, in your past life. and u had a curse put on u by a witch. who was mad cause u chose her sister instead of her (she cursed u both) your wife drowned in a frozen pond right after your second year of marriage. a few years later u were hung for a crime u didn’t commit.:devil:
Since you are said to be suffering difficulties, I say that in a past life you were J. Bruce Ismay, Chairman of White Star Lines and owner of the RMS Titanic. If anyone has bad karma, it’d be him. He left thousands of women and children to die by leaping into a half-full lifeboat.
You were Joan of Arc in your previous life. You never had a chance to fall in love before you were wrongly put to death. This is why you will have lots of opportunities for love in this reincarnation.
In a past life you were the victim of a voodoo curse; hence the aversion of chicken feet. This also accounts for not liking anything touching your neck. Voodoo cursr involved pins stuck into your neck.
Marie Jeanne Becu! There you are, you naughty girl!
That distaste for chicken feet is a reminant of the distaste for the foul fowl that drove you away from the farm and a quiet life in the French country side. Back then, those nimble and creative fingers led you to work in a hat shop. That taste for big rewards led to romance and passion back then, too. You took a poor girl’s path to the top. Mistress to a dashing nobleman and a contrived marriage to his brother for an entre to Court, a daring and slightly kinky move, m’lady. While enjoying the highlife, you were introduced to a middle aged bonvivant who was in the market for a new mistress. You held his attentions until his death, making friends with your beauty and pleasant manners. Others were jealous of your position and the opportunities it offered; they made life dangerous, but exciting. All that stress is probably why you have a taste for relief…
After your lover’s death, you kept your social status and your many friends. Alas, your loyalty to your friends was your downfall. When the unthinkable happened, you did what you could. You were accused of aiding the enemies of the French State. An appointment with Madam la Guillontine is the reason for that neck nuerosis.
Ah, Du Barry, you were a lovely, naughty lady.
I think we all know what Shannon was in a previous life. We don’t even need words.
You must have been a chicken rustler who was caught and hung by a tall tree with the chicken feet made into a necklace. :nod: Yep, that must be it.
No, no, no. What are you people thinking?
Shannon was clearly a chicken seller at the foot of the guillotine. She had a sideline unpicking the hags’ knitting.
Or a High Priestess in the temple of Peck the Chicken God, condemned to forever wear high-class offerings of gold and silver chains round your slender white neck while kissing the feet of the two-hundred and thirty-seven chicken statues, ritually smeared with chicken dung for fertility.
Jaynie, are you implying that Shannon was a :penguin: were-penguin in a previous life? :lmao:
I guess that could be possible…since Jaci is haunted by those tuxedo wearing-weres. LOL
I truly believe Shan was a woman ninja, forced to disguise herself as a male ninja since woman warriors were not allowed in that era. Her secret missions always dealt with stealing back the sacred phallic symbols of her people, in which their enemies would steal so that Shan’s people could not worship them.Thus, they were unable to reproduce. Shan would have none of that so she donned the ninja garb and killed anyone who’s evil hands came in contact with her Sacred Shaft! :whip:
But then again, Penny could be right with that Chicken Wrangler theory! :lmao:
See, I DO lurk on the loops. I am just to busy and too darn lazy to reply to a digest if I have to erase all the extra crap!
BTW, HI, Shan! I am Kimberly B. Most people know me…and think I am crazy. I am Jaynie’s Evil Twin. :devil:
I guess you were Mary Stuart. That would explain your aversion of anything that touches your neck.
I could swear you were Woody Allen in a past life. Then again, he’s still alive.
Okay everyone it is clear that she was a chicken in a past life! One who was forced to mate with a sadistic rooster who like to claw her before copulation! When the rooster lost interest in her the farmers wife rang her neck plucked her feathers and fed her to the family for dinner!
Oh, Shan, 150 years ago you were strangled in your Louisanna mansion by a voodoo priestess. The chicken feet remind you of the black magic that paralyzed you so she could do the deed. The entire thing was a ritual to bring Shakespeare back to life, but it failed. Yet the writing energy that was purchased by this black deed stuck to your sole, er , soul.
Hmm, a past life experience. Afraid of chicken feet…you were a peasant who plucked chickens, whose feet back in the day were infested with disease and maggots. *cringe* A dislike of things on your neck, oh i don’t know, someone strangled you to death (or nearly to death)? Or maybe you had high, itchy collars on your dresses that drove you crazy!
*dusts off the chicken-foot studded diadem she’s been saving for years now*
Two lives ago, you were South American. One night, you drank too much tequila and later became the first human defeat in the history of cock fighting.
The battle was hard fought, but you were no match for the Bwakai Strike, a recently-banned maneuver wherein one fowl clamps its beak to the neck of its opponent and in a brutal display of sheer strength, slams them onto their back.
Naturally enough, last life, you were Colonel Sanders.
Scott’s rubber chicken was cloned some year ago. The mad scientist involved tried the procedure while doing the chicken dance and…well..it wasn’t pretty.
The poor rubber chicken died a horrible death but the past life of THE Shannon Stacey was formed.
When you were 17, you left the chicken ranch to become a Hollywood chicken trainer. Your crowing achievements were ‘Gone With The Fowl’, “Its a Chluckterful Life” and “Citizen Rooster”.
There was a scandal featuring your favorite rooster and a were-penguin and you retired in shame, only to form a chicken soup company.
:lmao: OMG, I can’t breathe over here. :lmao:
I’ve decided to give away two $10 gift certificates. One will be randomly drawn from everybody who responds, and one will be given to the favorite as chosen by a top-secret panel.
The chicken was just a red herring. I swear – she was a :penguin:
No, no, no! She was a ninja in a :penguin: suit, used to keep her undercover as she infiltrated the enemy camp. You see, the enemies all went to the circus to see the aquatic show and that is when she used her cleaver disguise to slip away unnoticed and sneak into the enemy camp.
NOTHING :rant: will come between Shan getting her people’s Sacred Shlong away from the enemy and back into the silken cave of her ancestors! The chicken’s foot was sent to scare here away, like they used the horse’s head in the GodFather movie. Little did they know, it did not scare Shan, it p*ssed her off :whip: , and she vowed she would either get that Prized Penis back or die trying!
Shan did not think it would be HARD to get the Famed Phallus back, that was until she met LongSchlong Kong. He was sent to kill her, but decided she was to sexy in that :penguin: suit and wanted to see if she would be slippery when wet.
Not only was she slippery, her secret ninja training made her VERY flexible. He knew he found his true love when she bent herself into a pretzel to lavish love upon the Kong family jewels.
Since Shan saved his gems from a long and lonely life, he promised to give the Shlong of Shanghi back to her if she became his concubine for life. Shan had to think long and HARD about this life -altering decision, but when she looked upon the King of the Kongs she had just topped-off with her eager mouth, she decided it was not such a bad deal.
Shan and Kong lived the rest of their lives happily together :nookie: in the mountains of Lusty Meadows, searching for Tantric treasures in the warm, dark caves of their mighty mountain. :cheer:
You werre hanged in a past life for stealing chickens lol
*looking into my lucky magic eight ball to see into Shannon’s past lives……….*
Wash chicken feet. Chop off toenails. Deep fry so they puff up and become light and fluffy. Dunk in secret recipe marinade. Steam for 15 minutes. Le Mei Ling had been doing the same thing in this seedy Hong Kong Yum Char restaurant, famous for its Fung-Jao (chicken feet), for 10 years, ever since her parents had moved there from Canton in Mainland China in 1890.
Two years later a major typhoon hit Kowloon while young Mei Ling was on a junk taking her to a neighbouring island and she was swept away to the murky depths of the South China Sea. *picture fades*
*vigorously shaking the magic eight ball until the fog clears once more…….*
Lady Jemina Heatherington-Smythe has her hands covering her neck and is running around the drawing room. “Mother! No!! Motheeeeeeeeeeeer!! How can you expect me to go to the ball with that horrible dead carcass around my neck!”
“Now dear…. EVERYONE knows that the dried body of a frog worn in a silk bag around your neck is the only thing that will avert one of your dreadful epileptic fits!!” said her mother as she tried to apprehend her wayward daughter. Jemina picked up her skirts and ran out the drawing room, through the front door and to the only place she could think of to find solace. The lake bordering the north of the English estate. Deep in the middle of winter, the lake was mostly frozen over and the picturesque sight would surely bring solace to her anxious heart. However, on her way there, she noticed that a band of Gypsies were illegally camped next to it and walked towards them out of curiousity.
A darkly handsome Romani man with a dried up chicken foot on a necklace walked up to her in an attempt to flirt with her for the hell of it. Oh no! Would he use that horrid foot as a tool of foreplay??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! She ran away in fright, slipping on the bank of the lake and onto a thin layer of cracked ice. So coooooolllllld….
*picture fades once again*
Ahhhhhhh so THAT’S why Shannon is so terrified of chicken feet, ice, anything touching her neck… etc etc etc
:lmao: OMG, the top-secret panel’s going to have its work cut out for it.
And Mo remembered the ice! :clap:
I love thinking about past lives as I’ve had someone tell me about some of mine… :neener: ok I will hazard a guess the thing about…chicken feet :wtf:. This stems from a past life as a medieval farmer’s daughter who had lots of chickens. You’d watch your father slaughter chickens for supper and he’d throw the feet into a huge compost pile. Your brothers were always playing tricks on you like scooping them up and tucking them under your quilts :lmao:. And once they snuck some chicken feet into your very bowl of cabbage stew :whip:! One day one of your brothers dropped you into the offensive pile of chicken feet and you promptly lost your ever livin mind :crazy:. The thing with aversion to anything against your cheek stems from this as well. You once woke up one morning with the offending chicken feet resting against your face :shock:. Courtesy of an adorable brother. This is why you’ve also never been able to trust a brother through the ages. :clap:
I see in another past life that you were one of Henry VIII’s wives so that would explain your aversion to anything near your cheek, neck etc. You were the spitfire headstrong miss Ann Boleyn. Poor thing he went off with her head.
Aha and another past life, I see you were kidnapped by a sheikh and brought to his harem. He had a merciless penchant for torturing with feathers (another reason you can’t stand chickens as they were chicken feathers). To punish you for not being in the mood and lusting after one of his wives instead… knowing your aversion to chicken feet and anything resting against your cheek, he tied you up spread eagled on the bed and proceeded to cover your body with chicken feet and made sure that many of them laid respectively against your cheeks. He even proceeded to molest you with the chicken feet which in itself should be punishable by law!
Oh my gosh is this nutty enough? :crazy:
LOL I’m just not that creative this late at night but I once took a class on self-hypnosis for past life regression–it was really interesting and it might solve your aversion to other folks getting into your subconscious :hide:
Hmmm, let’s see. :type:
Shannon, you had a great love affair in a past life. Your lithe, yet buxom form caught the attention of a wandering viking named Koen, who was captivated by your long, flowing hair and . . . er, other attributes. :love: You liked every inch of his . . . er, you liked his attributes as well. He wooed you slowly and gently, ensuring that your deflowering was everything you had hoped for and imagined.
He often commented that he especially loved it when it was swept up in a way that allowed locks of it to tickle the back of your neck. He would run his index finger along your neck and made you shiver (in a good way). :nod:
All was well for a while, and the sex was fabulous. :nookie: He treated you like a princess and made sure you had everything you wanted. :diva: Mostly, you simply wanted to be together
Then, I’m sorry to say another woman entered the picture. :shrug: She pursued your Viking lover so avidly that it was obvious and embarrassing. However, she would not be dissuaded. She tried to arrange compromising situations with him, but you were always there to prevent it. Furthermore, you vexed her by your suggestion for a menage a trois. :neener:
In the end, she couldn’t take it any more. She arranged your demise by distracting your lover :devil: and having you trampled to death by a group of deranged chickens. :crazy: This took some time, of course, but although you tried to hide, :hide: you were unable to escape the repeated patter of their feet.
Although things ended badly for you, you were very much mourned by Koen, who erected a statue in your honor. (Nothing else was erect for him after you died, not ever again.) He visited the statue on commemorative occasions, such as the anniversary of your first lovemaking, but he always said that the statue never quite captured the rapturous beauty and warmth of your neck.
The woman whose sadistic scheme ended your life did not escape, :whip: nor did the chickens who were the instruments of your death. The woman was forced to jump off a cliff, and the chickens were killed one by one on the anniversary of your death.
I’m sure your aversion to chicken feet is perfectly clear now, and you dislike anything against your neck because it reminds you of the sweet and passionate love that ended too soon.
[This past-life regression is brought to you by Alyssa.]
my name is shannon:woot::woot::cheer::cheer::clap::diva: