"VICTIMS, VARLETS AND VILLAINS : A "JUDGMENT" CALL?
One of the first set of Sessions that many people experience at The Light Institute is called: "The Higher Self Sessions." My second day of this early set of Sessions rewarded me with an indispensable spiritual tool that significantly changed my life. Now, years later, I still employ this remarkably reliable gift almost every day.
Under the direction of my own Higher Self, and assisted by one of Chris Griscom's personally trained Facilitators, I was exploring a lifetime as a Native American male child on the North American Continent. This was a period predating the advent of European presence in North America.
I was bundled into a papoose-carrier propped-up in a sitting position inside of a tepee. My mother was engaged in her beadwork. My father was visible outside the tepee. My view through the tent opening revealed a bright blue sky above what appeared to be a peaceful summer day. Suddenly, I had the impression of pandemonium erupting among our tethered horses. My father bolted vigorously from my view.
Our camp was being raided by an enemy tribe. The bucolic setting of the camp exploded immediately into the chaos riven from surprise attack. I could taste earthen dust, and, in a blink, I was blinded by a powerful yellow light. Our tepee had been violently overturned and I was briefly staring directly into the Sun.
Horseback warriors were whirling about everywhere in the billowing dust, and my mother lay in a disheveled heap beside her beadwork, her body remaining ominously still.
There was then a strange and terrifying face hovering above me as a dismounted enemy warrior scooped me up from my place in the dirt. He clamped my body against one side of his naked breast with a wide forearm, and advanced toward our cooking fire. I looked into his eyes. He was emotionless. His eyes were simply the eyes of a highly efficient predator. The sense from him was almost that of a killing machine..... calculated ......analytic..... fierce and unfeeling eyes glinted above high, sharp cheekbones.
I began frantically pounding against his chest with my tiny fists. I was twisting and wrenching my infant body, kicking my deerskin-covered feet at his solar plexus.
As a male in a large body in my present lifetime, I was appalled by my absolute inability to so much as elicit a flicker of notice from this warrior with the full fury of a baby boy's frustrated and impotent rage.
I twisted almost out of the warrior's grip, but as I rolled over, screaming up at the sky, the warrior simply filled his free hand with his knife and disemboweled me as he walked. Even as my Spirit was beginning to hover above my body, I saw the warrior begin to eat my entrails and various organs as one might mosey along munching a bag of chips!
I was simply aghast and (quite literally) "beside myself" with resentment over the fact that this warrior could be *so* incredibly aloof and emotionless during the commission of this horrible deed ! There was no anger in him, no sense of victory, no viciousness, no revenge, no elation ..... in short .... *nothing* ! Not even conscious cruelty.
It seemed to be adding insult to injury to note that I was *so* unimportant to the "scheme of the scene" that my murderer evidenced not a whit of what I would consider "proper" evil enthusiasm for the killing and maiming of my infant body!
At the peak of my pique of "high dudgeon" there on the Session table, my Facilitator softly suggested that I ask my Higher Self to show me a point, or a lifetime, in which I had actually chosen the experience of this little papoose.
Eyes closed, my inner vision blurred with pictures that sped backwards like a VCR on fast-reverse. The pictures stopped, alighting upon a scene that seemed to be taking place in an old, sleazy, highly disreputable ale house situated along the docks in very-long-ago London.
The place was empty except for one pirate-looking reprobate of a character quaffing ale while liberally lathering his beard in the overflowing foam. Off to one side, and in a corner, crouched a female innkeeper who kept a furtive and frightened eye upon said unsavory sailor.
As I approached the male body, I slipped inside. That was me in that lifetime. My black beard was full of grease, testament to the fact that I had just finished eating. Things were primitive indeed inside that body. It seemed that I was inside an empty metal shell with four levers for function : Eat/drink, Fornicate, Fight, Sleep - not necessarily in that order.
This shell of a body was, in every way, easily as empty, mechanistic, and devoid of emotion as had been that native warrior who had so enraged me with his dispatch of my little body during the Native American lifetime described above.
It was now my turn to experience existence in a body functioning at the most basic level of human consciousness. The consciousness seemed almost that of a machine without a sentient operator - primitive in the extreme. Neither semblance nor scintilla of any conscience in evidence. This human body appeared to be animated by little more than the basic reptilian brain stem.
Sitting drinking ale, I became dully aware of intense pain in my lower left abdomen. I had been wounded by a curved blade..... perhaps an ax. I placed my grimy hand directly into the wound. I was attempting to stanch the blood flow with my hand and an equally filthy rag.
It was becoming clear to me that I had received this wound as a result of my very recent effort to kidnap the infant child of the female innkeeper. The innkeeper had fiercely defended her offspring, and had removed the baby to an adjoining room. She had then returned to monitor my every move.
The awareness dawned that I traffic in white babies as a specialty of the slave trade in this lifetime. I needed only one more infant to complete my ship's cargo for transport. My day was not yet finished. I had helped myself to food and ale as the innkeeper remained essentially cornered. She and I both knew that I was not finished with my "business" for that day. I did not take her resistance personally. She was a complete non-entity to me. Her baby was merely my cargo, my stock in trade. I needed it to complete my load. I experienced no emotion over the matter. I was not even emotionally - only physically - brutal. I was simply "mechanical" - just like that infant-maiming native warrior that I had so recently reviewed.
Finished with the ale, I no longer had the innkeeper in sight. She had gone back into the room where she had taken the baby. I knew that room had no exit. The task was beginning to look easier. I opened the closed door that the innkeeper had gone through, and cast my eyes upon the baby in a cradle within convenient reach. Apparently a bit too convenient as it turned out ! Dulled by pain, and groggy with ale, I did not immediately see the mother, but made my lunging grab for the baby. The baby's mother, from behind the door, struck me full across the back of the head with a halberd (a battle-ax and a pike mounted on a shaft about six feet long), killing me where I stood.
I even experienced my own death without emotion. Non-dramatic, non-traumatic, the experience barely rising even to a level of mild interest - "Just business".
So, indeed, having been this thoroughly "mechanical" man who killed at will, and had no compunction regarding the theft and sale of human infants, I could clearly see why I might later need to incarnate as an infant that was being abused at the hands of yet some other "mechanical" killer. Such cause and effect is also known as "Karma".
Chris Griscom notes the fact that we have all, in different incarnations, been both the killer and the victim. Over and over. Being either the killer or the victim (or both in the same lifetime) provides the Higher Self with necessary human experience. Knowledge of both polarities contributes to the evolution of Soul such that, in time, neither extreme need be repeated. As our Higher Selves step more fully into cosmic freedom of choice, and as we spiral upward in evolved consciousness, we recognize that we no longer need be "locked into" choosing either the killer or the victim role again.
Seeing Chris' observation demonstrated so viscerally, vividly, luridly, and incontrovertibly during the "close up and personal" viewing of these two corresponding lifetimes left me no question remaining on the matter !
The tool that truly changed my life, then - the gift that keeps on giving daily - is simply the comprehension of what a wasteful drain it is upon my own spiritual energy to indulge in personal judgment of any another person. Any other person, engaged in any type of activity - no matter how disgusting it may seem to me to be.
I now know that I have either already been that same kind of person in a past life (and perhaps far worse) or that I may have potential to yet become that same kind of person (and perhaps far worse) in a future incarnation. This simple, solid knowing - that I have either "been there", or that I could still "go there", quickly sobers me against the siren call of the addictive indulgence that our human minds often enjoy during the course of judging "the other"."
"Tengo el placer de mandarte uno de los libros que he publicado y en que eres protagonista. Es como un homenaje a ti e a Chris por vuestro magnifico labor. En estos ultimos años estoy recogiendo los frutos del camino que tanto se aclaró en las regresiones que con tanto amor me facilitaste en Schlüsshof, cerca de Berlin, en 2002. Te agradesco profundamente tu estupendo labor. Han tenido que pasar varios años para que lo que sólo era una ilusión, encontrara el impulso necesario para manifestarse. El amor y la luz que supiste transmitirme dieron su fruto y me permiten seguir mi camino con una mayor consciencia, alegría y paz. Gracias, Mercedes."
"You guys do just amazing amazing work! Thank you!!!!"
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