Last night around 3am, once awake, I thought to project to the war zone and focus on deceased soldiers on either side, pretty much as I had done the month before in Ukraine. Once ‘there’ I came across an Israeli fighter, likely IDF but I didn’t ask, going straight to the invitation to move on. An atmosphere of distrust was immediate and I soon saw it was not be overcome on that occasion. He emanated anger and barely restrained aggression, and at one point accused me of ‘working for the other side’ and wanting to abduct him under false pretences. Of course I did my best to deny that convincingly, but to little effect. It occurred to me later that I was not quite as focused as I could be, and satisfied myself in knowing that I could easily return the following night.
In the meantime I have finally come across useful and appropriate references from More Adventures In Eternity on the energetic atmosphere ‘above’ war zones and retrievals ‘within’ them. It’s contained in that’s section of the narrative where the guides determination to unhook me from my dependence on their superior wisdom was peaking. Like many stages on the inner journey once you are past them they seem like a storm in a teacup but at the time almost insurmountable. Doubts, assumptions and self-imposed limitations can be powerful until you break through them.
“Some months after the ‘take your own power’ campaign had successfully subverted my humility stance they moved from carefree joshing and teasing to more open mockery. This turned into a ‘do it yourself campaign, starting as far as I can tell now, on January 6, 2003. I had been prompted by reports of a suicide bombing in Tel Aviv. Making contact I asked was there a need for me in that city. The response, ‘wait a minute let me check’ now looks a bit cheeky in retrospect. The, ‘Yeah, if you feel like it, most have already been moved on but there’s a couple of sticky ones’ seems more purposeful. Then my ‘take me there’ is cut off with ‘no, take yourself, you know how to get there’. Well, excuse me!
In the dusty ruin I encounter a young woman who seems quite disappointed that I’m not a ‘more Jewish angel’. I assure her I’m a Scottish angel on a special mission. ‘Oh, she tells me, ‘I met some Scottish people and they were really nice’. Course that helps and soon we’re off to one of the several astral reception camps over the area. As with many long term trouble spots they are very well organised. ‘Come, come, says the rabbi who meets us, ‘there are many people waiting for you, come!’
That was quick so I go back for seconds. On request some guide shows me a curled and quite dead body. Somehow I know there’s a soul still in it who won’t come out. Bad case of denial, I smirk to myself, and seem to know just what to do: beam of light from my crown chakra to his. Woops, too much power: he shoots right up through the planes to his Higher Self and right back down again. Another beam next time; from the throat chakra to throat chakra. He starts to moan and writhe about. The ‘me here’ is baffled. What am I doing? Then suddenly I know to shoot a beam from the second chakra to his second chakra, which results in a sort of sexual excitement infusing his writhing, bringing him back to life, even though we know he is ‘dead’. Like some old pro I leave the rest to the helper and buzz off. No wonder they’ve got attitude. Later I wonder, as I often do, or did then, where exactly I got the techniques. The answer I come up with is: going obe at night. This is all about remembering, about bringing the hidden out into the open.”
Several other retrieval situations are recounted, at least two involving going back in time, which by them I’d allowed myself to do. Some hundred pages later there is another useful reference. I had uncovered the ability to split into three or four aspects of the astral ‘me’, sometimes perceived as glowing orbs and others as humanoid forms of varying appearance and apparel.
“Another ‘me’ was participating in what you might call a group meditation over the ‘Holy Land’. It’s a part of fairly regular attempt to balance out the dark clouds of fear/anger/blood lust/vengeance with the divine light of love and understanding. Teams of discarnates and earthside obe’s continually blend, merge and move on as other activities beckon, and although the project is work, it’s fun work as that particular energy we are channeling is from a much higher level than we normally reside on, and the effect, if you surrender to it, is not that different from the excited dance of bubbles in pan of boiling water. Visually it appears like we’re poking searchlights into a roiling mass of dark fog. I say ‘balance out’, as the idea is not to clear up a problem, but to offer avenues of escape for those who tire of the struggle and who truly seek to transcend the iron grip of their culture and ethnicity, those who would forgive rather than inflict.
The dark clouds are the centuries accumulation of competing ideologies and the wilful perversion of the various prophet’s divine inspirations. Of course this is not the only area of the planet with such energetic accumulations, but it’s one of the worst, with Haiti not far behind, and left unchecked would quickly feed others. Though all these nodes of conflict actually need to exist so that the tensions inherent in evolving personal identity through the various stages of growth through family/community/tribe/nation and preferences of a religious, social and political nature can be accommodated with the amount of flexibility necessary for the almost infinite variety of individual characters completing their journeys, they have to be monitored so that the ‘escaping steam’ of tensions does not completely obscure the light of love which bathes them. Fortunately there are always dedicated discarnates available for such work and the balance of opportunity is always maintained.”
As we can see, from the internecine struggles, civil wars and deliberate genocides of just the last century, such work is always required, although those who despair of its effectiveness can well be understood. Resisting the lure of despair as we move through the illusions of time and space is perhaps the major challenge of the inner journey.
After the previous night’s failure to convince the earthbound soldier, I thought to project again last night (Wed.3am). On feeling myself ‘there’ the first thing I heard was a voice saying ‘Why are you here now, you only just left?’. This confirmed my (and others) long-time contention that much of what one brings back in meditation and projection is merely a snapshot of what you are up to while asleep and functioning unconsciously. I soon came across a group of soldiers who seemed to share feelings of shame for failing to remain alive and fighting the enemy for the honour of the state. They had failed to complete the task handed to them. I could see forgiving themselves would be a challenge but sensed there was not much I could do about it. I did think however I could use that energy to convince them to come with me to a better place where they could ‘relax and regroup’. Okay then, spoke their self-appointed leader. Rather then grouping them inside ‘a bubble’ and ‘moving up’, I lead them away, walking, to the field of flowers and trees I’d seen before. Slowly we emerged from the dark misty area into a dawn-like appearance of light which revealed the pleasant park type area I’d seen before. They relaxed into it as did the previous group, with relief being the most prominent sensation spreading about. I told them I had more to do and to wait for me. Fortunately trust was given to me, perhaps driven by exhaustion, but trust all the same. I returned to the misty gloomy twilight and walked about sniffing for clues of ghost soldiers. One challenged me from behind a smashed door and the busted wall. I replied that I had come in peace to help them out of there. He stepped out from the shadows to examine me more closely. I held steady and gazed at him as sincerely as I could manage, knowing it would be an uphill battle to gain confidence. Sooner then I’d hoped his resistance melted away and he motioned for me to follow him. Into the astral replica of a ruined building, through hallways and stairs we came to a basement-like room where his several comrades crouched. The vibe of ‘being rattled’ hit me. That and the look of, oh I dunno, pride mixed in with pathos. One attempts to minimize one’s insights and perceptions and ‘get on with the job’, but bits and pieces of ‘intelligence’ seep through.
Their ‘leader’ told them I could get them safely out of there and that they should follow me. Murmurs of dissention rippled through the ranks. Some of them thought that fighting on was the smart move and as they all still held thought-form weapons and the feeling of still being useful, assertiveness took a while to calm itself. I just stood there, observant and calm, as the feelings sorted themselves out. Some worried about being shot at as they followed me out of the ruins to this safe place I spoke of. I told them I had a shield of invisibility I could throw around us as we moved. Yes, about like that radar reflecting material on fighter jets, just more psychic in nature. Of course ‘dead’ Hamas fighters, still under the illusion of functionality, could shoot at us but the bullets would be as ineffective as any weapons employed by the dead throughout history, including arrows and swords that seemed to go right through bodies.
That language seemed effective and soon we were up and away, moving at a walking pace away from the astral ruins and slowly into the dawn-like atmosphere that made the park like meadow visible. As I had earlier expressed the intention of focusing on soldiers from the IDF, I was more or less confident that Hamas fighters would not be accidentally included. Some recognition of fellow fighters came as a relief and the generation vibration of shame mixed with pride mellowed out somewhat. Even the jagged watchfulness of being always on guard seemed to more or less evaporate. After ‘a while’ I called out to the assembled that it would be good time to move on to the reception areas, where food, showers and bedding was readily available. Better than any army camp I added. That got some chuckles. Sensing that distrust and resistance was now at a minimum, I expressed the intention for a bubble to be thrown around the entire group and we changed levels without a hitch, arriving at the entrance to the ‘army camp’, where a number of greeters made them very welcome.
Of course I ‘disappeared’ without drawing any attention to myself and was soon back in the astral ruins looking for more. That aspect of ‘me’, likely the one that had been active before the bedbound me thought to project, kept going while the ‘me that is typing this out Wednesday around 10am in a coffee shop near home, returned to bed and the prospect of sleep.