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In one session I lay down on a simple mattress in Mara’s room. She sat behind my head on a pillow ready to transcribe whatever surfaced in my mind’s eye. Once the breathing rhythm had brought me down to a deep enough level a clear scene began to unfold.
The ‘me’ I witnessed in that session was a young, possibly Aztec, princess. In the ‘memory’ I was the second daughter in a royal family. I was terribly jealous of my older sister who I felt received all the status, glory and admiration. There was a man in the community who lingered in the shadows. He was known for his involvement with dark magic. I sought him out and secretly began to work with him and a small group of others. Because of my royal status this group treated me as important and gave me the veneration that I craved. The energies we worked with were electrifying and mysterious and I was quietly thrilled with the path I found myself on.
One day the man told me that if I would steal the sacred emerald from my father’s (the king's) sacred chamber the balance of power would tip in our favour. It was the key through which the dark energy we danced with would be able to penetrate and saturate our society. With its force working for us we would become the leaders of our world and I would become queen.
The giant emerald was the most precious object in our empire. Stealing it would mean betraying my family, my ancestors, and my entire culture. I didn’t care. So enthralled by the shadowy world I had encountered, and the idea of being queen of it, I took the stone from its resting place and delivered the powerful jewel, so big that it barely fit in my hand, to my dark man.
When our group gathered for the ceremony that would turn the tides in our favour and see us rise above all else, our greedy, cold hearts trembled with anticipation. When the emerald was placed on the altar the energies began to swirl, at first like a gentle wind, but quickly they gathered and grew. As they expanded I began to see them for what they really were. No longer veiled in entrancing smoke and mirrors, I saw the true horrific depth and immensity of their wicked, depravity. What had I done? When I looked to the others I saw they were equally as shocked by the reality of what we had unleashed into our world.
At that point I started to pull out of the vision. I began to cry. I felt overcome with shame and disappointment in myself. I wanted to right the situation. Initially it occurred to me that the now polluted, corrupted sacred emerald would need to be destroyed. Then in my mind’s eye the emerald appeared in my heart space between my breasts. As a symbol of my heart I knew I couldn’t just destroy it. It came to me then that I would have to lovingly heal the energy in order to purify it and restore it to its original state. It would take time, but it could be done. The key was not to destroy the evilness, but to transmute it.
I soon became proficient at accessing these types of stories. They felt like memories, in that, like the story of the kingdom with Chad, as I explored them, they seemed to have their own truth, which I was not creating, but perceiving; like reading a story rather than writing it. Whether or not they were actually past life memories seemed irrelevant. The important thing was what they taught me about myself and my world; they became useful frameworks for understanding aspects of my psyche.
As a note of interest, while I was writing about this story I decided to look up whether emeralds were significant to the Aztecs. To my amazement I discovered the Isabella Emerald, also known as the mystical ‘Emerald of Judgement’. The sacred jewel had been presented to Cortez by Montezuma II, the King of the Aztec Kingdom. It was then named the Isabella Emerald in honour of Queen Isabella of Spain. This enormous, 964 carat gem was described as being ‘so large that it would fill the palm of her hand.’ The ship carrying this emerald to Spain from the New World sank as it travelled over the Bermuda Triangle. It was lost for over 200 years until it was re-discovered in 1992.
Some people believe that it is all made up. I always say that for me it doesn't really matter. I have no doubt that my soul's existence reaches far beyond the little me called Christy lavers in this body. What is important is that these stories teach me to understand myself and the complex nature of being a bit better.
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In this state, I felt like I became a formless being shaped a bit like a cloud, with a multitude of filaments that stretched out in all directions, and connected me to a massive web that seemed to encompass everything. Years later I would see images of neural networks that reminded me of the visual that accompanied this state.
In this space I felt whole, and more like my true self. When I wanted to, I could choose to follow any one of the filaments. As I moved my awareness from the core of my being out into one of the strands that extended from my centre, I found myself becoming absorbed into whatever unfolding information that particular strand contained. The filament I would be drawn to always seemed to contain the ideal details to enhance and expand whatever idea I was investigating.
In this state, daily reality seemed like such an incomplete picture, just a tiny slice of the whole. I remember exploring the concept of reincarnation from there and feeling amused by the crude way we explained it as humans. From that perspective, where there was no time, no space, no solids, or boundaries, the human version of reincarnation seemed like a simplified explanation, a rudimentary story used to express a complex idea to children.
In that space I was not Christy, I was an energy expression, or, more specifically, a particular frequency. There were elements arranged in every moment that defined who I was; but I flowed and changed, and no single element could be defined as me. I could never really be captured.
I saw that, when a physical framework was imposed on energy, a temporary image of solidness could be conveyed that allowed for a temporal understanding. Physical existence was a structural framework, and from our own personal reference point within this framework, we could see the world in a relatively static fashion.
It seemed that, from this perspective, Christy was an interface, an alchemical reaction, between a unique essence that we might call a soul, and the particular arrangement of qualities (the costume), that this essence expressed itself through.
When I looked at reality from an expanded lens of linear perception, a viewpoint that stretched beyond one life, I could see how a developing soul moved through a series of ‘costumes’. Each costume allowed the soul to undergo a particular set of experiences that imparted learning and growth.
But without the lens of linear perception, which al-lowed events and experiences to be organized in a sequential pattern, all the expressions and aspects existed simultaneously within a flowing, shifting ocean of possibility, and all the elements, essences, flavours could be reduced, until they became one; infinite expressions of one. It was amazing.
I found these fluid ethereal nuances difficult to bring back and anchor into my human understanding. Sometimes the jolt of my awareness shifting from the state of expanded consciousness, back to being focused in my physical body, lying on my bed, in my little room, was frightening. It made me question who I really was, and which focal point was more real.
