The Inner-Child – an aspect of the Self

In an earlier post I write about the strong connection and close association between  the Inner-Child and the Higher Self. I want to expand on this point. The Inner-Child is completely and fearlessly open to Spirit. When we enter each life we too are open to Spirit and able to perceive and interact effortlessly with this realm. For most of us this open connection fades as we get down to the business of experiencing our learning in each life. The Inner-child though continues to be blissfully and innocently embraced by those in spirit, allowing the channel between the Inner-Child and the Higher-Self to remain open. Understanding our Inner-Child and reconnecting with him/her, then, is a powerful portal to our Higher-self.

The Higher-Self is an aspect of the Self that remains aware of our entire journey, across all lives, to full development as an enlightened Being.  Establishing a conscious link to the Higher-Self supports us in being able to become our own observer, helping us to lift our heads above the drama of life to catch a glimpse of the ‘big picture’ in terms of our current life.  These moments of clarity allow us to understand why we are engaged in the challenges that we are and to more readily access the learning that we want to achieve. This understanding enables us to move more quickly through these learning experiences and so clear the way for more growth.

Kathy Baker

Artist unknown








Who is your Inner-Child?

Your Inner-Child is an aspect of yourself that is powerful, creative and most closely aligned to your Higher-self. Your Inner-Child is not a powerless victim who has been wounded and is in need of  rescuing. Rather, the pain and wounding that is traditionally seen as belonging to your Inner-Child is instead held within the themes and goals that you have selected to be the focus of your life-work. Your Inner-Child is simply the barer of these sacred life-lessons that have their origin in past-life experiences. I am shown the Inner-Child as a child holding an armful of ancient scrolls, each scroll carrying a past-life experience, sometimes traumatic, sometimes full of grief, and sometimes it is a deep fear that has no logical place in your current life. Each scroll needs to be opened and love and forgiveness brought to the experience and fear, so that balance can be achieved and the strong emotions released.


Since not everyone has access to past-life retrieval, the life contexts that we plan for ourselves are selected because of the emotional triggers they hold that will bring in the echoes of these past-life traumas and patterns. When we find ourselves in the throes of a major challenge it is helpful to check-in with our Inner-Child to see if the current challenge relates to one of our chosen themes carried by this child.  The creativity and power of our Inner-Child is then available for us to help design a way of working with this particular life-lesson. Because our Inner-Child is so resilient we are able to try a number of strategies until we find a way of resolving the challenge.

Resolving a challenge can sometimes be as simple and profound as changing our perspective. When we view our life, or a particular situation in our life, through a different framework, or belief system, the reality that we had invested all our pain and angst in suddenly disappears. The characters within this particular drama are seen as just that, people playing certain roles for us and we no longer need them to be in that role. This may mean that as we change our perspective the people around us change their roles to suit and we are able to transform relationships so they become nurturing rather than abusive. Other times it may be necessary to let go of these relationships because we no longer need them to remind us what we are meant to be learning.

The more scrolls we are able to take from our Inner-Child the more clearly we can see him/her as the truly joyous and creative being that he/she is.


The role of the Inner-Child

_DSF2362Our Inner-Child is a way-shower for many aspects of our adult life. When we are birthed for each life we have already determined the main themes we want to experience and the main goals we want to achieve. We have selected our parents and our parents have agreed to play the roles we have asked for. Other members of our soul group have likewise agreed to play certain roles. Roles that will provide the backdrop and context for the curriculum we have set ourselves. The shaping of the Inner-Child within these contexts creates deep emotional and psychological encodings that once understood spell out the wounds from past-lives that need to be brought to the surface; the challenges we want to be able to overcome; the forgiveness we want to be able to offer; the love we want to experience.  Unlocking the map our Inner-Child has steadfastly carried for us allows us to plot our way forward in a conscious and self-loving way that honours and cherishes our Inner-Child and gives us an adult’s view of both the path travelled and the path ahead.

I have worked with many clients over the years who as adults are still struggling with the theme of challenges that they faced as children. It might be the woman who perpetually chooses relationships with men who will create the same pattern of pain left by her father. It may be the man who experienced an impoverished childhood who as an adult never feels he has ‘enough’ no matter the wealth he accumulates. It might be the woman who is not able to trust in her ability to make decisions or protect her family who as a child was unable to protect her siblings from family violence.

It is our work between lives that establishes these themes. One of the first things we do once we have passed is to review our most recent life and identify our achievements and the areas we would like to work on again. Our Spirit Guides who have worked with us for many lives help us to select which theme/s, or if you like subjects we want to enrol in again. Some of us are perfectionists and high achievers and will attempt to work on more than one main theme or will provide ourselves with learning contexts that are harsh and demand much from us. Others of us are happy to take our growth more gently and will plan for less arduous life experiences.  However we choose to experience learning, our lessons begin at birth with the family and context we are born into, hence our Inner-Child becomes the key-stone to remembering our path.

Being able to establish an adult conscious connection with our life-goals and purposes allows us to bring love and understanding to our lives. To see the purpose of the joy and the pain and to more easily step into the role of observer of ourselves. I have found time again that accessing past-lives helps to identify these goals carried by the Inner -Child. Often the only way for clients to understand their child-based pain is for relevant past-life experiences to be revealed.  For example, a client may be shown a number of lives where decisions made by him/her have resulted in the death of people they love and feel responsible for. Past-life experiences such as these tend to echo through to the present life as an overly developed sense of responsibility for others and/or fear of loosing loved ones. To make sure that the desire to bring balance to these past traumas is remembered the child in the present life may find themselves in a family where he/she must carry responsibility for the care and wellbeing of siblings and possibly a parent. This may then begin a life-pattern of taking on the burdens of others and feeling a deep need to micro-manage his/her life and the lives of those he/she feels the responsibility for.

This life-pattern with it’s underlying sense of fear will continue until a conscious connection can be made with the source and purpose of this way of being. Such deep understand provides the opportunity to bring love and forgiveness to the self. This allows inner growth and learning and the release of old pain, making way for other learning experiences to enter.  If  we are unable to access this learning in our current life, we simply choose to experience the same theme again in a future life until we have achieved the growth and understanding that we desire.

Photo and words -KathyBaker

The power of mother-love

Earlier this year I read for a woman who had lost her child to cancer. She was wracked with ‘mother guilt’ as her son referred to it when he came through. Partly  this guilt related to her sense of failure as a mother for not somehow saving her son from this disease and partly to her inability at times to save her son from the tortures of fruitless medical intervention.  But the most painful sense of guilt lay in her interpretation of her behaviour not long before her son passed. At this point her son was unable to respond in anyway and was unable to eat or drink. In a state of denial, as she later believed herself to be, this distraught and loving mother insisted on trying to feed her child.

As she finished sharing this during the reading her son responded by saying that far from an act of denial it was a profound act of love that was necessary for both of them and spoke to the primal need that exists between mother and child – to nurture and be nurtured. Her son said that for him this seemingly simple act reminded him of two very important things. Firstly it symbolised the depth of his mother’s love for him. Secondly, and perhaps most importantly,  it reminded him that in fact He was not going to die, only his body. As such He still needed nurturing and would always respond to his mother’s love. He went on to say that his mother’s attempts to feed his body fed his soul and allowed him to fully prepare to leave his body without fear.

It would seem to me that when caring for those who are preparing to die, acting from love will always provide what is needed, even if at times both ourselves and others may view our actions as less than rational.  This beautiful depiction of mother-love speaks to the profound power of such simple acts of love and demonstrates that these stay with those in our care over time and life, both during and after their embodiment.

Kathy Baker

Mother and Child by Pablo Picasso


It is never too late- Healing relationships with those who have passed

Recently I worked with two clients in their sixties, both women,  who were still experiencing trauma from childhoods of emotional and psychological abuse from their mothers. For one woman the damaged relationship with her mother could be traced back through generations of harmful parenting, but for the other her mother’s treatment of her linked back to undisclosed sexual abuse of the mother.  Regardless of the cause of the relationship trauma, in each reading the client’s mothers ,as well as grandparents from both sides of the family, came through.  In both cases insights were provided as to why their mothers treated them in this way, love was given and forgiveness asked by all family members. Each mother expressed her heartache at the long-term damage caused, damage that they only fully became aware of once they had passed and completed their life reviews.  Whether the client was able to express forgiveness at the time of the reading or not, each mother asked for permission to be able to mother them now from spirit and to be the mothers they had not been able to be in life.  One client felt able to forgive and a great healing took place for both the client and her mother and their troubled relationship began to heal. For the other client forgiveness did not come so easily, nevertheless healing was begun by the telling of the story and the acknowledgement of hurt.

I have seen this many times before and am awed every time by both the capacity for forgiveness by the human spirit as well as the love and need to ‘make right’ from those in spirit. Being able to forgive while still in this life is immensely important to our own health and wellbeing while on this earth. It is also important to our soul’s growth and evolvement and sets us up for the next life already having experienced the lesson of forgiveness.

Kathy Baker


Through the generations – my story (part 6)

At the time of my father’s accident I was thirteen years old and beginning to feel better about high school and life in general. My best friend from primary school was with me, and things at home had settled into a bit of a rhythm. My younger sister and I were quite infatuated with our little sister who was pretty and out going. My mother still struggled with her health, both physical and mental, and would run the house from her bed. Despite this, or maybe because of it, Heather and I had a lot of freedom riding our bikes and our horses around our local streets and the large paddocks at the end of our road.

All of this came tumbling down on the day of the accident. I can remember it clearly. My best friend and I were on our way home from school when her mother unexpectedly pulled up along side us in her large station wagon and beckoned for us to quickly get in the car. As I got into the back seat I saw the burlap from my father’s motor bike that he had had made to protect his legs from the bitter cold as he rode across the mountains and back to teach at the  TAFE college.  It was explained that I would be taken home to my mother and that my sister Heather was being picked up and taken home as well.

At home my mother sat both Heather and I down and told us that our father had been in an accident and was seriously injured. Afterwards Mum pulled me aside and told me that Dad wasn’t expected to live. She asked me to explain this to my little sister Anne, who was 5 years old at the time, because my mother didn’t think she had the strength to do it herself.  As asked I sat Anne down and told her that Daddy wouldn’t be coming home because he was going to live with Jesus in Heaven. We had  been attending Sunday school all our lives so I hoped that she would be able to understand.

My father did survive, but remained first in hospital and then in rehabilitation for many months. When we first visited him he seemed pleased to see us, though he didn’t remember our names.  I was shocked by the crew-cut misshapen being that had replaced my beautiful father. Before me was a dribbling embarrassment whose every second word was a swear word.  Nevertheless, I felt certain that he would recover fully and return to us the intelligent and proud man he once was. Needless to say this didn’t happen.

When my father was eventually discharged we all arrived at the rehabilitation centre to bring him home. The trip home in the family car was a slow one. My father could not cope with the stimulus of the car travel, finding it frightening to travel at the speed limit.  So my mother drove the 28km home at 30km/hour. I remember feeling embarrassed and terrified. If my father couldn’t even travel in a car, how could he ever get back to work?

By this time my family was existing on a disability pension and the food hampers that the local Catholic priest delivered. Mum’s own church community was conspicuously absent. The two horses, Lady and Billy, that Heather and I had charged around on were found new homes because we could no longer afford to feed them.  It was a sad parting but my sisters and I knew that it had to happen. Our mother was very stressed and this worry over money made her illnesses worse.

Kathy Baker

Photo by K Baker


Communicating through the veil of Alzheimers disease

This week a number of the clients I worked with had a loved one with Alzheimers disease. This has led me to share what I have learned and experienced over the years when connecting with people who have this disease.

During readings I am connected with people who have passed and shown those that are still living and who are important to the theme/purpose of the reading. When people with Alzheimers are introduced into a reading I am able to communicate with them as though they too have passed. Their soul is very actively connected to the spirit realm. Because of this they are able to talk to their loved ones who come to the reading and share their love and gratitude for the visits and support currently provided to them by those around them. Even though their bodies and minds are not able to acknowledge these valued and important gifts of time and love, their souls gratefully receive.

A beautiful example of this was a father who, during the reading, acknowledged to his son that as a father and husband he had been emotionally distant, denying his family the love and nurture they had required. Because of this he was amazed and humbled by the love and attention that he was receiving from his family and the staff of the nursing home. This particularly since he was now incapable of responding in even the smallest way. He identified one son in particular who came for regular visits and for the first time in their relationship opened his heart to his father and shared his life and love during these visits.

For this man Alzheimers had allowed him to truly see his family for the first time and to willingly acknowledge and receive their unconditional love. So even though it seems that your loved one is lost to you because of this disease, they are in fact more aware of you than ever before and are always grateful for any kindness you are able to show them.

Kathy Baker
Photo by
M Baker


Through the generations – my story (part 5)

My youngest sister was born when I was eight years old. She was referred to as a “change of life” baby as my mother had apparently reached menopause at the ripe old age of forty-two. Six weeks after her birth my mother was stricken with rheumatoid arthritis and osteoarthritis in every joint of her body. And so began my mother’s years of wheel chairs and confinement to bed.

When my baby sister was six months old my sisters and I were left with an aunt for the fourth and last time.  Our mother had once again been hospitalised with depression. The main difference this time was my baby sister.  The aunty we stayed with on this occasion was understandably less than enthusiastic to find two small girls and a baby in her care. Squeezed into the small three-bedroomed house were now six children, two parents and two grandparents (one with dementia).  As the eldest of my little band of displaced children my aunt and uncle told me that the care of our baby sister fell to me. This involved all nappy changes, sterilising of bottles, feeding and comforting.   Somehow we muddled through and all three of us survived this period of neglect.

By now my father was struggling to make his business pay it’s way. The story goes that he would accept payment in kind from clients which included items such as cabbages and oranges. I am told that everyone was feeling the economic crunch.  My parents kept the business going as long as possible but eventually my father had to close his dream down and begin a career as an accountancy teacher at Technical and Further Education (TAFE) colleges.  To supplement this income my father also worked one day a week at a local accountancy firm.

This work load was not so bad while my father taught at a local college which was only forty-five minutes drive away. However, once he was transferred to a college ninety minutes drive away over a mountain range things began to pile up on him. To save fuel my father bought a motor bike to make the commute. This was not such a hardship as a my father had had a long love affair with bikes which he found gave him peace and freedom that was lacking elsewhere in his life.  Nevertheless to this day I do not know how he managed the ride over the mountains in winter when black ice covered the patches of road as he travelled home at night after teaching his classes.

But it wasn’t the mountain road that finally saw the end of his riding days. It was a piece of flat mud-covered road that he travelled on the way to his second job at the accountancy firm.  We were told that he lost traction in the mud and came off his bike, hitting his head on a solid wooden guide post at the side of the road. This accident did not kill him but left his brain damaged and my beautiful intelligent father became a shadow of his former self.


Through the generations – my story (part 4)

As the storm clouds threatened to take over my mother’s life my father started his own business, an accounting company, which he eventually ran from home in a purpose built office separate to the house. My mother worked with him putting sixty hours a week into the business while running the house and caring for two demanding little girls who consistently deprived her of sleep.

This gruelling work load eventually took its toll and  before I was five years old my mother was hospitalised for the first time with major depression.  She stayed in hospital for several weeks during which time she was subjected to Electroconvulsive  Therapy (ECT) and placed on heavy medication that left her feeling groggy and disconnected from life and the world around her.  As always in a crisis my mother’s spirit family, led by Steven, gathered around her offering comfort and support. My mother tried to resist them because she knew too well the consequences of ‘communing with the dead’.  Their loving energy that promised to soothe and heal proved stronger than her fear of god’s retribution and she began once again to talk with spirit.  Unfortunately seeking such solace resulted in dire consequences, not from god but from the medical staff at the hospital. My mother’s stay was lengthened and and her doctors began considering that their patient had experienced a psychotic break.

Could my mother’s shame be any deeper? Hospitalised for a mental illness and needing one of her sister in-laws to care for her two daughters.  For years to come my mother’s hospitalisations were to be referred to by my father and his family as ‘stays in the nut house’. The stigma of her illness was immense.  When my mother returned home this first time she presented my sister and I with a wicker doll’s cradle each.  She had woven these during her stay in hospital as part of her therapy. Even then I could sense an air of humiliation around each cradle and something in my mother’s eyes as she gave them to us made me want to look away in shame.


K Baker