The countryside flows by so fast that the eye cannot settle on anything to look at. The movement of this European train makes the outside look like a river of landscape or like a Van Gough painting perhaps. After seeing this, I find myself reflecting on the movement in his paintings. It makes me wonder if he ever really settled into life on earth or if he spent his days merely passing through life.
I am on European tour again. This time I am stopping in Paris, Amsterdam, England, Dublin, Luxembourg and Basel. The last time I was in Paris was the day after the 2015 Paris terrorist attacks occurred. I expected to find Paris restored to its original ways but I find the city much changed. Fear hangs in the air in the city still. I have never seen more police and military officers there before. Paris is not alone in this way of being. Since being here I must admit that Europe in general feels incredibly unstable right now. It is caught in a state of guarded uncertainty.
The last two days were spent in the countryside of France. Yesterday, we visited a medieval castle called Chateau de La Roche–Guyon. For me, visiting historical sites can be like eating a cream filled doughnut… You know better than to do it, but it tastes so good you end up doing it anyway and regretting it later. As a ‘sensitive’ the density of these ancient thought forms is destructive to the subtle matrix of the energy body. It is a bit like heavy poison. I find places like that so utterly fascinating that all of myself is gripped into the experience. But as the minutes go by, I feel weaker and weaker, more and more horrified by what was considered “normal” back then. For an extrasensory, these places are still fully alive with the practices that once took place in them. When it comes to medieval castles this means beheadings and dark religious rites and torture and public defecation and imprisonment in dungeons and complete unconsciousness. Human life did not hold the same value then that it does now. Human life was expendable.
These places are also alive with the people who were the most identified with them. We had the thought form of a gamekeeper from the 1600s following us through an entire wing of the place. It was lurking around the stairway stretching from the main building to the tower.
Coming from a lawsuit happy country, I am both terrified and thrilled at the lack of restriction that exists in many other countries. To reach the tower, one has to climb a seemingly never-ending vertical staircase that is chiseled through the limestone, like a white cave going straight up. There is a metal handrail in the center that you literally have to use in order to not fall backwards. I could not believe it was open to the public. In America no place would risk the potential law suit of someone inevitably injuring or killing themselves by slipping while going up or down it. I really wonder how many people have hurt themselves or died there over the years. Alas, because we were not in America, we made our way up it, huffing and puffing from the exertion. Vertigo hit me so hard I felt weak in the knees. It was that same off-kilter feeling I get in so many of my nightmares that involve heights.
Exiting the cave-stairs you can see the tower above you with a barred window on its left side, exactly like the one depicted in the old story of Rapunzel. It is not hard to imagine what life would be like, imprisoned in that room. When you climb to the top of the tower, miles of French landscape unfold before you. The architecture below, the spires of the castle, the courtyards and the gentry manors below, have not changed with time. The sound of the homing pigeons that were kept there still exists in the present day. The sound itself has become a ghost. It is a pleasant sound to behold.
I managed to get myself stuck in a hallway where the only way out was to pass by the castle crypt adjacent to the 2 religious halls. Now it remains open and empty of bodies, but in no way empty of emotion and projection. It has the energy of a cavern where coveted jewels are kept safe, but jewels that terrify and afflict people with the feeling of mortality and loss. The impression you get of the rawness of life back then is brutal against the bones. It makes you feel sore and heartbroken underneath the fascination that compels you forward.
Often a soul stream will incarnate over and over in a certain way or at a certain time or place in the universe if the experience available to that perspective causes the kind of continual expansion that the soul stream is looking for. For example, a being may project forth into third dimensional life as an insect over and over again during the cretaceous period on earth. Because of the type of expansion available to me at the time, the soul stream that I belong to projected itself forth over and over again as a human in Europe from the 1200s to the 1600s. This expansion is part of the reason I opted into European genetics this time around again. In fact, I chose to come into Genetics in this life that are the direct result of people who I actually 'was' in the past. Let’s hope that means that my current perspective is an improvement upon who I was then. I was particularly interested in the perspective of Gentry… Both the freedom and imprisonment inherent in positions of leadership and nobility.
Having lived so intently over that period of time, it is now the time period most familiar to me somatically. I have this problem any time I visit Europe and find my way back to these old castles and manors. They immediately feel more real to me than the life I am currently living. It feels as if I have awoken from a bizarre dream, but the bizarre dream is this life as Teal Swan. I feel disoriented for the remainder of the day after stepping back into them. I relate to them all so strongly that the memories that live there are echoes of my own memories.
My first on-stage appearance is tomorrow in Amsterdam. I am not looking forward to it with as much zeal as usual. This year, I have had more people turn against me than ever before, and aggressively so. I expected this opposition to happen because it is the nature of the career I have chosen. But what I did not expect is that this opposition would come from so close to home. I did not expect that people who I considered to be 100% trusted friends and even family would turn on me and join the opposition.
Think about it this way, if you and your friend or co-worker have a big disagreement that makes you feel hurt by them in some way, you have nowhere to go to get validation for the way you feel and confirmation about your perspective. But when people have disagreements that make them feel hurt by me (or any celebrity really), they do have somewhere to go to get validation for how they feel and confirmation about your perspectice. They can go to the people who already publicly say that I am a horrible person. My haters will justify and validate the way anyone feels about me as long as it is not in favor of me. In fact, they will fuel it.
And I have learned the hard way that I cannot do anything to create repair once they turn against me because they adopt a certain perspective. They see me through the lens of “evil” and everything I say or do will be filtered through it. I am damned no matter what I do. Everything will simply be converted into proof that I am what they have decided that I am.
When people are opposing you, especially those who you took far into your heart, the natural inclination is to withdraw, close up and not extend yourself towards the world anymore. I feel unwanted in the world because of how much louder and dedicated the minority is with their hate than the majority is with their love. And yet I know that I am like a racehorse. The minute their hooves touch the track, they are in their element and the rest is merely the bliss of instinct… The peace of doing exactly what they were designed to do. And I know that the minute I can get face to face with someone who is in a place of questioning or struggle, I will snap into this place where nothing exists except for them and me. A place where we are concealed in a vortex of my obsessive passion for this work and my true purpose.
Anonymity has a sweet texture to it. Too much of anything is a poison. Too much anonymity is a prison of insignificance. Too much visibility is to be a target on display in a world full of weapons. And I am sore from the arrow points today.