- Once Upon a Time in Soviet Russia
- The Split in My Head
- Soul Loss
- Innocence or Else
- The Tyrant in the Temple
- Full Circle
Once Upon a Time in Soviet Russia
For several years now I thought I had endured a traumatic past life with the Nazis, trying to run away from them across lifetimes only to find these same beings again in the KS Swamp, where they again tried to have their way with me and conform me to their self-righteous ideology.
But deepening insights into my psyche have shown me something else: an incarnation tormented instead by the Red Terror of the Soviet Union.
This surprised me. I never have much resonance with or even resistance to the USSR, and never paid it much thought.
But it seems a deeply repressed part of my consciousness was trying to push it out of sight, out of mind.
Unfortunately, this coping mechanism would push everything deep into the shadows of my mind and torment me across lifetimes.
I’m realizing that my assumption of enduring the Nazis arose from the dark envy my incarnation had for them and their “orderly” way of life. Obviously, the Nazis were horrific to Jewish people, gay people, Gypsies, and others they deemed undesirable.
But the Nazis also took care of themselves and their own kind. With the grandiosity of the Third Reich, they maintained a sense of decorum, civility, and stability in their society. An everyday German might not think or know anything horrid was going on, because they really didn’t see it out in the streets until too late in the game.
Not so with the Soviets.
In Soviet Russia, Soviet Russia kills you!
The early USSR had its feet kicked out from beneath it and its teeth kicked out of its face, with the government usurping farmland and plunging the country into famine.
There was no Superior Racial Identity Agenda protecting everyday unaware Russians from the conquers of Communism.
You were Communist, or else.
If you opposed Communism, you were the enemy.
If Communism couldn’t support you, you were the problem.
The Nazis built themselves a brief Luciferian Golden Age on top of Satanic death rituals, but the Bolsheviks — and paranoid psychopaths like Stalin — simply killed everyone who didn’t conform to the propaganda du jour.
Communism was supposed to be about “equity for the community,” but the architects of that community were diabolic and didn’t care about the people at all, just the ideology, and the ways that ideology could serve themselves.
It’s like a feral cat being told it’ll get paradise, only to be holed up in a cage of communal glory with other cats, without enough food for any of them. An animal accustomed to surviving off scraps now can’t even find scraps to survive off of. Average people were sovereign and capable in harsh conditions, making-do with what they had — but alas, Communism was a condition harsher than they could endure.
What were you to do if Glorious Communism couldn’t support you?
The only options were to die the slow death of famine … die the fast death of political persecution … or conform and be an active part of the system which was sustaining itself itself off pride, greed, machination, and gluttony.
So, feeling cornered, my incarnation joined some sector of the Red Army.
Because he had a family.
And he would “do anything” to keep them safe and fed.
Little did my incarnation know that that “deal with the devil” would haunt his Soul for lifetimes.
Little did he know he was “trading his soul” for the deceptions and illusions of Evil.
The Split in My Head
In 2012 I attended a 10-day vipassana meditation retreat. This form of meditation definitely “works” … and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. It certainly helped me hyper-focus my consciousness and raise my oscillation, very rapidly.
But I wonder if I experienced something KS warns about: activating too rapidly and then suffering problems from being unable to embody that heightened activation in the DNA. This is called molecular compaction and is usually noted concerning psychedelics (which I’ve never taken). But with meditation too, there’s the risk of activating too much too fast, and I did just that, spiritually eager yet naïve as I was.
My Crown came online. As KS usefully informs us, this is the chakra that deals with Cellular Telepathy, the ability to sense-perceive things from afar.
Sounds amazing, right.
But unfortunately for me, my Crown — literally my “upper headspace” — seems to be where the trauma from my frightful time in the USSR laid dormant. When my higher frequencies pushed up against this blockage, it created an etheric head pressure which I could feel tangibly pulsing through my skull. If I brought a magnet near it — or any object actually, even pointing my finger — I could feel the chi respond. It was like chi inflammation. An etheric wound.
At first it was “cool” to have energy coursing through my forehead, temples, and top of my head, with how ~spiritual~ it was … but over time it would grow sharper, or denser, or tighter … and eventually was accompanied with a profound reaction of anger and disgust whose origins I didn’t understand and whose ferocity I could barely restrain. It often burned my psyche alive. Too often it leaked out and projected onto others who didn’t deserve it, or exploded like a volcano when someone did hurt or mistreat me.
More than the concern of molecular compaction, I see that by activating my consciousness in such an intense and concentrated way, I expanded my frequency so far so fast that it hit against a miasmic density that had previously been dormant in my headspace, and the expanding frequency began irritating something that couldn’t budge.
In retrospect I can see clues of this split consciousness haunting me earlier in life, but it never manifested strongly before the meditation retreat squeezed it out. I simply activated too much too fast relative to my ability to handle my own depths, density, and darkness — and then it became a scenario where my newfound expanded consciousness became pitted against my own ancient darkness, in a battle where my unresolved disembodied pain would often consume my head and leave me in a haze of irritability or rage.
In a sense I could see this happening in real-time, but I also couldn’t see it either. It was like my Mind was operating in an alternate reality — still responding to the subtle threats of a toxic environment. Due to the split being disembodied and its wounded awareness being disassociated, anytime it was angry it felt like the cause of the anger was outside of me, rather than a part of me on the inside which I could address. From the Human Station of Identity it simply seemed like it was happening outside of me. From the level of my Heart I felt powerless, because this alternate state consumed my Mind and hijacked my perspective, and often suppressed my Heart to where I could no longer feel it. There was a huge discord between my waking self and my sleepwalking wound which wouldn’t reconcile. Too many times I was so aggressively agitated at someone in my life, not knowing it was my own pain in a state of agony.
It’s taken me twelve years and a half years to begin unravelling what’s been haunting my head.
Spiritual Advisory
If I were to recommend a spiritual practice, it would not be to hyper-meditate, nor to obsess over KS.
It would be to anchor into your Innocence (where eventually you’ll connect with God), feel your feelings, follow your callings, express your creativity, and let your consciousness grow naturally as a byproduct of accretion, expression, and living.
~Spiritual People~ don’t realize that a whole lot of “spirituality” happens automatically, via simply existing and integrating what’s right in front of them. To some degree your own consciousness is self-referential, self-functional, and self-actualizing, because you are imbued with the self-functional Nature of God’s Consciousness. To some degree, consciousness “just works” and it needs to be allowed to work, rather than something being done to it.
Meditation can have a place, but shouldn’t replace your life.
Techniques can have their time, but shouldn’t replace living.
I cannot recommend hyper-activating your consciousness just to “be spiritual.” If you’re desperate for that, it shows you have something possibly imbalanced, repressed, or distorted. It’s probably not a calling, but a coping.
And if you hyper-activate yourself, you risk unleashing internal burdens you can’t bear and demons you can’t face for a decade — as I did. Meditation and activation should be in service to supporting your natural pace of growth and any healing that may be required on that path — not exploited to prove some point to your ego or accelerate the development of something you can’t withstand.
I had no wise spiritual guides back then to warn me. And worse, maybe my stubborn self wouldn’t have listened to them anyway. I guess my path was to learn this the hard way … the very hard way. Sure, I did have a positive intention, of “meditating myself instead of medicating myself” after a dreary winter of depression, confusion, and mopey longing.
But little did I know I was going to open a metaphysical box I couldn’t unpack.
Soul Loss
After some deep inner reflection, and developing as much clarity as I could, and reaching out to various people over the years who might be able to offer metaphysical help, I was advised to consult a shaman.
Because a piece of my Soul was missing (shaman resource link). There was a fragment of my consciousness looping in a state of torment which needed retrieved, integrated, and healed.
In technical KS terms, it might not actually be the Soul which fragments. My sense is it might be a part of our Kathara template, which would explain how various levels of ourselves can fragment. “Soul loss” does not seem restricted to the Density 2 level of Dimensions 4-6, IE the Soul Station of Identity. I think this loss of fragmentation can affect any level of ourself, or at least the human-manifest levels up to 7. So it might really be better thought of as “template loss” or “template fragmentation.”
Regardless, KS does not seem to deal with this type of spiritual trauma. This suffering helped me appreciate that it is truly the work of shamans. Humanity would be at a loss without shamanic work — Humanity would forever be hyper-activating its centers without ever integrating any of the trauma it’s endured across lifetimes of incarnations.
Healing this sort of metaphysical trauma is Shamanic as much as Keylontic.
In fact, “keylontic without the shamanic” is precisely what decks the halls of the KS Swamp: wounded people who aren’t really interested in becoming whole in themselves or functional with life, just in becoming “perfect” or “adept” or “pure” or whatever — hollow aims which derive from the pain that remains unprocessed, deemed too inconvenient compared to climbing the ladder of Ascension. People who do all the techniques yet can’t even figure out their own Soul and or handle their own Hologram.
Each to their own, and to their own timing in due time. But there’s a difference between a person struggling with a lot who’s in denial of it and conflates that denialism with mastery, versus a person who’s struggling with a lot who might have outbursts but is seeking a solution they just haven’t yet found or developed.
Some people never seek, and that unsettles me. I’ve been seeking for a decade and never stopped looking. I cannot imagine stopping, let alone settling. It would be such a disservice to my own consciousness, and to my own innocence.
And while KS has a great many answers, it wasn’t the answer to this form of suffering, and it did not provide a solution. I’m recognizing that some of my attempts at trying out KS technology were actually weak or unsuccessful, because the pressure in my headspace squashed out my ability to really perceive the energies that are involved in KS. Or else it was the health issues which made it hard for me to feel the energies — health issues that almost certainly derived from this chronic distortion in my headspace.
So many of my life issues can be traced back to this Wound of Wounds. It’s been surreal to watch the wound fade away, and for so many senseless things to start to make sense.
If you can notice a stuck pattern or emotion or belief in yourself, and tune into it and communicate with it and hold space for it to show itself to you, and bring it back into yourself to integrate, and heal it so it re-assimilates as a part of your wholeness — that’s Shamanic. And if you can’t do it on your own, it’s fine to consider needing help.
When I first tested shamanic healing with a practitioner back in 2018, it seemed too slow and vague, and I was too impatient.. But that was of no concern; my Higher Self happily took over and began bombarding me with repressed emotions and memories which I had no context for, and no choice but to deal with on my own, by listening to guided past life meditations on YouTube or just sitting with the inner uprising and observing it from the Observer Point. It was a rollercoaster that lasted several years and my Human no longer had a say in it, because he’d been avoiding it and worsening it for far too long.
The “Procyak Past Lives” I’ve written about mostly came into my awareness through this intense self-processing. I’m not a facilitator and wouldn’t want to lead someone else through this process, but for myself I’ve become a bit of an expert. I had no choice. I just had to do it and get good at it. Each time something remained undone or unanswered, I had to learn the next step and go from there.
Yet all these years later, I still couldn’t get to the bottom of this thing haunting my head, so I had to ask for help.
Innocence or Else
The Soul Retrieval brought back two parts of myself, one concerning creativity that went unexpressed from middle school, and the other the strong-willed aspect of my upper headspace that I couldn’t figure out on my own. What a relief.
In the time after the retrieval, insights began to unfold and things started to “make sense.” This wound was so repressed and disembodied that accessing the memories was hard, but they slowly showed up.
It was wartime, presumably against the Nazis.
As elaborated earlier, Communism was a cesspool of pain and hunger, leaving my incarnation to fend for himself — and his family.
My incarnation would’ve done anything to protect his family, and anything he did: by joining an institution he never wanted to be a part of and which felt antithetical to his morality. An institution he opposed due to what it had done to everyone around him — but now if he wanted to save those closest to him, he had to become a member of it.
He had to become what he hated.
Part of what disturbed him and left him — and me — with so much trauma is that he didn’t imagine it would be as bad as it was. From the outside where he could see only famine and suffering in the country, the government looked like an opportunity of prestige and security, where, even if it wasn’t so good at managing the country, at least everything would be taken care of and everything would be alright — right? The promises of Communism.
But nothing was alright in the Red Army.
My incarnation was soon shocked at unexpected behaviors and deeds, leaving him always on edge … always hiding up in his head while putting on a face to not be caught in his disagreement and disgust. His family was safe, but he was not.
Thanks to Stalin, innocent people were in the crosshairs for petty political reasons all the time, and if you didn’t shoot them when ordered to, then you were in the crosshairs of those who would shoot on command.
If you didn’t follow orders, you were the target. If you didn’t backstab someone, you were backstabbed.
When people stopped talking to you and instead began gossiping about you, that meant you were on a list. There were whispers from on high where their evil eye was upon you, marking you as destined for death — or worse, things like the gulags.
One distinct memory was that of being holed up in an office room with no windows, with ugly lighting overhead and drab urine-colored walls bearing a painting of Stalin. This room was my incarnation’s safe room, where he felt his anger and disgust and hatred for the government and its agent.
But it was only a safe room when the door was closed. When it opened, he had to put on a stoic face — or worse, laugh along — and make others believe he was one of them.
This literally split his consciousness in half, and left me with the pieces to pick up.
It left me with the understanding that I was dealing with the PTSD of a veteran who’d suffered psychological abuse.
It also helped me understand why I hated cubicles, being stuck in a box while someone else watched over you. Not surprisingly, my first job was the manifestation of working in a cubicle — and it felt like existential death. I lasted only six months.
This past life has haunted me in so many ways, both mundane and profound.
The Power of Pain
Discovering all of this context helped me make much more sense as to why my upper headspace would go insane and enraged at even minor transgressions and corruptions throughout my current life. There was a dissociative split in my consciousness due to the horror of that trauma. The Wounded Officer haunting my head never truly died and was living in an undying hell, and that hell consumed my Mind without me ever understanding the part of me that was in pain, because it was disassociated and disembodied.
So in this life, coming across people who weren’t sincere, safe, and true-hearted — especially “spiritual people” in “spiritual spaces” where I finally thought I’d be safe from the machinations of anti-Life behaviors and distortions — left me fucking distraught, disturbed, disgusted, and enraged.
My incarnation did his duty for his family and died to get away from all that shit, and then in this life I come across it all again and now it dares to call itself spiritual?
Fuck that.
(*deep breath*)
Forgive me for some anger. Part of the healing is acknowledging its validity.
Acknowledging the undue trauma.
Acknowledging the ugly things dressed up as grandiosity.
Acknowledging the sick and horrible reality that a part of me once had to live in, but couldn’t speak out against because it would sacrifice his family and their total existence.
So he had to keep silent and go along with the psychotic evils, pretending to be okay with things which our Soul abhorred, stuffing all of his unexpressed and irreconcilable anger and disgust up into his head, for me to later discover in some future life to be born.
And that’s how you create a dissociative split in your own consciousness: endure a reality that’s one way on the outside, while holding yourself another way on the inside, and never reconciling the two. Splitting yourself front to back, and thinking you can maintain sanity in that mutually-exclusive duality. Never letting your inner conscience and innocence flow out and affect the external world, because the external world is controlling you and forcing its way in.
And if you express the Godness in you out into that world, you will make yourself a target to be snuffed out by the Evil ruling it.
That dynamic right there is what has plagued the histories of this Planet and probably beyond: psychopathic Beings who crave control, killing those whose authentic and innocent expression is a threat to control, and thereby frightening everyone else away from even considering being authentic, innocent, and humane. This casts a dark cloud over people.
It’s the exact dynamic — and same dark cloud — which has played out over the last decade in Politics, with oh-so-virtuous hateful people targeting and attacking others for daring to have a thought or speak a word or even just be innocent.
There are certainly Luciferian Conservative Narcissists who are toxic, some of whom I’ve had the displeasure of meeting; but the loudest group are the Satanic Liberal Psychopaths who coerce you to comply with fake kindness, and when you don’t, they hate you to your face.
Let the irony not be lost that the forces vying for control over reality today are the same that were behind Communism a century ago.
New party, same Communism.
New face, same Evil.
Now that I’m healing and understanding myself, my thread of incarnations and the traumas endured in them are adding up. My consciousness has experienced the living hell of Communism, and now in this life I’ve witnessed the return of it under a new guise.
In the past life I was unable to do anything about it. I had to go along with it. And that’s why growing up in this life, I got sucked into the same energetics of Liberalism, and for years felt like I couldn’t escape it or couldn’t express myself authentically around it. I always felt attacked by it, even when its adherents were at a distance. I was always so afraid in a way I didn’t understand, and thus angry in a way I couldn’t remember.
Now in this life it’s my duty to heal myself from the wounds of those energetics and live true to my conscience — even in the face of toxic people who are insincere, duplicitous, conniving, manipulative, and narcissistic.
Thankfully, I’m not in the Communist USSR, nor in the Third Reich.
I’m in America, on Earth 2024, where those historic Evils are still lurking about and causing a stir. But also in America, I can be myself, and learn to be strong and hold steadfast against them. They’re not as deadly as they used to be. I’ll survive this time. I can express my rage and disgust and survive to live another day where I can finally return to my peace and innocence and move on away from it all.
Undying Ghosts
There are toxic, Kryst-sidestepping, God-denying forces in the KS arena. What those forces don’t realize is that by daring to speak about Kryst, they’ve raised the stakes to make their own corruption that much more severe.
In the USSR or Third Reich, divine integrity is not being asked of anyone. You can succumb to the lowest common denominator of standards and still get a pat on the back.
But to talk about Kryst, and still operate from Communistic and Nazisistic standards, and to impose those tactics and behaviors on others and call it “Krystic,” and to manipulate them and deceive them and lure them into a trap and an agenda “in the name of Kryst,” is a true sickness of spirit. It’s truly disgusting. It disgusts the past life Man in me who had to endure its evils silently, because he knows that disgust is alive inside those people, and nothing he can do will change it. They’ve already chosen what they are. And they will try to loop me in to go along, and if they don’t, they will hate me to my face — behind my back in the guise of their phantom fantasies.
And to note, I’m not talking about the wounded people who need space and time to heal, whose wounds may sometimes erupt when salt gets poured on them. I’ve been one of those people countless times. I understand the suffering of innocence.
No, I’m talking about the people who don’t want to heal and don’t want to be whole, who won’t reconcile abuses and won’t rectify misdeeds because they think they’re just so right, who are content with their corruption and even glorify their inversions as mastery and superiority — or worse, normalize them as normal and as nothing to be concerned about. They’ve forsaken their innocence, and in so doing have forsaken God to live a Fallen Life.
Most average people lack some self-esteem and confidence, and put themselves down for no good reason. But I’ve noticed that deranged people often compose confidence on top of their corruption, and uplift the worst of themselves as a beacon, maybe because they psychologically can’t bear looking down at what they’ve become and looking in the mirror at what they’ve chosen to be.
Two completely different types of people. One who hurts and doesn’t want to, and another who chooses deterioration because they don’t care they’re hurting.
And I often got sucked in with the wrong crowd, because I still had this war’s wound in my head where I felt like I’d never escape the people who choose to be corrupt. So reality just kept patterning that around me, even amongst KS.
The early era of The Freedom Teachings was gently but explicitly clear about the issues with metatronic energetics, hanging out with entities, and fallen consciousness seeking supply to fend of its finite death.
And now? That’s largely what’s running the show!
So I fully understand why this disembodied wounded part of me is disgusted. Rightly so.
But now, I have the opportunity to heal from it all. I’m no longer locked in by vows and ranks, rooms and uniforms, narcissists and mind games. I am Free. I never gave up on trying to heal this part of me and now healing is coming to pass.
Whether Soviets or Nazis, I got caught up with them. But now I lean back in the relief of knowing I was never like them. I was just in pain. And I’ve learned to heal and move on.
Maybe my Soul wanted such an incarnation in order to experience Evil first-hand from the inside out, since it’s something that is completely foreign in Aquareion. But within that lifetime my incarnation got cornered into going along. Spiritually, he wasn’t strong; but he did what he had to do for the sanctity of those he cared about. So he repressed his conscience and swept his disgust up into his head and put on a stoic face, all to protect people who were more important to him than those vainglorious bastards.
And now, his distress is mine to heal. He couldn’t heal in war. He needed me to heal him in peace.
And the irony is not lost on me that I reincarnated during this time to witness the resounding defeat of Communism which was so close to conquering people once again.
I wanted to be here to see it.
I relish its loss.
Self-Rejection
For so many years I was afraid of this part of me. I didn’t understand why it was so angry. I thought my head had an entity in it that needed cleared, or that there was a reversal that I couldn’t reverse.
I came to hate the part of me who was wounded by that same type of hatred. I wasn’t like those people, yet the pain of them had made me become like them.
And due to rejecting that part, any time I would experience an acceptable instance of anger in this life, the dormant vat of molten rage would spill and erupt, consuming me in its fires and making a mess in my life, completely improportional to the otherwise understandable moment.
Then, I’d eventually come tom and return to my Innocence, aghast at how much had been ruined.
So then, being back in my Innocence just made me reject that angry part of me even more, for disturbing my peace so severely.
It’s been a vicious cycle. I rejected a part of me that was already so rejected.
To accept that part in all of its pain and darkness has been a training in Divine (Self) Love.
During all of this time that I pushed against it and thought something was wrong with me, I finally realized that part was always trying to protect me from the wrongs of this world. [I later learned I was also suffering from glutamate excitotoxicity, which was the physical manifestation of this wound. Supporting GABA and cortisol has helped me maintain my brain and consciousness in a healthier state, even in the face of hurts or wounds.]
A Fine Line
Getting involved with the abnormal people who normalize their issues instead of heal them has fucked me up across lifetimes.
A person who isn’t trying to heal the stuff I’ve talked about isn’t “spiritual,” let that be blunt.
Spiritual People re-spiritualize themselves wherever their spirit is wounded or lacking. Even if there is turbulence and outbursts, and they don’t know what to do about it: they don’t tolerate the spiritless stuff inside themselves. It’s a vow to oneself that something must be done about it, somehow, sometime, God-willing. (If you were fortunate enough to escape unscathed across your lifetimes, then lucky you, you’re exempt and can focus freely on your peace, innocence, and growth.)
Many of “the spiritual people” who think they’re “someone” aren’t spiritual at all. They’re just the people who enjoyed power over others in governments and institutions which have long since decayed in the tides of history and left them behind. But these people never moved on. They never healed. Because they seemingly never had a problem with what they chose to become, and never wanted to be any different or better.
There is a very fine line between being one of those people but not one of those spirits, and being one of those people whose spirit has no problem being one of those people.
A very fine line.
That’s why anchoring into Innocence is so important as a spiritual practice. I talk about Innocence so much in part because this is the reflection I’ve needed repeated again and again in my own life, which nothing else has offered me.
When a person is intimate with their own Innocence, they can discern where they’ve become something which they’re not — there will be contrast. And one’s Innocence will ache until they return to their true nature.
I have ached so deeply for myself. Due to these existential traumas, I’ve known extreme anger and rage and disgust. Sometimes it hurt people. Sometimes they even ‘deserved it.’
But no matter how much my issues affected others, the horrors haunting my head always burned me the most. Others might get singed, but it was me who was consumed. I’ve even apologized to others, only to learn they weren’t even so bothered by it, knowing I was going through my own thing — or other times they were so bothered with their own issues that no apology from me could free them anyway.
It shows me how others have their own issues to work through in their own timing, and how my issue is mine alone, and it has hurt me more than anyone.
So while I have regret and apology to those whom I impacted due to my own issues, I have had to develop even stronger forgiveness and acceptance for myself, and for this part of me I rejected, even as it was always trying to protect me.
My own Innocence has endured deep pain at my own hand, and in my own head.
The Tyrant in the Temple
Along with the soul retrieval work, the shaman mentioned a major energy cord sucking off my head. So not only did I have my own consciousness fragmented and repressed in that area, someone was exploiting that vulnerability for themselves.
I had briefly touched on the concept of Evil before our session, in an abstract way. But she felt the need to redefine the term, to point out that it wasn’t an abstract thing the way she saw it, that it was a specific person doing specific things for specific gains.
What she saw was a man in a temple.
A “master.”
Someone who, to quote her, was “drunk on his mastery.”
Clearly it had gone to his head.
He saw me as inferior.
And to my own detriment, I got caught up bowing to him or caving into his ways, even while knowing he was wrong, all the while he glorified himself as right.
He didn’t listen to me. It was me supposed to listen to him. The inverted master had his grip over people and got his way, by penetrating into their minds and feeding them psychotic temptations to make them stay.
On top of my past life veteran PTSD from a toxic army, I now further understood why I’ve been so disturbed and disgusted by power games, mind games, mind control, and Luciferian mentalism — highly corrupted states of consciousness where rogue minds nominate themselves as gurus and deities and masters with no regard for God, Kryst, Heart, or the Innocence thereof.
What the shaman didn’t know is I experienced a recreation of that in 2023, all “in the name of Kryst.”
She also didn’t know that I already understood the mind control mechanism, such as when the perpetrator leans in all-serious while the air darkens around him, or when he implants sick and fucked up thoughtforms into people, hoping it’ll take hold so they play along with his phantom fantasies, thereby giving his alternate version of reality more and more power.
She didn’t know a thing about that, and yet she saw it anyway. A true talent.
She emphasized that it was an important discovery, because for her to heal me from that nefarious soul, she had to clear the cords from all the other people too. It was humbling to know an unplanned healing involving myself would help others.
And it was affirming to know that tyrants never truly have power. They just have tricks up their sleeve, which can be thwarted and disengaged and leave them weaker. Their power was a mirage that lasted only as long as people were plugged into it.
It was relieving to understand that Evil can be Evil because it chooses to, but still, I can be Free from it because I choose to.
In her words, behind Evil is consciousness who’s forgotten itself.
I might describe it as Innocence which has forsaken itself.
A broken state of consciousness that does not want to return to wholeness, and that’s simply its choice.
Innocence or else.
Innocence or Evil.
Some will never heal or become whole or return to their true nature, literally just because they don’t want to. Some will simply choose to become their own corruption and downfall.
What can you do?
I tried doing things, first encouraging positive changes, or later making the tricks known. I wanted to uplift everyone out of that dark energy and made such an effort. But I was naïve, not acknowledging I had walked into someone else’s temple, a domain over which I had no ultimate control (even though I was told I’d have a guiding hand! — just another part of the trick).
All I could do was leave, and let Evil be. That’s what it wanted to be, and so be it.
Full Circle
The anger and disgust of this Wounded Officer enduring hell in my head has been my longest-running spiritual problem, and the magnitude of healing is proportional to that. So many mysteries in my life have been made known.
Like alllll of the health issues I’ve experienced.
I know what it’s like for the Density 1 Body to barely work. It’s a diligent beast, keeping us alive at all costs. Yet it being alive doesn’t intrinsically equate to it being a good experience.
I’ve experienced so many extremes, including zinc deficiency and hormonal imbalances earlier in the summer which made me super mopey, emotional, and lethargic. And on the other hand I’ve dealt with a lot methylation issues, namely undermethylation, which creates a ragged mental state that sneakily ties into the repressed rage. Then there was the glutamate excitotoxicity, ravaging my neurons into an artificial rage.
Was it the chicken or the egg first?
Now knowing I’ve had a profound metaphysical trauma blocking up my headspace, it’s not surprising that I have had so many issues with brain fog, cognitive impairment, eye neuropathy, and even my spine tingling in my neck. Sometimes my memory wouldn’t hold and I had to record things to reference them later. Sometimes I couldn’t think, nor had the energy to do anything, so just had to just lie there in raw awareness, bedridden in misery. Sometimes my brain couldn’t process reality and misperceived things at my expense, or at others’ expense.
I was half alive, half neurologically disabled.
And then in that horrid state, the Wounded Officer from the past would come to life and make me angry in a way I couldn’t explain or contain.
If you’ve ever felt my writing to be a bit ‘sharp’ (which I’m not proud of) it’s because of this wound which can too easily influence my writing, speaking, and expression; and the accompanying undermethylation and glutamate issues which makes me beyond irritable and ungrounded.
This issue has been deep and chronic, so healing is a slow and steady process. But to have less head pressure than I’ve had in a decade, and less anger sabotaging longer durations of peace, and even less disturbance in the face of spiritual corruptions, is truly a magical blessing.
It’s what I’ve craved for a long time.
I never gave up on myself.
Longing No More
Writing this piece helped me see the bookends of this long phase of my life and its existential loops.
During that dark winter of depression over a decade ago, I chose to “meditate myself instead of medicate myself.”
That depression, I now know, was due to low serotonin, which was due to low methylation. Mechanical things.
And yet there was a spiritual component. I felt a confusing and misplaced longing for a guy whom I didn’t even really like. But he seemed safe, sort of like a spiritual brother.
And little did I know, my Soul or a piece of it was looking for safety in someone else, because it didn’t view me and my past lives as safe — it learned that safety didn’t exist in environments down here, unless it had someone else to be safe with.
This pattern has occurred three major times in my life over the last decade. In American-Aquareion I wrote about Archetypes, and there was a subconscious archetype in me trying to get my attention and understanding. I wish I had decoded its meaning sooner, but I wasn’t spiritually or psychologically mature enough to deal with it. Again, that’s the risk of hyper-activating one’s consciousness like with meditation: I unleashed an animal I was not equipped to tame.
And it morphed and materialized in circumstances outside of me in three big ways over the years, and several little ways in between.
What a trip…
There were several times where I thought I was experiencing a crush, but while talking with a wise friend it dawned on me that crushes are about romance. Duh, I guess that makes sense. I realized what I’ve been experiencing are “existential crushes” at best. This certainly explains why they happened with guys I wasn’t even attracted to and with whom there was never any romantic destiny, let alone any sexual interest on my part. These crushes were very “spiritual” or “existential,” involving the upper centers rather than the lower centers or the body.
It was all just holographic reverberations trying to make me see the reflections, so I could choose to become whole again by reclaiming a lost part of myself. There’s an understated beauty to it. A mystical beauty that not all can grasp or appreciate. But this is how my life and my healing have often worked.
When I became petrified with someone dear to me — whom I feared had become just like one of the people hunting me in lives past, which re-triggered this Wounded Officer’s unresolved distress — the whole loop repeated itself once more and the anger exploded like it always would.
With my apology he probably thought I was in love with him or something. How do you make someone know you don’t hate them except to tell them they are loved? I guess I don’t know. Admittedly I was too sentimental, due to the hormonal and mineral issues affecting me at the time … and felt like a wounded little boy crying out … and was coming to terms with my softer, feminine, emotional self … so I suppose I didn’t convey myself well.
Yet I’ve never experienced being in love…
It was obvious what I was going through was not love at all — it was loss.
Soul loss trying to find wholeness in fleeting reflections, in all the wrong people, in all the wrong ways.
This is how holographic consciousness works, especially when we have repressed parts of ourselves we haven’t re-integrated. We see a reflection that reminds us of the lost part of ourselves and then mistake it as residing in someone else, or being ascribed to someone else. Then we either crave or hate the other person, depending on how we feel about the part of ourselves being reflected back.
But the reflection is just reminding us of a material substance we have lost touch with in ourselves.
It’s never about the other person. No one seems to ever get that. It causes great distress for people who feel the stirrings of their own healing or activation but miscredit it to someone else whom they think they need to be complete. As elaborated in Spiritual Relationships, I still think many people’s unrequited crushes are lost parts of themselves trying to find their way home again. When taken to the extreme, it leads to the “twin insanity” of “spiritual circles.” But it’s not about love, rather about a loss seeking to find its home inside ourselves again. And the paradox of this loss is its healing will often be found without the other person, all the more proving it is a personal part to heal and integrate.
The conclusion of this existential loop helps me understand why I’ve never experienced being in love and never had a bonafide romantic timeline/person come around in my life in the first place. I had a hole in me that no one could fill — and energizing that wound was never going to attract a mate, only the unconscious horrors I had never fully faced.
I also had to work through this existential suffering first before meeting a mate, or else it would always be at risk of hurting someone closest to me.
In the past life, this wounded part kept safe those closest to him.
But now in this life, it was a liability of intimacy.
Around the time the head pressure began I had watched the movie Sophie’s Choice, about a woman who escaped the Nazis, with a central focus on her children. Without spoiling it, it emotionally and existentially wrecked me back then.
Objectively it’s a sad movie. But also it contains a plot point that subjectively haunted me.
Forget falling in love, I knew I would never be fit to raise kids if I couldn’t dissolve this molten anger. I knew that I would too easily lose my temper and yell, and be too aggravated to handle the flux of nurturing a child’s developmental chaos.
I’m not even sure I want kids, or if it’s in my destiny to have kids. I just knew I couldn’t and shouldn’t as long as the issue persisted. I honored that dark knowing, and it was part of what fueled me to seek healing and never give up.
I did it for the Innocence, whether mine or someone else’s. In a way I did it for my own inner child.
It shows why anchoring into Innocence is paramount. Even in spite of my issues, I could discern the inappropriateness of exposing my issues to the most vulnerable. I’ve even refused to open a group or hold space for other people because I knew an aspect of me was not dependable enough to do so. It would’ve been unethical.
From cultivating wholeness to nurturing children, from leaving behind a past life to dissolving its incessant anger, this is a massive healing and blessing for me.
I feel like I can finally start to live my life without looking over my shoulder, knowing I won’t re-manifest situations that recreate the horror. These are sentiments that began anchoring in me as little blossoms over the summer with Freedom and the Pursuit of Happiness.
Reaching the conclusion of a loop that’s been entangling my life for so long is surreal. It feels like the end of a war, where a raw peace and relief washes over everything, even if nothing’s back to normal yet.
I began feeling this sensation one year ago. But it was due for this winter, not last winter. The loop hadn’t ended and the pain hadn’t yet integrated.
Reflections
Over the years there have been many reflections come and gone. Various roles and characters and archetypes that helped me make a little more sense of myself and this loop. These encounters weren’t always ‘positive,’ as in things weren’t always happy or enjoyable.
But they were always teaching me — so in a higher spiritual sense, they were always positive.
We see ourselves in others, until we can be our Self within.
The Essene Mirrors elaborates on this phenomenon.
Especially this year, someone helped me more than I think he’ll ever understand. He played the tough role of spiritual mirror. A sacred role, in the big picture of things.
At first I misstepped, thinking that what I saw was inside him — the good, and the bad. But it was just me beginning to see myself from a new level — the good, and the bad. I began seeing what I had unconsciously rejected in myself, and it helped remind me of the lost parts of myself I didn’t even know were missing anymore.
Soft parts that were so gentle I didn’t know they could survive in me, and heated parts so hot I couldn’t handle holding them at first.
There was an eruption, unfortunate and unearned. I wish I could take it back. Even more, I wish I could make up for it. I wrote words of goodwill, to make it clear the issue was mine. But maybe no amount of words can make up for a scream meant for another lifetime.
Yet, words are all I have. So I write and write and write.
Events were hard to accept, but I realized I can’t heal others of the wounds they hold onto, no matter how much I wish them not to. I’ve learned I can only heal myself and let go, while praying for their best from afar. I had to learn that if something is in not in my control, maybe it’s not my fault or responsibility. Because if it were mine, then I would do something about it — then I could do something about it.
But if I can’t do something about it, then what?
I guess it’s not my problem, no matter how much I want to jump the gun and claim it to have the ability to change it; no matter how much my guilt and regret wants to own it. Alas I can do nothing but be at peace with the flux of Creation as it plays out. People can keep their pain. People can keep their corruption. Fake masters can topple their own temples. None of it’s under my control nor truly my problem.
My power lies elsewhere. If I just stop fussing about the issues of others, I can buoy up back into my own peace and freedom. I wish others could join me here, but they’ve joined themselves with where they want to be. I respect where they want to be. Sometimes they go to places I don’t want to be at all, and all the more power to them. I’ll stay here; I won’t join them there. Part of the art of relationships is staying in our own space, and only meeting those who buoy up beside us — never reaching out or lowering ourselves or raising ourselves to false heights to attain them.
Twelve months ago almost to the date, upon leaving an evil place, I got a useful training in using a “self-contained boundary,” where I could respect myself and not feel affected by external influences and not get entangled further in their energetics. This was something I needed a reflection for, and the seedling for this was planted back then. But it just couldn’t take hold in the soil that was already occupied, harboring forgotten parts of my Soul as it was.
At certain points this year I was presented with opportunities where I had to finally stand up to the Nazis trying to control me, and speak out against the Communists trying to consume me. Naturally, life presented me with the same circumstances and energetics I hadn’t yet healed and overcome. What else could happen? I realized I had to commit to my conscience by standing strong in the face of the same people and behaviors I ran from in the past. I had to stop outrunning my own history. I suppose I’m grateful for the people who played those roles, because maybe I couldn’t have done it without them.
By accepting the part of me that was running, and working with its needs instead of repressing it, I slowly but surely began processing it, getting to place of healing where it realized it didn’t need to run anymore. Nor fight anymore after saying its peace. Just stand up, speak true, and move on.
It’s strange to realize, that due the perceptions of my past pain, I didn’t understand that people can be what they are, and I can be safe. It can be both, not a war of either-or! This isn’t the USSR or Third Reich anymore. Death for disagreement or disengagement or even opposition is unlikely.
Now after a topsy-turvy year, I happily settle into the stillness of winter’s approach leading up to Thanksgiving, cozying up with gratitude for everything I’ve learned and healed.
Now, I’m much more able to remain at-peace in myself, when people without peace try to pull their tricks on me. I think back at some of the things which disgusted me and can stay more neutral toward them, and have more compassion for the suffering they must be experiencing to behave that way.
I can be alive Now, without past lives pulling me back into its pain.
For so long, I’ve just wanted to be alive with the peace of Right Now.
The Peace of Right Now.
A Sentiment from The Founders
Podcast • The Founders: How to be Fifth Dimensional
(I am not sure if this is the legit Founders or not since it’s a ‘channeling’, but the main point of the message caught my attention.)
29:10: “It always behooves you to recognize when you have a certain idea about something or someone that contradicts the desire that you have for an experience. So if you have an experience for a person to be difficult, challenging, disagreeable, or in some other way not to your liking, and you know that you will have future dealings with this individual, then something must change in order to give you the experience you want to have. You may wish to experience conflict with this individual and not even realize that you have that desire.
“But most of you like to have pleasant interactions with others where there is cooperation, unity, and closeness. So when you become aware of an expectation for a less than desirable experience with another, ask yourself whether you can let go of that expectation. If the answer is no, then give yourself the opportunity to create a different version of that person.
“How do you do this? You might wonder. Well, all individuals that you encounter are comprised of energy, and energy is far more malleable than a person with a personality and a history in past lives. So if you interact with the energy that comprises the person first, rather than anticipating the interaction you think you are going to have with the person, you have a much better chance of creating the experience that you want to have.
“How do you interact with the energy first? You do so by feeling for the person’s energy, by contacting that energy, and by seeking out the core vibration within it. The core vibration is always love, and if you can interact with the love that is at the heart of every individual on your planet, you will have a much easier time navigating through your relationships.
“We are the Founders. We are the keepers of the flame.”
Due to the paranoid fears of the Wounded Officer in my head (and all of “his” health issues, especially glutamate episodes and hormonal imbalances), I often approached people with unconscious apprehension, fearful expectations, or unearned anger. This is what was at the root of all of my mirrors: the fear that they would hurt me or betray me. So sometimes they did, showing me the extreme pain I had yet to resolve.
With certain relationships I was going into them and responding to them from a state of loss which I didn’t know was vacant in me. It had been there all of my life, so for a long time I didn’t know anything was amiss, not until my unwavering Innocence offered enough contrast to my suffering.
But I also realized I was responding to myself from a deep loss. And expecting something to be wrong in myself.
I was hating a part of me that I thought was hateful.
And a main part of the solution was to learn to love this part of me with compassion, even while it was aggravated, even while I wanted to reject it.
I’m learning to show up for myself with Love preceding my perspective, no longer resisting and rejecting this suffering that I didn’t understand.
No wonder I had certain themes looping with certain karmic relationships. They were always showing me how my Head treated my Heart. How my Head once had to take over to protect my Heart in an alternate world where no one was safe.
I just forgot to set my helmet down when the war in my consciousness was over. I lost myself in my Head and had to find my way to my Heart again.
It can be easier said than done, but as always, the point of Spirituality is to Let Love Precede.
Addendum
Someone shared this interview of Nathan Reynolds with me. It would seem he’s been through some extreme things, not dissimilar from what I’ve gone through, but also in many ways much worse. (Not for the faint of heart if bonafide evil gets to you.)
Around 02:03:00–02:08:00 he mentions “You have to masquerade as one of these people, and you’re not allowed to touch any of them. And that broke me.”