A brilliant reflection glitters across the surface of a drop of blood that falls to the floor of the emergency operating room. When it hits the linoleum, it forms a tiny splash. Like art, the passion of the image of it is a protest. The crimson red aliveness of the blood seems to visually scream out against the deadness of the white. I have been pulled out of body again. This time, I am straddling the frequency of the fourth and fifth dimension. This is an Asian country. The man who is bleeding onto the floor has tried to commit suicide by shooting himself in the head and he has failed.
In the fifth dimension, you can perceive different timelines. As such, this man’s potential life paths surround me, millions of them. These potentials appear like tiny wormholes branching off from one another, all of them connected to this particular moment in time. They all pull at me softly as if begging for exploration. But I do not need to explore them. I already know that some of them lead to life and some of them lead to death.
As per usual in this circumstance, his thought form (what many call a soul) is momentarily disconnected from his body. He is hovering near the overhead lights. He is so closely attuned to third dimensional awareness that he cannot perceive me as anything more than a calming presence. It is as if no matter what I try to do, he cannot fully perceive me enough to communicate. Looking back at his body on the operating table, I see that the Mantis beings have joined us. Three of them have come as far as the fourth dimension. I love the Mantis beings. They stand about 8 to 9 feet tall and radiate with brilliant light. I call them mantis beings because they most closely resemble a type of insect on earth called a praying mantis. Those of us who spend time in between dimensions lovingly refer to them as “The Doctors”. They to assist in situations where rapid healing is required. They come most often to people who have taken shamanic medicines and who are subsequently deep in journey. Ayahuasca and Iboga seem to be the frequencies that call to them the most. I am used to seeing them put physical, emotional and mental energies back together. They have the ability to suture energy fields. They have fallen in love collectively with a state of integrity, especially as it applies to embodiment. The best way to relate to them is to observe a spider. When you pierce the web of a spider, they go to work weaving it back together again. Wherever there is a rupture in the integrity of a being or in the overall connectedness of united consciousness, they follow the discordant pulses of the vibration that is emitted by that rupture and suture it back to a state of integrity.
This time however, I am observing them do the exact opposite. With focused determination, they are using their front legs like etheric knives to rip at the energy fields belonging to this man. At first, it doesn’t feel good to me to watch. I am not connected to their intention enough to understand what is going on exactly. So I move closer, leaving the thought form of this man to the florescent bulb he is fixated upon. As the emergency room doctors work to restore the man’s body to a state of integrity, the mantis beings work to make it impossible. It is like watching an energetic tug of war. At one point, the subordinate surgeon looks up as if he can feel that something is working against his best efforts. I want to know what is going on. The desire to know is instantly met with a vibrational increase. My vibration adjusts to a sixth dimensional frequency. Doing this causes the room itself to become more quantum-like, disorderly and confused. But I begin to see images of children pop up in front of me. I watch thousands of these successive images in what would feel to a 3-D human like seconds. I have the understanding.
Born into what would be the equivalent of a middle class family in Japan, this man had what most would consider a “good life” at an exterior level. But his family was so concerned with upholding the family honor through his success that he suffered from an internal emptiness. His existence was a means to an end for his family and so he never felt loved. His internal world went unseen, untouched, unfelt and stayed invisible all his life. Of course, in his waking life, he was never conscious enough to be able to articulate what the problem was. He developed a desire for intimacy and unconditional love and yet continued to try to get it from the people who could only show him conditional love… Love that was conditional upon his success. Women only seemed to show interest in him when he appeared to be successful. Invitations would only be extended from colleagues when they saw they stood to gain by his status. His finances always went through a pattern of high and low. But no matter if they were high or low, he always felt the same emptiness. This time, in his forties, he was faced with bankruptcy. Today was the day it was clear that he was so in debt that he could not recover. He spent three hours trying to drink away the pain before deciding to end his life. Belief creates a prison of no return. He believed he could not be loved without success and now that he had failed, he would never be loved.
In life he had felt isolation. Love could not get in or out. His internal world was invisible to others and theirs were invisible to him. Belief patterns manifest as patterns in the energy field that then manifest physically. And this man’s beliefs had created a pattern in his energy field that worked like a veil of entrapment. In day to day life, we call them “emotional walls”. This veil was keeping him attached to his body. It was also keeping him from being able to “phase” with the higher dimensional perspective so as to make a decision about life or to perceive those of us who were there with him on these other dimensional levels (such as myself).
It was at the moment that I understood what was going on that I re-phased with the dimensional perspective I had come into to begin with. The mantis beings were trying to set him free. Sometimes, a rupture in the integrity of our universe is someone dying. Sometimes, a rupture in the integrity of our universe is someone living. As such, they were tearing through this veil that kept him locked and imprisoned by his own sense of singularity. Like a butterfly being set free, at a certain point the stream of conscious energy feeding into his body escaped and withdrew, the aspect of him that was bumping up against the overhead lights was sucked into the force of the withdrawal like a leaf caught in the current of a stream. He was gone from the room. The doctors worked for a few minutes more on a body as dead as plastic until they gave up. This man had gone back to source in one fell swoop. And when he went, sorrow did not linger in his wake. Instead, wholeness felt restored.
The mantis beings gathered and placed their heads so they were resting against one another. Above them, an etheric bubble began to rise. Inside of it, were the images belonging to this man who had died. As if paying homage to it, they honored the collection of these images; the things he had loved about this life. Like the way he felt when he deposited money in the bank. The smell of rain on seawater. The look of a completely clean house. Sitting down in front of an abundant and beautiful teishoku. Or the woman who had stolen his heart. It was his eulogy. After a time, it too rose towards the ceiling and vanished, offered back to the universe so as to be dissolved in the collective consciousness. The mantis beings then phased out of the room. But I stayed there. I stayed there for a very, very long time. Long enough to witness the room being cleaned and even welcoming a new patient. But this time a person who would live. I was thinking about my own life. I was thinking about my own ‘eulogy’ of sorts. I was thinking about the things I love most about this life in this current incarnation.
I was thinking about artichokes. I was thinking about the pleasure of pulling and dipping and drawing the meat from each petal. I was thinking about the velvety feel of sticking my fingertips inside the sensual whirls of a half open rose. I was thinking about running my hands across the sovereign neck muscles and silky fur of a horse. I was thinking about being bathed in the thermal glory of stage lighting with an audience of people lending their focus my way. I was thinking about the repletion of being naked and entwined in a lover’s full body embrace beneath the covers of a bed whose refuge shuts out the perpetual movement of the rest of the world. I saw my son’s face and the dimple that appears over his right cheekbone when he smiles. Like sentimental flash cards, I invited these images as they effortlessly came one by one. And I thought to myself, if life were only composed of these kinds of moments, no one would never want to leave this life. It seems that human life is made up of both the best and the worst. But it has left me wondering what I have yet to add to this image eulogy of mine seeing as my life is not yet over. It has left me wondering what would be in other people’s eulogies… What would be in yours?
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