Frequency with Clovistia
12th Dimensional Star being, Clovistia, channels knowledge and wisdom through Host Grace Star, her human counterpart, on this riveting weekly podcast that jumps into spirituality at its essence. From the ancient times to present there is frequency for all to share. Grace Star shares her near death experience and past lives that share relevance with the channeled information from her own experiences, and Co-Host Dr. Kathryn Leeman helps guide the path. Can we heal this planet by adjusting the toxic frequency to a healing frequency? Clovistia is here on this planet to attempt exactly that. Stop by and join the journey, spiritual warriors needed!
Frequency with Clovistia
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Executive Producer: Grace Star
Producer: Charlie Garcia
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Welcome to Frequency with Clovisstia. I'm your host, Grace Starr, and my co-host is Dr Katherine Lehman. For reasons I don't fully understand, I have been asked to share channeled information and wisdom from my 12th dimensional star self named Clovisstia. I'm not sure where this journey will take us, but as we begin, I ask you to join me.
Speaker 2:Hi, I'm your host, grace Starr. As you all know, we are having a past life marathon of all of my past lives. We're taking a little bit of a break here from Clovisdia channeling to us and we're just enjoying my past lives. So sit back and relax. I hope you enjoy it. Scotland, 1812.
Speaker 2:This was my very first past life regression. It was a day of surprises and learning about the past and myself. It all began months ahead of time. I was in a blind panic about my two boys and I was furious with other family members, so let me tell you what was happening. Over the course of several months, I had started having a panic attack regarding where my boys were located at during any moment of the day. I have two boys that are 17 months apart to the day.
Speaker 2:At this time of my life, one of my boys was five and a half and the other was about seven. I was generally feeling uneasy whenever they were not around me, but it all came to a head one night when my parents invited them out to the local fair for an evening of games, fun and rides. It should have been like any other normal night, but this night would be different. We didn't have cell phones at that time. This is back in the 90s. As soon as they left and they had been gone for maybe half an hour or so, I panicked that the boys were not home. I didn't know where they were at. It was the first time that I had an actual fully-blown panic attack. My palms were sweaty, I had creepy crawlies all over me, I couldn't think straight and I didn't know what was happening to me. These were brand new feelings and emotions and they were out of control. Looking back, it was such a strange experience because they were with people that I totally trusted my parents, who lived next door. I knew the boys were having a really great time and had no idea what was going on inside of my head. The only thing that I could do was wait for their return, and it felt like an eternity as I paced around my bedroom as the next few hours dragged on, nothing I did resolved my panic. I was still going at full force when the doorbell rang and they all arrived back home again. After they returned I was so elated to see them them all. You would have thought that I won the lottery.
Speaker 2:The emotional release was huge and I was exhausted the following day when I sent them to school, the panic began to set in as the school bus drove away in the distance. Oh no, my mouth was becoming dry, my palms started sweating. My mind started to swirl. I had to stop them from getting harmed. And this panic attack began to overwhelm me as the school bus got to the end of the road and turned towards the school. School bus got to the end of the road and turned towards the school. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, some snacks and a book to read. I got in my car. I drove down to the boys' school like a mad hatter's ride as I raced to catch the bus. I parked down the street and watched the bus arrive. The boys were safe and sound. I took a deep breath as they jumped out of the bus and sprinted to their classes. They never saw me. I sat there the entire day until they came out at the end, got back in the bus and drove away. I quickly started my car and raced in a different direction home, so that I could arrive before the bus, run in the house, set down my stuff, turn around and walk out the front door to greet them just as if I had been there all along. This would be my new normal.
Speaker 2:Every day I would be in a panic when I was not with the boys until I arrived at my parking spot near the school. But being close to them was beginning to be a mental bandage. I needed help and I needed it fast. This is not a topic you can talk about with just anyone. I needed to find someone who would not think I was crazy.
Speaker 2:Initially I thought it was hormones or maybe I was pregnant, but that was not the case. I wanted this panic to go away, but no amount of wishing seemed to work. My husband had no patience for it and wanted me to go to a psychiatrist, thinking I was losing it. He really had no idea how bad the situation really was, because he didn't know that I was staking out to school all day long and I had recently started waking up in the middle of the night to go check on the boys to make sure that they were still breathing. I wasn't entirely sure what was wrong or that my husband was wrong thinking it. Something big was happening to me, and I did not know what it meant or how to treat it.
Speaker 2:But it was becoming very familiar to me, these panic attacks. I knew how they felt, when they were coming and how long the worst part would last. I looked at my sweaty palms. I looked at my fingers clenching and unclenching. It did nothing to relieve my fears or settle me down, and I always could feel the creepy crawlies running up and down my spine. The depth that my mind was dragging me was scary, like a dark well. It was becoming very hard to pull myself out of the panic by dinner. Each night. It was soon becoming impossible, impossible, and the attacks started to join together in one long attack that would last for hours longer.
Speaker 2:Once I was home, I had to admit that anything that I tried was not working. Time after time, I would try something new, only to end up waiting in front of the school again. Each day, gloom descended over my life and it became a series of ups and downs. I was told that I was clinically depressed by someone who said that they themselves were clinically depressed. I needed a support system that I did not have someone to take me seriously and to not just assume that I was a nutcase. I needed a diagnosis of sorts. Prayer did not work at all. In fact, no amount of prayer seemed to have any effect. I was becoming more and more alone as my panic for my boys was growing each day. I soon began praying to God to keep my boys alive. Each day. It seemed like the only thing that I could do, and since they did continue to live, it reinforced in my mind that prayer worked, at least for the boys but me. I was sinking.
Speaker 2:One day, out of nowhere I received a referral to a spiritual therapist. Her name was Dr Catherine Lehman. I looked at my phone for days before I picked it up to dial her number. The anxiety problem had been going on for about two months with no end in sight. I thought I had nothing to lose and I called her number to look for a holistic solution to my growing out-of-control problem. As the phone rang, I tried to find the words to describe my problem. As I prepared to leave a message for Catherine, finding just the right words was eluding me. I wanted to sound like I was in control of an out-of-control situation, of an out-of-control situation. As the phone rang, I searched for words, but suddenly she answered the phone right away with a cheerful hello. I was relieved when she answered, but I was not in a happy mood and from the sound of my voice she knew I needed to see her as soon as possible. What is going on, dear? She asked calmly. Can I have your next appointment please? I mumbled out. I didn't bother to ask how long the session would be or how much it would cost. I didn't really care. I just wanted an appointment quickly. I was praying that she would be the lifeline that I needed. Her voice seemed to be smiling as she said I can see you tomorrow. Good, I thought I can last 24 hours. I can make it. I jotted down the address, which was about 30 minutes away. I walked back into the family room and saw the boys outside playing a game.
Speaker 2:I had become so tired in the past few weeks. I wanted to take a nap so badly, but I didn't dare take my attention off of them for a moment. Time was slowly passing by and tomorrow seemed like an eternity. The moments and hours dragged by when I finally got into bed late that night. I was so tired, but sleep did not come easy and I tossed and turned most of the night, most of the night. As the sun rose across a pink sky, I had the unsettling feeling of foreboding.
Speaker 2:Today I would have to leave my parking spot by the school in order to go seek help Brushing my hair. I looked at my weary face in the mirror. I felt older than I was, but definitely I was getting too old for this problem to be in my life. I kept telling myself snap out of it, girl. For weeks, with no effect. The sound of the school bus brakes snapped me back to reality. School bus brakes snapped me back to reality. It was time for the boys to leave for school. I gave them each an unusually long hug, goodbye. As they left the house. They eagerly jumped onto the bus and ran down the aisle to join their friends. Fortunately, they had no idea of the turmoil that I was fighting with. They would have another day at school, but I needed to gather my wits and head down for my appointment. That was her first appointment of the day.
Speaker 2:I sat in the parking lot looking at the front door as I read her name. Dr Catherine Lehman had a PhD in metaphysical and holistic healing. I thought what have I gotten myself into? I had no idea what today would bring. This was not a regular doctor appointment, so likely. I would not have a physical or medical history to deal with. I would not have a physical or medical history to deal with.
Speaker 2:I finally pulled myself out of the car, tried to have a good attitude and headed for the door. A smiling, cheerful woman about my age greeted me at the door and invited me in. I was openly nervous as I sat down in a big blue easy chair. What is going on? Tell me everything. She said in a voice that begged me to be totally honest and open. I appreciated that she was good at listening and she sat quietly as I shared the anxiety and panic of losing my boys and how it had altered my life in a very negative way. If I had my choice, I would lock everyone inside and never let anyone out, ever again. She smiled and said that is a bit extreme, but I understand how you're feeling. Would you be open to a past life regression? It is spiritual therapy.
Speaker 2:I mumbled past life, another life, a different life than this one. She smiled and she said yes. I thought, oh my goodness, I'm desperate enough to try anything. Yes, I agree. Catherine smiled and said I'm going to guide you through a meditation. So lie back and relax, take some deep breaths and follow my voice. I did as she asked, and got comfortable in the big blue chair which seemed to wrap its arms around me. I squeezed the chair arm and relaxed, closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. Relax your mind and let's go to the time and place that you need to go to find help, she said softly.
Speaker 2:My mind began to soon drift and I was moving. It felt like a dark, foggy night in my mind as we drifted and then we stopped. I became aware that I was standing in front of a big wooden door that was slowly opening. I was nervous. This was my first official past life regression or experience. I blinked my eyes in anticipation of what was on the other side of the door as it slowly opened in front of me. I found myself stepping into the doorway and as I did, I felt like I was putting on a different body. It was heavy, like my body was out of shape. I felt my sides and I was big. I let Catherine know that I was standing in a door. Who are you, she asked. I gave a little cough and then a big, booming voice came out of me I am William. It hurt me to talk, as if the voice would rip my chest into two pieces. Where are you, william? Catherine asked. Isle of Skye, 1812.
Speaker 2:As I became this person, I could see through his eyes as I looked around the room, but it was hard to even understand myself. His accent was so heavy. He was a big man, a big, barrel-chested Scotsman. I was becoming him and I referred to myself as a Scot, but the use of words and accent were nearly impossible for me. I asked Catherine, what should I do? She said please step out of his body and just tell me the story that you want to share. So I stepped out and the information came flooding in my house, a cottage on a small hill outside of town, my countryside, scotland, isle of Skye. He loved it all and was proud of his ancestry, my brother George. We were twins. He felt like he was standing right there.
Speaker 2:My wife, I blurted out, she cows me and she makes me angry. I realized that she was small but she was a bully and she bullied him often and he referred to bullying as cowing like a dog would make a cow walk in a straight line for fear of getting a bite. Boy, can she bite with her sharp tongue? I thought I saw her immediately, her angry face, yelling at me with her hands on her hips. I kept my hands in my pockets mostly. I tried to imagine that her words were like water and I was a duck, so it would not sting so badly. She enjoyed yelling at me entirely too much and always needed everything to be her way. I realized that he was so sad. No love here. But he was loyal to his boys.
Speaker 2:I thought of his boys, my boys. They are in my mind's eye like shining stars, standing there grinning ear to ear with arms over each other's shoulders Rascals. They are my lovable, blessed rascals. He loves them and is protective of them. His wife often tries to manage the boys, but they are a challenge. It causes him to grin. I, as myself, recognized the boys immediately. These two are my boys. In my current life I could feel the energy. I recognized them, but in my life the boys are one older and one younger, but in this life it is the opposite. So my current youngest is the oldest in this life and vice versa. He gushes love and showers on the boys, which is something that I do with my own boys Beautiful, unconditional love.
Speaker 2:I am drifting the next moment of focus. I have moved forward in time for a few weeks. It is a dreary day. Later afternoon I am feeling more and more like him. I have just finished work. I do some sort of manual labor, maybe mining. I have tools, heavy gloves and work attire, an older, big, heavy brown leather jacket. I am walking home. I am physically exhausted. I don't own a car or horse. I am living a modest life without many extras.
Speaker 2:As I walk towards the edge of town, headed home, I hear yelling and I see people running past me in the same direction that I'm going. My brother runs up from behind and hits me hard on the back, yelling run man, your house is on fire. As he runs past, my reaction is in slow motion. I yell meaningless words of panic that droll out of my mouth and are lost in the wind mouth and are lost in the wind. I jog forward and join the crowd running past. I am in disbelief. It can't be my house. What kind of a bad joke is this? This cannot be happening. And I shake my head. But I continue jogging with the crowd and get to the end of the street, to turn left and there on the small hill is my house and it in fact is on fire. Black smoke billows upwards into the low clouds from the top of the house.
Speaker 2:In the attic I throw everything down that I'm carrying, take off my coat, throwing it onto the ground as well, and I run as fast as I am physically able to for my size and age. I yell for everyone to come and grab buckets. I am not a fast man and today I am worse. My limbs don't seem to want to go fast like I am bogged down, seem to want to go fast like I am bogged down. But I run up the road on the small hill to my house. My wife is inside and I meet her as I run in the back door.
Speaker 2:Get out of the house. I yell at her. Where are the boys? I demand. I don't know. She screams with panic, waving her arms around as I enter the main room of the house.
Speaker 2:We don't have stoves or anything. We have a big fireplace called a hearth that we cook inside of. It is like a fireplace, but big enough for me to walk into, with different types of ways to cook meat and other food. It is tall and deep, like a giant fireplace. I expect that something big is burning in the hearth of the small house, but I realize that the hearth is not the source of the smoke. The room is filled with smoke from the opening in the stairs that lead to the loft in the attic. It is billowing down in huge black clouds. I can hardly breathe.
Speaker 2:I put my arm over my nose and run up the stairs. At the top step I run into a wall of fire and smoke like a blast from a huge furnace. I am pushed back down the step. There is a loud crash as the main beam caves in and I can see the sky. My brother is grabbing my arm. William, it's too late, come with me, man. William, I push him off. I would rather die. Just let me go. I push back up into the heat. My arms are burned and I'm calling out their names over and over and over again. But silence, black smoke, flames and more silence. Black smoke, flames and more silence. The sound of crackling wood fills my ears. I cannot move forward because I cannot hear or see anything. A huge burning beam has fallen across the floor. I blink my eyes, soot is covering my face. My two little hearts are gone. It is too late. Just like George, my brother said, I sit down on the top step expecting the house to come down on me. I take a deep breath of smoke. I don't care. This life is over for me. This life is over for me. I am experiencing the heat of the fire and smoke In a brief moment in time.
Speaker 2:I look around but my brother, relatives and friends come and drag me outside. They sit me by my wife, thinking that I will be looking for her. But I am not. It is all her fault. I hate her. The sight of her makes me want to draw my sword and end it all. She had one job and she has failed at it. One single job. I wail like an old, dying hound dog, yelling into what seems like night because the smoke is so dense. The house is completely up in smoke and flames. I sit and watch as it shrinks down lower and lower through the night. It burns on. Then it is only embers. Everything is gone. Then it is only embers. Everything is gone. Everyone is gone. I own nothing but what is on my back. I slip into a catatonic state. I simply sit and stare at the pile.
Speaker 2:Days later, I am in the same place, looking at the same thing, as if my presence will change something, as if I refuse to acknowledge what has happened. The truth will not be the truth. Weeks pass and I am still here. My brother brings me word that there is a ship leaving for the Americas in a few days. There is a ship leaving for the Americas in a few days. He has purchased passage on it for me and my wife. He thinks that if I do not leave now I will simply die under this tree. I am refusing to eat or drink and I'm losing my muscle tone and I'm actually shrinking in size. I look around and my shrew of a wife is right there yelling at me that if I was home I could have saved them blaming me, completely destroying whatever is left of my sanity.
Speaker 2:I continue to sit under this tree For how long I actually don't know, but I am still here until the day that we need to board the ship to depart. My brother comes and helps me onto the ship. I stagger over to the railing, find a barrel and sit on this location for the duration of the voyage. I'm thinking with any luck this ship will sink to the bottom of the sea. I hug the rail to steady myself. My wife has gone below. I cannot form any meaningful thoughts or carry on a conversation. I am dead inside.
Speaker 2:I am vaguely aware that we arrive in America sometime later. I don't remember the voyage. We have arrived in Newport News. It smells, it's a busy city, there are rats, the glimpse of this life is over and the end is here. It turns off like a TV and then blackness. I fade back to myself. I sit quietly in the comfortable chair, becoming aware of my surroundings the window, the wall. I can breathe easier now the smoke is gone, I do not have his big barrel chest and accent to deal with, so I can relax and my heart rate is returning to normal.
Speaker 2:Catherine asks what are you feeling? I immediately respond I have to keep them alive. From that moment I knew that I would have to be very vigilant and it would be my life's mission. And it would be my life's mission. My boys have not changed very much over time Daredevils, motorcycles, speed risk, ambulance rides, life flight, rescues and pyrotechnicians, fire starters. They have always played with fire, fireworks and things that go boom. I think that if I did not have this memory of the past, I would not have been as vigilant and careful with the boys. I must have told them to be careful 10,000 times in this life, but they are still with me, with families and kids. I think that I likely will live longer because of them.
Speaker 2:Catherine asked what do you think of this new experience? I said is this how a past life memory feels? She said yes, it is. Let me ask you a few direct questions. The rule is do not edit the incoming information. Just say what comes to your mind. Okay, I shake my head. Yes, she asks her first question Do you think this was real? Yes, it pops immediately into my mind. She asks did this happen to you or to someone else? In other words, could it be a dream? Definitely real. I respond right away why? She asked because all my senses had an experience.
Speaker 2:My eyes were burning from the smoke. I could hear people yelling instructions from me. I could feel the floor cracking under my feet. I could feel the heat. Adrenaline kept me from communicating with anyone. I was so stoic staring at the pile of ashes I could barely catch my breath as myself experiencing him.
Speaker 2:How did it feel to be male, catherine asked. I had to stop and think about that. I thought it felt like me. I felt comfortable in that body. It didn't feel foreign at all. My emotions were so high. I thought I would have a heart attack during the memory.
Speaker 2:She asked so you don't think it was a dream? No, I knew that it wasn't, not even a vivid dream, which I have had. But they are different, and I sat for several minutes rethinking for the first time about the memory that I had just experienced. I was picking up subtle additions the thickness of the smoke, the faces of different responders, the depth of rage on my wife's face, how her mouth looked when she was yelling at me as loudly as a human can yell. She never showed any compassion for me at all, only hate and blame.
Speaker 2:My heart was broken into a million pieces and it was hard to get beyond the feelings I was having. I kept circling around to process this situation of extreme loss. I could not imagine life without my boys. Was I to blame? Was this a burden that I had to bear? Was this how men processed grief? I wasn't home when this all started. How could I be to blame? I couldn't breathe, let alone get past this thought of blame. Catherine said take a deep breath. Does any of this make sense in your current life? I reacted immediately Gosh, the feeling of loss was acute and familiar. The boys, the fear. I asked if we could get rid of some of the fear. Knowing where it came from was great, but getting rid of it would be better. Catherine asked do you still feel guilty because your wife accused you? Yes, I do. Actually, that feeling does feel really real at this moment.
Speaker 2:Let's start by accepting that William didn't kill anyone. He is not to blame. Catherine said I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I felt his heart roll down my cheek. I felt his heartache. His loss was palpable. Such a great burden to bear when it was not his fault.
Speaker 2:Catherine asked Can you forgive your wife? No, absolutely not. Catherine asked why? Well, because I don't know how to forgive her. Catherine said let's just think of her and say that you forgive her. She doesn't have to be here, she doesn't have to know. Tell her spirit how you feel. I thought about her, her angry face, but I also thought about a time when she was my joy and my heart in the beginning. So long ago, I thought I forgive you, my dear, you are forgiven. I saw her in my mind and she came over to me and wrapped her arms around me. She felt warm and safe. I wanted the moment to last forever.
Speaker 2:Catherine asked Can you forgive yourself? Forgive William. I swallowed. He was not to blame. He should not feel guilty. Is there anything that you want to say to your boys? Don't leave me?
Speaker 2:Immediately came to mind, as if being abandoned would be unbearable. Catherine said Do you think that you were abandoned by them or do you think this was a careless accident? More tears, tears that seemed to be attached to his very soul. I realized it was a careless accident. I was not abandoned. It was not my fault, nor my wife's fault. Are you ready to forgive you both? Yes, I am, I thought. Catherine said let's ask your soul if we can go to the end of the boy's life to see how it ended. Okay, I thought let's try it. Okay, I thought let's try it. I relaxed back in the chair again, closed my eyes and we moved forward in time.
Speaker 2:Again I am in the attic, but above it floating in the air, kind of in the space near the big beam. This is also the boys' sleeping area. Catherine asked what is happening? I said well, the boys are playing with fire. My oldest son in that life, who is my youngest in this life, is the one leading the way. I can clearly see who is who.
Speaker 2:Between that time and now they have some papers and leaves and stuff that they are setting on fire. It is a game to them, but it begins to burn pretty quickly. My oldest son realizes that it's getting out of control too quickly. He tells his brother to help put it out. They are stomping on the fire but it grows. They hear my wife downstairs calling them to come and check on them. They panic and try harder to put the fire out. They are inside the attic on one end and the stairs and the exit are on the far end and the fire is in between them. It is beginning to run up the walls now. They do not see how to get the fire out and continue trying to put the flames out. The room is becoming filled with black smoke. The cottage is very old. The wood and timbers are like matchsticks. The wood and timbers are like matchsticks. It is burning faster and faster. The entire roof is engulfed. At this point my youngest son has passed out from the smoke, but the oldest lasts until the big beam falls. He is struck but he is very weak before it happens. They are both dead before the fire gets to them.
Speaker 2:This point resonates with me. I take a gasp and more tears. They were not in pain, they did not suffer. I am sobbing. Now we need to cancel their contracts, to set everyone free. Catherine says Contracts. I ask, through the fog of tears, catherine says I know it's a lot and I can explain it more in detail another time, but for now we need to set everyone free. I slowly repeat what she is saying for each person and I understand the point of what is happening. Then it is time to forgive myself. It feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off of my shoulders. I feel like I am standing taller. Now I walk out and as I drive home, thinking of the past, I realize that I am not thinking about the boys. My mind is not swirling around. I have not lost them. They are where they are supposed to be.
Speaker 2:A few days later, catherine called to check on me and I was happy to report that over the days my symptoms have started to abate and I am feeling psychologically more like a regular mom with normal mom fears. I'm not there yet, but I can see it coming, she asked. So, all in all, how did it feel to have my first past life memory? How did it feel to have my first past life memory? She was thinking that it was my first maiden voyage into time. But my mind was drawn further back into the distant past where I experienced a memory included in this book called Child of God. I said to Catherine child of God. I said to Catherine well, to be honest, if this is what a past life memory feels like and how it works, I think I might have had a past life memory before, when I was a little kid. She stops surprised Tell me what happened. I gave her the short version of what happened and my approximate age of about six In my little girl memory, with my child's words and voice from the past, I share my child innocence of a very scary memory of a time with Jesus.
Speaker 2:She's surprised and says we need to work on this. There are things here that need a bit of therapy. I smiled and I thought oh yes, I and this life as child of God definitely need therapy, and maybe this life of William I just remembered too. Many years later, a family member began to have their own spiritual journey. They were having dreams and a persistent memory of something that happened. At the time I realized that I'm kind of like a spiritual magnet and people are drawn to tell me their stories. Ron, to tell me their stories. Even in the grocery store people will randomly just walk up and start feeling comfortable enough to tell me about maybe a past life or maybe about a near-death experience. So it was not unusual when they decided to start talking to me, and oftentimes I will sarcastically say that must be a past life thing. So for those reasons people often feel comfortable opening up to me to talk about very personal experiences.
Speaker 1:Thank you to all of our listeners. If you have enjoyed our frequency journey today, please share it with your family and friends. Make sure to visit us at Clovisstiacom, or you can follow us on Instagram and Facebook, where we have about a million followers over there. Until next time, please share your frequency.
