It’s that time again: when I let loose and write about something s *crazy* that even *I* considered holding this one back.
This all started two years ago when I began to self-regress in nightly meditation under the guidance of my kind and compassionate spirit friends.
Some of the things that came up during that time, I wrote about. Some of them, I kept to myself.
See, our past lives are not always pretty. We know how messy life on earth can get, and I’ve seen how easy it is to tie your identity and self-worth to a concept like “lightworker”. Some people only want to look at the light in themselves.
My friends, we are not all pure and happy balls of light. I do believe each one of us has light and shadow aspects of our spirit consciousness and our history. I also believe that both aspects are a perfect expression of the euphoric, universal, we-are-all-one “god”.
I also believe that many of us, including me, have expressed terribly dark facets in past lives, even if, and maybe that’s precisely why, we’re “good people” now.
I do truly believe that all action, thought and experience creates an energetic impact, ripples that affect us in future lives and affect our past lives retroactively… because time is bendy like that.
These ripples, sometimes caused by us, sometimes initiated by others, create an energetic resonance (karma).
In meditation, you might reach a place of expansive consciousness, where this idea is downloaded and makes complete sense, until you go back into your human body and your brain starts to tell you it’s contradictory. It *is* contradictory from the perspective of an incarnated being with a limited and linear life span.
I’ll give you an example from one of my meditations and my personal history. If you’re having a down day, you might want to come back to this story later.
When I was seven years old, my adult teeth were coming in… except I was getting too many. I had extra teeth, and this posed a problem. Not only that, but my adult teeth were far too large for my jaw. The only solution was to pull the extra teeth.
Getting teeth “extracted” is an incredibly unpleasant experience for an adult. For a kid, it’s awful. On top of that, our dentist was old-school. He used *reusable* needles and glass syringes, which make the injection of the local anesthetic really painful.
The sickening maraschino cherry on top of this crap sundae is: the local anesthetic didn’t really work. So there I was, a seven year old kid, getting two or three teeth pulled at a time, screaming my head off, saying “it hurts!” and no one believed me.
I was an obedient child so it took three visits before I stood up for myself and refused to go back to the dentist. I threatened to fight and to run away. Finally, my parents took me seriously.
They found me a new dentist who used disposable needles, a different, effective anesthetic, and he even used a chocolate flavored topical anesthetic so I wouldn’t feel the needle as much. He had five birds at his house, and would bring me colourful feathers as a present whenever I came to “visit”. Eventually, I became this family’s babysitter of their five children, and I survived the subsequent necessary extractions without further trauma.
But I carried resentment with me for years. How could my mother hear her kid screaming in pain and not come to help? How could she bring her kid back there, and not investigate better options until I was so terrified I refused to cooperate?
Of course the rational brain kicks in. Intellectually, I forgave my mother, but the trauma was still there.
One night, in meditation, sliding through the lifetimes looking for old wounds that needed healing, I came upon a life experience with such vivid, visceral certainty in the truth of these memories, that it shocked me to my very core.
I dropped into the body of a massive man, hunched at the shoulders from a lifetime of ducking under doorways and stooping to labor with tools too small for my body. I was wearing filthy, oily leather armor, conscious of the chafing because I was not wearing the proper undergarments. I was wearing only filthy protective clothing and a rusting metal helmet to hide my face, but no soft fabric because it would get ruined from the mess. All the blood, and other body fluids.
I walked down a stone staircase and watched myself pull the teeth of other living humans, while another man in black robes asked them questions.
There I was, doing the bidding of a weak, cruel man, and I was bigger and stronger than anyone in the building. I could have picked up this prisoner and walked them out of the compound, no one would have stopped me. Instead I stayed and pulled his teeth, and the teeth of many others.
Then I understood why I had to experience a small part of the pain I’d inflicted as a result of the choices I’d made in a past life. This was karma, settling itself. The energetic resonance needed a harmonizing note, and my understanding of it released the last bits of resentment and anger I harbored towards my mother.
The last extraction I experienced was when I was nineteen, and I had all four wisdom teeth removed under general anesthetic. My cheeks blew up into chipmunk size pouches for two weeks afterwards, and my face became discolored with bruises as though I’d sustained a terrible beating.
And I have not had one ounce of trouble from my teeth ever since. Not one cavity, knock on wood.
I haven’t gotten to the really crazy part yet. I think I’ll save that for tomorrow. (Or the next blog entry, whichever comes first!)