Dancing in the Light (39 page)

Chris slid the sheet away from my torso and put two more needles into the center of my chest.

“Now breathe more light into these,” she said.

She twirled them gently. There was no pain. I waited.

“If I don’t have any pain there, does it mean I don’t have anything to clear?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “perhaps you have cleared a great deal of it, or perhaps it’s not relevant to what you’re looking for now. The body carries memories from every incarnation you’ve ever experienced, but there are many of those memories that you haven’t chosen to work on this time around.”

“And my soul remembers everything and knows what I’ve chosen to work on now?”

“Right,” she said. “To make it clearer, though, your higher, unlimited self is what knows and remembers everything. What we want to do is try to get in touch with that. That intuitive perception comes through the right brain. When you touch that, you are then working with your God self and will understand that you already know everything there is to know. Therefore,
you
are your own best teacher and your own guru, so to speak.”

Chris replaced the sheet gently over the chest needles so I wouldn’t get chilled. The cool wafts of air were coming more intensely around the table.

“All my guides are here now,” she said. “So are yours. Let’s turn on the recorder and begin.”

“Okay,” I said, “so I just lie here and relax?”

“That’s right,” she answered. “And
allow
the pictures in your mind to unfold.”

That was not easy for me because I liked to be in control of my own creative process. I always analyzed why I was thinking something. It served as a clue to my subconscious. But what she was talking about was the superconscious.

“Where will the pictures come from?” I asked, interrupting the flow immediately.

“They will come from your own higher self, your higher consciousness, your unlimited soul—whatever you want to call it,” she said. “All of your previous lifetimes of experience reside in your God self.
That
is what serves as your counselor, your guide, your teacher. You know what I’m talking about. Try to listen to it.”

I lay back and closed my eyes. I could hear the
hum of the tape recorder dangling above my head. I heard a fly buzz against the screen of the open window. A dog barked in the distance. The branches of the trees creaked in the breeze outside.

I felt my mind begin to drift away from its own consciousness. I tried to relax it into blankness, for I had learned some time ago that you don’t force anything when your goal is to be peaceful in your center.

Suddenly and with rapid speed, I realized I was seeing quick montages of pictures. It came so easily that I thought I was simply free associating. It didn’t even occur to me to say anything aloud.

“What are you getting?” said Chris. “I know you’re getting incarnational pictures because I’m getting them too.”

She startled me. I thought I was just drifting around in my own brain, but she was saying it was significant.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “I’m just seeing lots of flashes of pictures. It’s nothing. I’m just free associating. Let’s wait until something happens.”

“No,” said Chris. “Wait a minute. Something
is
happening. Stop judging and evaluating what you’re getting. Leave your mind out of this. Just get out of your intellectual way. Tell me what you’re seeing.”

“Well,” I said, “it’s sort of disjointed. Almost outrageously so. I don’t know if I can talk as fast as I’m seeing the pictures. I feel like I’d rather just look at the pictures I’m making up.”

“First of all,” she said, “you may feel that you’re making up what you see because that is the only way you have of explaining it. But you are making the pictures for yourself based on experience. Just trust that. Where do you think fantasy and imagination come from?”

“I don’t know. Yes, I do. I understand what you’re saying. I just can’t believe I’m not making this stuff up. I mean, it’s crazy.”

“Tell me what you’re seeing,” she commanded
again. “It is
not
crazy. Your higher self is communicating to you. Listen to it.”

Okay, I thought. I’ll just express what’s happening out loud and deal with it later. I was completely aware of my surroundings as I lay on the table. It wasn’t at all like a hypnotic trance. Yet I felt I was the participant and observer at the same time. It was as though I were experiencing two levels of consciousness simultaneously.

This is what happened. I voiced all of it so I would have it recorded.

The pictures came in the front of my mind as though I were watching a film inside of my own head. They had texture, sometimes smell. There were experienced tactile sensations and definitely what I would call a recalled emotional reaction.

For example, I saw myself buried in sand up to my neck, feeling intense pressure on my body. I wasn’t frightened. I was hot and unable to move my arms. Just as I asked myself what it meant, the picture shifted. I saw myself as a pirate with a peg leg, limping along a waterfront with a knapsack over my shoulder. I laughed at that image. I knew it was me, yet the image was that of a man. I remembered McPherson telling me that each of us had shared an incarnation as pirates. I wondered if that was it. And was I seeing that picture as a reminder that McPherson might be participating in this session as one of my guides? Up to that moment, I hadn’t thought of him. Immediately the pirate image disappeared.

A tall, lean Egyptian-looking woman dressed in a purple and gold robe glided toward me. I couldn’t see myself. I only saw the woman. It was my mother in this lifetime! She had a long aquiline nose and inky black hair. She was a queen of some kind, with subjects flanking her as she glided toward me. Then, as though I should associate the queen identity with those that followed, I saw an African native woman sobbing with an infant in her arms. The baby was hungry, but the mother, who was nude from the
waist up, had no milk to feed the child. Her breasts hung limp and dry. Again, it was my mother. But I wasn’t the infant. As I was attempting to zero in on who I might have been the picture changed again. A Roman or Greek athlete was running in the sun—a tall and powerful blond man—running as though in a race with his head held high and free in an exalted state of physical power. The athlete was also my mother! Suddenly I realized I was getting a rundown on some of my mother’s incarnations. They were necessary for me to see for some reason.

Another image … high priestess of some kind with an archery set on her shoulder. Her robe was orange and fell from the other shoulder. Again—my mother. So she had had several incarnations of power, if I was properly integrating what I was seeing.

The picture shifted again. The montage of images was coming faster now. I felt the cool wafts of spiritual energy intensify around the table I lay on.

I saw a crystal pyramid off the east coast of what is now the United States, only it was on land. It gleamed in the sun, but there was much more moisture in the air than there is now. The drops of moisture glistened in the atmosphere around the pyramid like a shimmering curtain. I could see the air because of the particles of moisture. I couldn’t see me, but I could feel myself breathe in the moist air which served to filter my system with each breath. Could I have been seeing the authentic atmosphere of Atlantis before it sank? Again, I felt ridiculous with my speculation. I was comfortable with believing that Atlantis had existed intellectually, but to pictorially confront what it might have been like to fee there in personal terms was difficult, even for me, to accept. Again, the doubt changed the picture in my mind’s eye.

Dark clouds and lightning clashed over the pyramid. The sound was deafening in my head. Somewhere in here I stopped talking and the needles behind my ears began to ache.

“What are you getting?” asked Chris. “Are you getting bad weather? That’s what I’m seeing.”

I opened my eyes. She was
seeing
the same pictures I was?

“Don’t let it go,” commanded Chris. “This is important. They’re telling me it has to do with abuse of power in that lifetime. Keep the image going. Trace it down.”

I shut my eyes again. The crashing storm persisted. Why was I seeing this?

“Ask your higher self why it’s showing you this image,” commanded Chris.

I did. Instantaneously I got back: “Because you had mastered the knowledge of weather control in this particular incarnation, but abused your power, you were insensitive to the consequences of your manipulation.” The words came in English but it was the thought behind the words that I felt more deeply. I had
mastered the knowledge of weather control?

My conscious mind raced to my appreciation of wild and stormy weather conditions today. To be in the center of crashing lightning, rolling thunder, and pelting rain gave me as much pleasure as anything I could think of. Could this feeling be related to a former existence?

The storm image disappeared and in its place were various kinds of craft floating in the air above a desert. They were shaped like huge flower petals with windows and seemed to be the mode of transportation for people who lived on earth. They weren’t necessarily extraterrestrial, but I couldn’t be sure. They made no sound and had no fuel. They were propelled along electromagnetic ley lines like invisible highways of energy in the sky.

I think it was at this point that I made the decision that even I wasn’t “imaginative” enough to make up what I was seeing. Somehow I was seeing reality although it was no reality I had ever consciously experienced before. I let go completely and just allowed my higher self free expression.

The next set of pictures peeled off like a sliding set of stills across a huge projector screen.

I saw myself hanging from my little finger. I felt pain in the same finger. I saw myself as a nun with black scuffed shoes (my perspective focused on the shoes). I saw a particularly horrible image of myself with a hatchet embedded across my left eye. As I lay on the table, my left eye seared with pain. But as soon as the image changed, the pain left. I could hardly voice the pictures in rhythm fast enough to keep up with the images.

“Just do what you can,” said Chris. “They just want you to see incarnational experiences that relate to what you can learn now.”

“But,” I protested, “who are
they?”

“Your guides, as well as your own higher, unlimited God self,” said Chris gently.

“Okay,” I said in frustration, “but how can I be seeing these things and still consciously carry on a conversation?”

“Because,” she said, “you are operating on two levels of consciousness at the same time and you are going to have to learn to do that for the rest of your life if you are serious about communicating what you learn. You soon will be able to channel your higher self at all times and use it in this earth-plane reality. Both are real. You will just have more dimension to your existence when you integrate the two. And this is something like what it will feel like.”

More pictures were coming now.

I saw crystal doors standing in sand—again the desert. The doors were standing like solid portals but nothing grew around them. There was no vegetation. Only stark desert. It disturbed me for some reason. Because there was no life.

Then I saw a flashback in time which I knew was prior to the desert picture. Somehow I knew they were related. The flashback picture had lush, opulent green gardens with pink and turquoise water
fountains. Gracefully lean people moved and walked along crystal walkways. They didn’t talk. They communicated telepathically. Animals and birds, similar to those we have now, scampered along the crystal walkways in and among the people. They seemed to be in tune with one another. I could feel the people playfully command the animals to do something telepathically, and the animals responded immediately. I saw one of the people walk to a tree, pick a piece of fruit, and materialize another in its place. There were buildings made of something white. I couldn’t tell what the material was. The clothing was a crystal fabric of some kind and the same fabric was used as hair decoration.

“I’m seeing some kind of extraordinary civilization,” I said to Chris. “I see crystal and lots of orange and pink hues like rainbows in the air. What is
it?”

“Ask your higher self,” answered Chris. “Whenever you have a question, address it to your God self.”

Okay, I would. In my mind I asked my higher self what I was seeing. The answer came in English as though spoken from within my own mind.

“You are seeing the civilization of Atlantis,” it said. “Very advanced it was.”

“Why does everything seem to be crystal? Why are the people wearing crystal headdresses?”

“Because,” it answered, “crystal worn on the body amplifies the higher consciousness, particularly if worn about the head area.”

I continued to observe in my mind’s eye the longest and most detailed picture I had experienced.

I guessed it was because I didn’t question it. And somehow I knew it was related to the stark picture of the dry lifeless desert previously seen. I asked my higher self what the relationship was.

“You were seeing what happened to Atlantis after its destruction. You were also seeing an aspect of the future in your present incarnation,” it said.

My heart felt as though it had stopped. I silently directed my next question to my higher self in my mind. “You mean, we are going to blow ourselves up and I was seeing the result?”

My higher self didn’t really answer. It said, “We will show you in more detail later.”

Immediately, the picture changed again. I was on a battlefield. I couldn’t make out where or when. I had a sword and some metal material around my shoulders. There was another warrior advancing toward me. The warrior stabbed me in the stomach. As I fell forward, the picture changed completely to another time period. I walked up to another warrior and stabbed him in the back. Both times the warrior was my mother!

Then I saw myself as a ten-year-old child who had been run over by a horse-drawn cart. The cart had rolled over my feet, crushing them. The feet had had to be amputated. I had learned to navigate quite easily with the stumps. I was not unhappy about my fate. I was playing in a meadow and as I looked closer, I recognized the person who was taking care of me was my father today. He had accidentally run over me and felt it his duty to devote the rest of his life to my upbringing. I felt a warm glow as I recalled this picture.