Quest For The Afterlife - part 10
Out Of Egypt
I'd already had some previous experiences indicating a past life as an Egyptian. I was very curious about it, and chose to use that as my starting point. It had been a couple of years since I discovered what Saqarra meant and I really hadn't had any reason to search farther. I didn't know what to make of the dream I'd had and why Saqarra was revealed to me. Nothing else associated had happened in the years since I found it on the map. With the new job at the Egyptian owned restaurant, I felt like maybe my employment was yet another of those nudges with which I've grown so familiar.
It was afternoon, my grandchildren were down for a nap, and the house was very still. I went downstairs to the family room, intending to make use of the quiet time. I've never had much trouble visualizing images, and had gotten pretty good at stilling my mind. I got comfortable stretched out on the sofa, propped a couple of pillows behind my back and closed my eyes. Within mere seconds of stilling my mind, I only “saw” a deep blackness. With no warning, I was suddenly looking directly into an eye which seemed to be staring at me. It was uncomfortably close and appeared to be just floating there in the blackness. It blinked once slowly. The sudden appearance, the close proximity to my own eyes, and the languid nature of the blink, startled me to the point of jumping up.
At the time, I didn't understand what had happened or why I was seeing this eye that seemed to have a life of its own. The skin on my arms had raised and I felt a slight chill. The episode was extremely unnerving. I later came to learn that when we go into trance, it's not unusual to experience seeing an eye. It is our higher self we are looking at. Others refer to it as the “third eye”. I've only seen it a total of three times, and each time, I'm surprised by it. However, I don't become so unnerved.
I wasn't about to let the image scare me off from doing what I had set out to do. I've always operated on the idea that if any of these abilities are able to be employed by others, then I should be able to do it too. This may be why I've not had any real difficulties in comparison to what others have told me about their own experiences, or lack thereof.
I went back to the sofa, got comfortable again, and sent out the thought message that I would like to see my Egyptian past life, or at the very least, get some insight about it. It didn't take long for me to realize I was now standing in a street with very large white buildings lining it. I didn't bother to look at the buildings because my attention was on a young woman walking a short distance ahead of me. I remember thinking that she was pretty and that she had a nice form, well proportioned. I was especially admiring of the long black hair hanging down her back, over a white tunic type dress. I realized I was following her, though I don't believe she knew it at the time. She turned and entered a building, that I knew to be a temple.
At this point, I remember thinking that the buildings were so very white; not at all as I expected them to be. For whatever reason, I expected to find sand colored buildings made of mud bricks or maybe granite or marble. I never anticipated the whiteness and the fact that all of the buildings in that area seemed to be of smooth surfaces. In other words, there were no seams visible like would be seen if built out of bricks.
I followed the woman into the temple, keeping my distance. The inside was nothing more than a long hall that led straight back to a wall. At the wall, one could either turn right or left and move down another hall. I didn't get to the end of the hall, though. It was dark and much cooler inside than it had been outside. The little bit of light was provided by tall lamps constructed of a large circular shallow bowl standing on pillars. The oil in the bowls was burning, sending out flickering light and dancing shadows.
I remembered having read that when attempting to see past lives, one should take a moment to look down at themselves. What kind of clothing are being worn. What color of skin. Are you a man or a woman? I looked down at my clothes and realized I, too, was wearing a white tunic. It wasn't anything elaborate, but seemed to have some decorations around the collar and cuffs, as well as the hem. The colors of the decorations were vibrant blues, yellows, and a burnt orange. I was wearing some other sort of collar like jewelry.
I looked at my arm and hand and was very surprised to see the darker skin of an Egyptian. I wasn't a black person, but I had the coloring of what one would expect to find with a person of mixed African heritage. The skin texture was coarse. The hair on the arm was definitely masculine and the hand itself was not the hand of a woman. Initially, I was a little taken aback. I guess I hadn't given thought to possibly being a man.
I remembered it was also recommended that the person attempt to find a mirror for viewing oneself. Since the woman I had been following was no where in sight, I looked to find a mirror. About half way to the end of the hall, I came to an alter/table of some sort pushed against the wall. On the wall above it was what looked to be a mirror. When I stepped up to it, I realized it wasn't the kind of mirror we would find hanging on our walls. This one was a highly polished metal. From its color, I assumed it might be bronze.
I stared at myself, unable to react. I imagined myself to be experiencing the same confusion as what Scott Bakula's character in the TV show Quantum Leap would experience upon seeing who he had suddenly become. I didn't know the person looking back at me. I was having trouble seeing clearly, but there was no doubt that I was looking at a very mannish person. If I wasn't a man, I certainly was missing my chance. My face was round, cheeks full. My nose was somewhat flat and wide, my lips a little bit fuller than my own. The eyes were decidedly black. I remember thinking that my skin was rough, swarthy in appearance, and very thick.
I was just really getting into my vision when a loud voice called down the steps to me and brought me back to this century. The interruption was unfortunate since I have never been able to get back to where I was. I believe it's probably because I haven't truly made much attempt. I also am not sure what's to be gained by knowing more. I assume that in the end, I'll find out more when it is conducive to where I'm headed. Until then, I don't worry too much about it.
My daughter, Lindsay, had moved back to our old hometown where she and her husband bought their first home. I had only recently gone back to work and didn't have much time for visiting as often as I liked to do. Our frequent trips to Gettysburg had slowed to once a month, and so I didn't get as much time pursuing my favorite interests. One afternoon, in the early spring of 2004, we were getting ready for an impromptu trip. As we packed a lunch for the four kids, Lindsay and I were discussing the areas we wanted to make sure we visited on the trip.
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The conversation took a turn to a rehash of past experiences and an exchange of ideas regarding what may have been behind some of the “unexplainable” incidents. Out of the blue, Lindsay turned to me and asked me if I believed in angels.
I didn't know what to say at first. I'd never really given it any thought. From the time I was quite small, those in my family all took it for granted that they existed. Over the last four years, I had determined for myself that everything we had been raised to believe wasn't necessarily the truth. I remember standing still and just looking at her, wondering why she had chosen that particular moment to voice her question. She noticed my silence and stated that she wasn't trying to make me uncomfortable or put me on the spot. It was just a random thought and she wondered how I felt about the subject.
Over the course of the previous four years, I had come to the conclusion that the only evil existing in the world is that of a man-made type. I don't believe in demons or Satan. I've come to the conclusion that we humans have so much more ability to manifest our thoughts than we give ourselves credit for. My experiences have taught me that we create our own realities. Based on that belief, I feel that anyone who lives in fear, who expends energy toward a belief in evil, negative entities, will experience those types of phenomenon.
I've had many, many people warn me about the evils of reading tarot, dabbling in numerology, and recording spirit voices, over the years. I have yet to experience anything untoward as a result of my interests. However, these same people who give warnings, seem to believe that every negative event that transpires in their lives is a result of something from the depths of Hell. My first thought on that is simply to say it must be nice to never take responsibility for the outcomes of one's actions. How nice to have a scapegoat waiting to take the blame for the repercussions following a bad decision.
It was this knowledge of my beliefs which prompted Lindsay to ask her question about my feelings regarding the existence of angels. From her perspective, she felt that if I had no belief in demons, then I would hold the same belief in relation to angelic beings. My answer was probably not what she was looking for, but it was the best I could do at the time.
I told her I really wasn't sure what I believed. At that time, I felt that anything was possible (even demons, though I didn't subscribe to the notion), and while I thought it was possible, I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea that they come packaged with fluffy white wings and golden halos, heavenly harps in tow. I ended with saying, I supposed if they truly existed and they wanted me to know about them, they would make themselves known to me.
I was not prepared when they made their entrance into my life less than a month later.
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