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Tuesday October 10, 2006: The Face of God; part five (the attempt to prevent future pain)

        I kept standing at the Hub, trying to will myself forward (or perhaps I should say backward) for yet another week. Was it stubbornness or perseverance? Eventually I had to admit I was not making progress. If I was too afraid, perhaps of another episode with the High Priest, then I needed a back door, an approach that would avoid or lessen the effect of direct confrontation.

          It occurred to me that I could split my awareness. Sometimes I could continue physical activities while viewing the action from outside my body. Of course I couldn’t use the technique with detail work, but it had its advantages. It significantly altered the emotional involvement. You are aware of yourself walking or crying or stomping around angry, while also watching yourself engaged in the activity. Part of one’s emotional awareness of the everyday world becomes diverted into the observation.

         Often the technique allowed an accurate assessment of a relationship or situation, since it would be seen from the perspective of a third person.  My problem---this was another one of these abilities I hadn’t used for some time.  I had recently tried short episodes of split-attention. I questioned whether I could maintain a split-awareness for long enough to cover an entire episode, and whether it was possible to split today’s awareness with that of Seeka, a high priestess who lived three thousand years ago.

         It turned out that the split-awareness allowed an incomplete recollection. I hit a stopping point where today’s logic prevented me from seeing yesterday’s reality. Fortunately (or unfortunately), the next day I was hit with an intuitive understanding of a minor detail. It so delighted me that I enthusiastically leapt back into the lifetime the following night, ignoring my previous concerns about general safety issues. This time there was no split-awareness, a very unwise decision.

        Long before Seeka discovered a secret room, my awareness blended that of the high priestess-elect and became inseparable. I became powerless to stop the episode from carrying through to its completion. Caught up in the beauty of a large crystalline head of the goddess, I found my third eye opening, found myself standing face to face with Sekhmet, Herself. My heart melted before such splendor, and I eventually passed out, overwhelmed by the bliss.

         The High Priest (upon discovering me in a swoon) had revived me, dragged out the details, then beaten me to a pulp for not following his rules and regulations. I could not understand the intensity of his anger or why I was once again being punished, only that this was more brutal than any previous beating.

          It is hard to explain how intensely real pain can feel when one is reliving a past life. I’d never been through anything remotely similar to this pain or the beating, not in this lifetime nor in the most intense nightmare. The worst part---this time, the ‘me’ that existed in today’s world was unable to break free of the experience, unable to force myself back to an awakened state. I fought to stay above the pain, then finally began a more desperate fight---to sever my connections with the body altogether. Death seemed far more desirable that a life so saturated with pain and misery.

          Realizing he’d gone too far in venting his anger, the High Priest quickly called in the other priestcraft for laying-on of hands. The first part of their energy work reached out to my higher body (which was desperately seeking to separate forever) and dragged me back, reconnecting me to a battered and bleeding body.

          I lay there with all my pain, listening to the High Priest convincing the other priestcraft (who still had hands upon me, pushing energy into my weakened body) that Sekhmet was responsible for beating her own high priestess-elect; it was the penalty for anyone who dared to look upon the goddess’s face. Through a mashed and bloody mouth, I attempted to deny this, but the High Priest was instantly down by my ear, whispering so others could not hear him, laying the mother of all guilt trips upon me. My heart ended up more broken in spirit, more pained than any physical beating he’d ever inflicted upon me.

          I struggled with tears and painful shame for some time before realizing I had pushed myself out of meditation. The awareness I was in my own room did not stop the tears. Anger rose up within me. The tears that streamed down my face were no longer tears of pain or shame but of anger.

          “Why,” I yelled into the night. “Why does every memory of this lifetime have to end like this?” The anger was not directed at the High Priest. I was only mildly surprised at that. I was angry at the memories themselves. I was tired of dealing with a lifetime so lacking in joy. Why was it so important for me to keep going back into these memories? What purpose was there, to keep pushing me through this again and again?

         I could feel the presence of spiritual guides around me. If they did not speak it was because I could find the answers myself. I resented their silence. Now I grew angry at my guides, my teachers.

         “Why do I have to go through this? What is it I am supposed to learn?”

         No answer. That meant I could find it easy enough on my own. Like it or not, they expected me to find the answer myself. All right then. What was the answer? Every experience in our lives could be used as a lesson, teaching us about ourselves and the way we saw or related to the world. Sometimes we saw the lesson clearly. Sometimes we drew our own conclusions, made our own rules to protect us in the future. There we were, thinking our rules would keep us from getting hurt again. Instead they ended up limiting and restricting our potential. In the long run they always outlived their need to protect us. They became guards instead of guardians.

          I knew all this but it didn’t make me feel better. The anger had turned cold and bitter inside me. “So what are the conclusions I’ve carried with me? What are my restrictions?”

          I snapped out examples, my voice harsh and sarcastic. “Reach for your potential, Seeka, but don't reach too far or you’ll get hurt? Use your talents, Seeka, but don’t venture in different directions or you will end up being punished?”

         Like a bubble, the anger burst. My God, that was the answer. That was the conclusion that had always kept me reaching and stopping, afraid of my own success.

Posted on Tuesday, October 10, 2006 at 12:30PM by Registered CommenterThe Skeptical Mystic | CommentsPost a Comment

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