If I’m honest, over the years I knew I had some inner child trauma to deal with… Something that was always lurking, but never quite surfacing. Because an obscure part of me felt like a boy, never quite grown up.

But I never could’ve imagined how deep it would go. How deep it would be buried. How it wasn’t even a part of this lifetime I’m living, where too often this unbeknownst pain projected onto the members and objects of the world around me.

This is one of those past life experiences that began bubbling up out of my subconscious on its own, giving me nary a warning, demanding my full presence and attention with no way out. All I could do was listen. Feel. Cry. Heal. It was a mess, with extreme hologram flux made worse by body illness that couldn’t handle the intensity. Somehow I got through it. This is my one lifetime meant to get through the pains I’ve accrued during lifetimes in this Matrix, so I had no choice.

This healing presented itself in somewhat of a story format so I wanted to share it. To show what “Life on Earth” can be like — what life in this Matrix can be like. I came here to understand this Matrix from the inside out, and I guess child abuse in another time vector was part of that picture…

Healing past life child abuse in my current “lifetime of lifetimes” was a mind-warping experience that formed mirages in my hologram. It was weird and uncomfortable and intense. Because this part of me still felt like a child, and was still feeling the pain that child had endured. It didn’t die with the lifetime.

For a period of several weeks, this agonizing childhood took over my adulthood. I had to process this ancient hardship in real-time, for a good chunk of time. I had to become his perspective, while keeping my own consciousness tucked aware at the back of my Mind, and at the core of my Heart. So much for “adulting” in this life when you’ve got an inner child demanding to reintegrate into your consciousness. I was perceiving things like a little boy — I felt unsafe, afraid, and in despair like a little boy. I just wanted to be hugged safe and held away from the pain — I just wanted to be saved from an environment I’m not sure my past life inner child even escaped from.

Although this past life didn’t involve sexual abuse, that topic came up and was the trigger that began unraveling all of this. First it was a slow reveal, then it gained extreme momentum. When the pain fully erupted I was stricken by fear and seeing abuse everywhere, even in harmless reflections. As the fear and anger melted away, the processing left me hyper aware of Children and their Innocence, and the harms done to them throughout time in this world.

The harm done to me in times past. The harm done to a level of my own Innocence, the suffering of which was always lurking behind the curtains of my life, but which I had never been able to perceive, heal, and reclaim until this point.

Meeting this lost part of me was a long time coming.

The memories and emotions of this Inner Child’s hardship were encased in a cage of touchy fear and vicious anger, and that cage was submerged deep in the depths of my Heart and Consciousness. This anger often swarmed my Mind in this life, a fire whose burn I never fully understood, or where it really came from. My Awakening began in 2012, but the anger was the only level I could access since then. It would take twelve years before I had the maturity, capacity, and sanity to retrieve the depths of this boy’s pain.

“Spirituality isn’t for kids!” Nor is it for the faint of heart. Nor for the fools who stack their fancy fake past lives like trophies on a shelf, while make-believing the shelf is the resume for unearned spiritual mastery. Legitimate Spirituality is real, hard work. Legitimate mastery, integrity, and humility is born from processing these depths. It’s about going through it and coming out the other side, more whole than the fragments ever add up to on their own.

Although I’m now in a place of physical healing and relative peaceful splendor in my life, this experience accreted in me the awareness of just how harrowing life in this Matrix truly can be for its inhabitants — not just in the past, but for unfortunate souls today who endure horrors they haven’t yet died from. I’m over here as this Spiritual Foreigner who has voluntarily and higher-consciously taken on existential hardships to try to understand what the hell is going on here, but there are so so many Native Innocents who have had to endure these horrors for eons, against their will and without liberation or healing.

Healing this Inner Child now instead of in the past, has better informed my contemporary consciousness about what people really go through. All from re-living the experience of a child who endured pain of such potency that he absolutely could not process it as his child self. And even if he lived to be an old man, he wasn’t able to process it before death either. So in a way, it was better to process it now instead of back then, for both the stronger capacity I had in this life for handling it and the awareness I could gain in this life from processing it.

To be fair to my past children and adults alike, many of them could not process their pain within the finite confines of their lifetimes. Life after life after life has bubbled up now in this lifetime to heal and integrate — to return their life back to me. I’ve had to re-adopt chunks of my consciousness which got lost to the ways of this world.

I have had to be the father to the orphanage of my Soul.

The Boy in the Barn

A boy.

All innocent and playing, not a care in the world.

Seemingly in the Middle Ages. Fire-lit lamps and cobblestone roads.

But then … he was kidnapped.

Eyes covered, shoved onto a wagon. Taken somewhere away from home.

To be pushed around by peasants in the worst sense of the word. Abusive people with no spiritual awareness and no redeeming 3D traits. Kidnapping young boys to do grunt work on their farm, so they could survive while the boys’ souls withered away and their bodies ached apart with premature age.

I remember sleeping inside a barn. Musty, dim, and dreary. Full of hay and all the smells of animals. Candle-lit. Maybe I should’ve set it on fire, but I didn’t.

This barn was that boy’s life now. Pushed around and yelled at, coerced to take care of animals and pick crops so other people could get by, while in his soul, he died.

This is where his vicious anger developed, to try to fend off that existential death.

The anger that I would inherit, not knowing the source of its fury in this life.

His carefree innocence soured. It turned inward and twisted. These people didn’t give a fuck about him. They hurt him, repeatedly, as their way of controlling him. Mental, emotional, and psychological abuse. Maybe physical abuse too, at least knocking him around like a horse on the ground.

So, he became vicious at these people. Acting out. Pushing back against them. Yelling back at them. Snarling at them when they said something hateful.

But of course this just earned him more abuse. Doubling down on his misery.

I don’t know how he died. Or if he got away. But the pain he endured, never resolved. I inherited it. That poor boy’s little lifetime wasn’t big enough to feel everything he experienced. He would need me to help him. And still, it has taken me over fifteen years of Awakening to become strong enough to feel his pain for him.

This is what “spirituality” on Earth is about. Not being blissed-out, but collecting all the parts of ourselves that have been shattered by pain and abuse and scattered across this black hole galaxy. I’ve been able to perceive maybe one happy-go-lucky lifetime out of ten traumatized lifetimes.

I haven’t really been able to live my own life in this lifetime. I’ve been repeatedly barraged with ancient pains. My life has not been my own — my anger hasn’t even been my own! In a way, all of these soul fragments have been my children to take care of, so wounded and hurt by the harms of this world as they were. I have not had room in my life to parent children, because I am a father to the orphanage of my soul.

This journey has been hard and messy. Especially during the valleys of my health, when I could barely think or feel clearly, it’s extremely challenging to process these existential things effectively. And where did all of my health issues came from?

The pains of time past, embedded in my cells for a future misery.

A future healing.

Just writing all of this out gave me tears and shivers, as the cellular memory was still active and processing. I am but one guy with impaired health, energy, and focus, bearing the brunt of the pain and processing of multiple lifetimes. None of these past parts of me could heal in the confines of their own lifetime, so I had to be the one to pick up the pieces.

Especially for this poor abused boy in the barn. He was buried in me the deepest, and his pain has held out the longest against Bifurcation (which has been surfacing our pain and stripping unwholesomeness out of us for years now). My spiritual journey began in 2012, with the wounded anger lasting about that long, and I just couldn’t feel the profundity of this boy’s pain until now.

Soul Retrieval

What I went through is what’s commonly known as Soul Retrieval. (KS might have a more technical term for it but I can’t recall.)

When an aspect of our consciousness is stuck in-time and in-pain, it loops in on itself and continues to live out the same experience, recreating the past today. This is what leads to toxic subconscious patterns and behaviors that we can’t change through simple reflection or meditation.

When I worked with a shamanic practitioner many years ago, she described it as retrieving a “gift.” We get back a lost part of ourselves. Something we sensed was missing but could never quite put our finger on.

For me, it was my Creativity. My ability to write. To listen to music or play around making it. To edit photos. To just express myself all carefree without being cornered by the fear in my cells.

My Creativity was online when I was young, but by the end of high school it got conquered by various wounding and programming. I was so frustrated in trying to heal this part of me, because I’ve spent so much of the recent years reviewing the prior years of my life, and I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me.

Turns out I didn’t rewind enough years — enough lifetimes.

There was a boy in me who was harmed while in the state of his own Creativity. Creativity meant being kidnapped. So feeling creative felt unsafe, and even threatening in and of itself.

The pain this boy endured meant that whenever I tried to express myself, a part of my consciousness would get sucked back into hyper-vigilance, looking over my shoulder and imagining negative things happening to me, just for sharing what wants to come through me.

This is what led to my anger complex that got converted into Sulfite Toxicity and Anxiety in this lifetime. A part of me was always on the lookout, and became extremely defensive, and even preemptively went on the offense, at the littlest of things. It was impossible to be Creative, because I feared the retribution of people hating me. It felt as if I could not go into the free-flowing Creative state which is my birthright as a Child of God, because if I went into that state, something harmful was going to kidnap me and abuse me and exploit me for its own gain. (Having this in my subconscious, it’s no surprise I experienced a lite version of this in the KS Swamp: lured into a trap to exploit my creativity for someone else’s own gain. Kidnapped from the masses of social media to labor away in a barn of agenda and propaganda.)

And anytime someone did do something wrong to me (or when I perceived such a sleight even if it didn’t really occur), my poor boy’s vicious anger sprung to life, trying to snarl at his abusers before they could abuse him further. Trying to protect me in this life today.

Past life pain is a deep, troubling, mysterious thing. It doesn’t always make sense, especially in the moment it arises. But in retrospect, so much of my life makes sense now.

So much of my life was about a boy who had his boyhood stolen from him, and then became super aggressive at those who abused him.

This pain has affected other people and areas of my life, because this pain had been haunting me the whole time.

Healing the Heart with a Hearth

The month after this boy’s anger erupted into my awareness, demanding me to see him and heal him, was a somber one of depression and despair.

The cage of his pain was buried deep in my Heart — which also meant my Heart was clogged with it. I couldn’t always feel clearly.

Now, my Heart had burst wide open to let the puss of this pain out. I could feel clearly … and there was a lot of raw hardship to feel from this.

For once I seemed to be free from the ancient anger that always consumed me. But now I had to feel all the pain, confusion, and loss behind that anger.

To make matters worse, I was suffering from extreme D2 Emotionality due to D1 Body imbalances, so all of these organic emotions got over-amplified, and unfortunately I expressed myself from this Emotionality a few times and probably not in the best way. Sort of embarrassing, but what can you do. You are where you are until you grow somewhere new. The Emotionality was a false D1 issue, while my Inner Child’s pain was the real thing I needed to process. There were a few people I thought might be able to help me with this processing, but ultimately I was meant to heal this boy on my own. The boy in me. My own boyhood.

This was occurring during May, as the heat of summer began rising with the early sun.

Yet, intriguingly, this whole period had the sense of Christmas for me. A serenity had washed over me. With a somber peace, I was living through my own dark days in spite of the sunlight.

As the wounded boy healed and integrated back into me, he — I — felt like a boy looking out the window in Christmas, cold but hopeful. May became my winter to curl up and heal.

Christmas has always been my favorite frequency. After exiting the KS Swamp in December, so I thought, I had plans to enjoy Christmas 2023 and really purify myself of the pain and stress and trauma, but that was naïve. Being wished “Merry Christmas” by the person who lured me into a trap to harvest my creativity for their own propaganda is not the stuff Christmas is made of. That’s the level of sociopathy I endured in the KS Swamp. Wellwishes from evildoers. I thought I could just leave and be free, but there were other tethers of karma and conscience I’d have to work through from Christmas through Spring until finally gaining Freedom from it all.

So come May, there I was, Winter finding me in its own time.

And this was truly such divine timing, since the boy’s vicious anger toward abuse was seemingly the main trauma aligning me to the Swamp’s frequencies in the first place. Now it was finally time to heal the swamp of pain that had festered in my Heart and dried out like a fossil.

Some time ago I had printed out a few KS Codes but never really made use of them. Now feeling like a boy in winter, looking out the window, I needed to bring some of these frequencies to life for me. So I propped the prints against a little tree and lit a candle.

A humble flame of prayer and affirmation. Wishing healing for myself and for the abuses of my Inner Child. Wishing healing for those who abused me and hurt me, in past lives and this one. Wishing healing for those I’ve hurt, from the place of pain which haunted me and consumed me for so long.

Atonement.

At-one-ment.

I wanted everything to feel better for everyone. That is the epitome of the Christmas Frequency for me. Relentless hope and goodwill. I hoped even the people in the Swamp found some lightness and healing. I couldn’t hate them anymore or be angry at them. I just had to move on and be safe in the sanctity of my own Innocence.

Not only did I regain my Creativity from this soul retrieval, it returned me to my roots overall. Of feeling cozy with fire in the cold winter (and needing more fire (Jha-et’A Dur-a) energy in general). Of just being happy. Of being free to be myself.

Of having a Heart that no longer had to close itself and be so angry.

I have healed the pains of many lifetimes in this life, but this boy’s pain was perhaps the most difficult, and the most special.

I grew up way too fast, abandoning my favorite toys and poo-pooing playtime before I had truly outgrown them. Now I understand it’s because I was subconsciously afraid of childhood and trying to run away from it by “growing up.”

But all these years later, I was able to return to my Boyhood and rediscover the carefree Creativity and Goodwill which was always at the core of my heavy Heart.