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Because Lisbet lived in a very remote part of the world, there were not many friends or relatives for her to interact with,
therefore she had a very complex relationship with her father, who to a certain extent had to take on the role of mother,
father, brother, sister and friend to her. Life was full of ups and downs, it's obvious that her father loved her very much
but on occasion he would sometimes let his temper get in the way of their relationship.
I have some very fond memories of Papi, but also some very upsetting ones too. That is why I've made the decision to devote
two seperate chapters to him here in this website, one for the good times, and one for the bad times.
Before my regression I didn't remember anything about Papi at all other than what happened just before we died, and my
dreams he always appeared as a shadowy faceless figure. But then after my meditation, and through meditation, I began to remember
my father.
One of the first things I remembered of my father is one of my favorite memories which still makes me smile every time
I think of it:
I'm with my father and we're fishing in a fairly large lake.
He has a fishing rod that looks like he made it himself as it appears to be just a stick and some wire.
I think he's using the rod for the first time, and he's trying
to land a very big fish for us to eat. I'm up to my knees in the water and laughing at my father, the rod is nearly bent in
half because the fish is so big. He's trying to pull it in, and i'm trying to catch it. The fish is so big and slippery and
thrashing about, my hands are only small and clumsy and i'm getting thoroughly soaked.
The rod snaps and my father falls backwards into the water,
the fish escapes with half the rod still attached to it. I try to look concerned for my father, but i'm also trying not to
laugh because he doesn't look very happy.
In my present life, the sound of panpipes always transports me back to the hills and mountains of Ecuador. I find that
listening to a cd always helps me when I want to remember, and I've often meditated to the sound of panpipes with a fair degree
of success. I have a few short memories of my Papi playing the panpipes:
In this particular memory, I see myself as Lisbet, and she's
lying flat out on the ground, under a blanket, looking at a dark moonless sky full of stars. We're outside of our "hut", the
location of which is very remote, so the only light is coming from the campfire that we'd made earlier before the setting
sun. There's something cooking in a pot over the fire, I don't know what it is, but there's a sweet smell in the air, like
fruit. There's one of my friends there and she is crouched down beside me, and tickling my forehead. I look around and I can
see my father in the glow of the fire, and he's playing the "pipes" for us. The whole scene is very tranquil and relaxing...
I was helping my father who was up on the roof of our house
and appeared to be carrying out some repairs. I had a two-pronged pitchfork and I was using it to pick up bundles of tied
up hay. After dipping it in a trough full of brown liquid, (I don't know what it was, but the smell was gluey and made me
feel sick) I raise the pitchfork loaded with straw up to Papi, who takes it and carefully arranges it on the roof. I also
remembered taking a strip of cloth from a pocket in my skirt, and tying it around my head to keep my hair out of my eyes.
Then I fast forward to a more leisurely moment where I find
myself perched on my father's knee, with my back to him. He's trying to teach me how to play the panpipes, and he has his
arms around me, holding the pipes up to my mouth. He's taught me how to blow properly and he's telling me to blow while he
slowly moves the pipes up and down for me, together we create a tune which I still have in my mind now.
I have many memories of my father teaching me how to do various things, he had a
lot of time and patience for me and he always praised and encouraged me in everything I did. One of my more recent memories
is of Papi trying to teach me how to swim...
I remember as Lisbet, I was sitting on a jetty or something
similar by the river. I was dangling my feet in the water, I was wearing a gown or a dress or something similar and I
was looking at my knees, which were all bruised and scabby, just like any normal kid of that age I guess. Then the next thing
I was in the water and Papi was holding me 'piggy-back' style, but he was wading out into the deep water. The water was rising
up until it was nearly up to my chin and I started to panic but I wanted to be brave. Papi was laughing in a teasing way and
I screamed when some of the water went into my mouth. I felt scared but it was fun at the same time. Papi let me go and my
feet could barely touch the river bed. He was standing on the bottom and the water nearly came up to his chin. He was
holding my hands but kind of pushing me away from him, I think he was trying to teach me to swim. Then something under
the water brushes against my leg, I can't see it but I panic and I scream again and then I'm thrashing around in the water
trying to swim towards Papi. I don't think I was very old, only about 6 or 7, that's how I felt anyway
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