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Alexander the Great's Horseman's Spiritual Journey

Alexander the Great's Horseman's Spiritual Journey

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Alexander the Great's Horseman's Spiritual Journey

4/5 (1 Bewertung)
137 Seiten
1 Stunde
Aug 17, 2013


A spiritual journey taught by horses.
Krystina Kellingley, Axis-Mundi and Our Street Books. I really enjoyed this book. It is well written and contains some lovely descriptions, which paint family life vividly. There is also folklore, mythology and some wonderful stories.
The 2nd book of a non-fiction biographic trilogy of Scotland’s horsewhisperer, Peter Neilson. After Peter bought a new horse called “Nod” he discovered that “Nod” was a seriously mentally traumatised horse, who was a danger to both himself and Peter. Another horse called Quizzy came for healing. Peter discovered that in a past life Quizzy had been Bucephalus, Alexander the Great's famous warhorse, whose mausoleum is in Pakistan. Further Peter found out that he had been Alexander's horseman, which is why these two souls came together again. This book records all the ponies and horses that were significant in leading Peter on his Spiritual Journey from childhood until the present. The book is about lifetimes being transmuted and healed when humans and horses come together to heal. The work in this book is far more evolved than anything which took place in the book and the film “The Horsewhisperer” or has been undertaken by the likes of Monty Roberts. Peter Neilson, a trained engineer and former farmer, whose conventional life from a farming background always included horses and dogs. a professional horseman and retired joint master of the Duke of Buccleuch’s hunt, trainer and healer of horses. he has been filmed by the BBC, Channel 4 and Border TV, as well as been written about in the printed media. There is a free lance film producer’s documentary being shown around the world.

Aug 17, 2013

Über den Autor

Animals have been a major part of my life since childhood. My dogs are my shadows, three of which have returned to me a second time through reincarnation. But horses are my number ONE. They have led me on my spiritual journey.


Alexander the Great's Horseman's Spiritual Journey - Peter Neilson



Peter Neilson is the most interesting of characters. He is kindly, gentlemanly, and he has the most adventurous spirit. In his early years, Peter's adventures took place on the backs of horses and running alongside his canine companions - out in his beloved countryside at a fast gallop. Then he took the adventures inside - into the minds and souls of the animals he cherishes so dearly.

This book may strike some as strange and fantastical. To others it will be the teaching guide their hearts have longed for.

Do we have past lives and events that need healing in the present time? Well, if Peter's experiences are to be believed, we do - and so do the animals. What's interesting is that when past life traumas are addressed, then behavioural problems in animals simply fade away.

I know that Peter speaks the truth, because I have experienced it first hand. My canine friend Freddie went to see Peter with inflamed and itchy ears - a recurrent problem that I had been unable to resolve. Peter put his hands on Freddie, and the next day ... he was cured.

Christ said that in order to enter the kingdom of heaven, we must become as little children. I believe that this is Peter's secret. He is open to all that life can teach him, and he hasn't allowed anyone to shut his curiosity down. Like an enthusiastic youngster, but with the intelligence of a man, Peter has explored without judgement or prejudice, and incorporated everything that has worked for the animals into his way of being. And what he does works.

It has been a privilege to have met Peter Neilson - he is known and respected by hundreds of animal lovers who have crossed his path. And it is a privilege to recommend this book to you. There is more to this world than our physical eyes can tell us, and Peter can guide you gently there.

Catherine O' Driscoll, Author

What Vets Don't Tell You About Vaccines,

Shock to the System, and The Animals' Agenda.

Chapter 1

I, Peter Neilson a real horsewhisperer, was born in Glasgow in March 1940. Why has this book been written? A friend, who is a healer, received a visit from her deceased father, a military officer. He told her that she was to tell me that I was to write about myself and horses that I have been involved with. As I had failed to react to the instructions of her father, he returned and gave her the message a second time. So here I am obeying the instructions from spirit and from this military gentleman - orders are orders!

Why does spirit want this book written? Because they wish their message broadcast. The book demonstrates my evolution with horses that led me into the spirit world. It demonstrates the increase in human/animal communication. And what is very exciting is that I know that future generations will be able to advance way beyond the level I have currently reached. I'm not finished yet, because with the changing energy taking place on the planet I don't know how much further my evolution will improve.

Within these pages, you will read about my real life experiences involving the spirits of horses, and the miraculous healings that have taken place. The path I have trodden has led me to know, without a doubt, that we have more than one life upon this earth. Many of the healings I have witnessed in my horses involved resolving traumatic experiences in past lives. The proof of the pudding, for me, has been that once the past life traumas have been resolved and released; emotional and physical problems in my horses have healed.

In the early nineteen hundreds there were millions of horses in Britain. There were racehorses, hunters, hacks, carriage horses, army horses, and workhorses on farms as well as similar horses for transport. There were even multi-storied stables for horses that were required for the distribution of goods from station depots etc. These were much like our modern multi storey car parks. They might house up to three thousand horses or more. Who looked after these horses? Men, rather than women cared for one hundred percent of these horses.

Now a hundred years on we have approximately the same number of horses in Britain. But the picture has changed dramatically; the workhorses have disappeared to be replaced by different types of horses required for pleasure pursuits. Ah, but the biggest change though is who is looking after them? Women. Yes women, at least eighty percent of these horses are cared for by ladies. That I can assure you is and has caused a seismic shift in thinking between mankind and the horse. And for the better. The Council of Horses states that horses are now looked after better on this planet than ever before, and there is still plenty of room for further improvement. The souls of each specie of animal have a Council and then there is The Council of All Beings.

Chapter 2

My journey with horses has been a long one; they have consumed my love and attention for most of my life. My parents before WW2 lived on the outskirts of a small town, Beith, in north Ayrshire, Scotland in a house called Morrishill. When aged two I was evacuated to a small farm near Kingussie in the Scottish Highlands. This was done because my home was on the flight-path for German bombers returning to their bases after bombing the shipyards on the Clyde and the industrial areas of Glasgow. All the bombers, who had been unable to locate their targets, had to ditch their bombs in order to reduce their payload. Resulting in random splatter. With lighter planes they had enough fuel to make it home.

All I remember of that farm was a small grey but warm farmhouse with pine trees to its right and a heather bank behind it. I returned home aged four and I can remember the outside of Morrishill, also the front garden.

One strong memory from those years was when one afternoon I witnessed a tragedy. Our nanny was pushing the pram, containing my baby brother, along the pavement. My very small sister and I were walking beside the pram. The family's yellow Labrador left us suddenly and crossed the road in front of the coal lorry. He was killed instantly. I can still see him being loaded onto the flat bed of that wagon to be taken home. His death upset me badly and for a few months the shock of it caused me to tear my hair out from the top of my head in my sleep.

Later, in 1944, my paternal grandfather died. He had lived a few miles south of Beith in the countryside surrounded by farms, so we moved to his house, Chapelton near Stewarton. My grandfather had become immensely wealthy owning coalmines, engineering works and brick factories. He had the original small gent's residence near the river demolished and had a mansion built on the land above the river valley. I lived there for four years and can remember this house well.

It was 'L' shaped. Having entered the front door you came to a substantial hall panelled in a dark wood. Off to the right was my grandfather's smoking room, again panelled, and with a large collection of books. I can still smell his cigars! The big, light and bright drawing room, the smallish morning room and the huge dinning room all were accessible from the hall, they being opposite to the entrance. To the left was a broad staircase, which as children we had great fun sliding down it on flat wicker baskets. Upstairs were the principal bedrooms and bathrooms. Then on the other side of the two green baize doors were downstairs, the butler's pantry, scullery, kitchen, servant's hall, larders, storerooms and a vast laundry. Upstairs were the children's bedrooms, nursery, servant's bedrooms and sitting room and bathrooms.

It was a great place from where to explore the countryside. One day my father took me out over some fields and showed me the craters from the German bombs, which had been dropped indiscriminately causing irregularly spaced vast holes. I was always accompanied in my wanderings by the replacement, our new Labrador; a black fellow called Caster, my shadow. Apparently I was unable, as a child, to say that word and so pronounced it Cuckie. I always called Caster 'Cuckie'. This was a dog name that was to become very important to me, as you will find out.

Also near to hand were horses, for hunting, in our stables about half a mile away and then there were the gentle giants, the Clydesdales, on the farms. Once a year the coal pit ponies would appear for their annual one-week holiday, this being the only time they weren't underground. They could smell clean air; feel the sun, rain and wind, roll, stretch, yawn, and scratch. Eat grass, drink from the burn and behave like a herd of ponies. I was warned that they kicked and bit at both ends and in particular they didn't like little boys. Well you guessed it, once it was all clear, I and my shadow

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