 Today's journal entry comes from a past life memory that surfaced while on a walk. The full image for this post will be in the below the fold since it's vertical.  I've been taking a lot of walks lately rather than hikes. It's just easier to do. I can go out my door, pick a direction, and easily fid myself a couple of miles down a scenic street filled with oak trees and little neighborhoods. The expediency seems more important these days.
This sketch came as a result of one walk the other day. I'm not sure what triggered it exactly, but I was walking down the street and suddenly see this Moroccan lattice pattern in my mind. Then I see the lantern hanging from the ceiling, the sheer curtain behind the lattice. I'm looking into a room where there's a stone dais and a sultan sitting on it. There's a knowing of what I should be smelling, but I can't actually smell it at the time. I know I should be smelling hookah pipes, cardamom, and that awful perfume the sultan used to wear. I hated that perfume almost as much as I disliked the man himself. For the most part, I disliked him because it was an arranged marriage and all the other wives thought I was weird. We'll get into that in a minute. There were other images that surfaced later in the walk from another time. Images of primordial Earth where the volcanic activity is so strong, the beach I'm walking on is lit by fiery red light and so is the sky. There's a wild, but completely empty, jungle on my right that crawls right up to the beach. It's empty, because we haven't put any animals there yet. And I see for just a second the embryos we're growing in a substrate (not a pod exactly, but something like a gel substrate in a large, shallow tank). Then I keep coming back to the beach and the fire and the sunset and the jungle. The waves that look like black ink. This image swallows me more than the sultan image, and I end up seeing the waking world and the past world at the same time while I'm walking. Eventually, it stops and I come back to myself. When I return, I want to draw the lattice and the lantern. Not so much the sultan, which is why here he is not shaded and the sketch feels "unfinished". It's meant to. As I sat down to draw it the next day in the afternoon, I found I was shaking rather badly. There was nothing in particular to cause the shaking. I'd had no emotional upset. The thought and the memory was not consciously upsetting me. I didn't feel any emotions. But here was my hand shaking so badly I couldn't channel the energy through cleanly. I got as far as starting the lantern before I gave up for a little while. Instead, I found I really needed dinner even though it was only 4 pm. I had leftovers that were grounding foods (carrots, potatoes, chicken hearts), and I inhaled that, found I was still incredibly hungry. I ate a couple of dinner rolls from a restaurant, and then felt better. I wasn't shaking anymore, but I don't think it was low blood sugar. I know what that feels like. This was something energetic trying to break loose. Anyway, shaking stopped. I resumed my drawing and found I could channel things clearly. It's funny, because as I was drawing, I could feel 'Yanna watching and she was gently asking me questions. Weird things started to channel through as I was answering her. I'm focused on the paper and executing the drawing, but find I'm suddenly remembering all sorts of details about that life. That I was the third wife of this sultan. That it was an arranged marriage, and I was the "priestess" wife. That the other wives didn't like me and I didn't like them. They thought I was weird. And even as I told her all this (out loud to myself, telepathically to her), I started to channel their voices. Quoting them. Saying all the things they would say. All the gossip. So much gossip. I start to get lost in the drawing and the voices and the memory; not precisely reliving it but more like doing a stage play of it. In this particular memory, I've snuck behind the lattice to listen to the sultan consult with his vizier. I'm not supposed to be there, it's forbidden for women to listen to men talking, but like hell I'm going to obey that. They are discussing their favorite warlord, Salim, who is also a man I'm really in love with at the time (hello, Seraphel). They want to honor him, but the sultan is not sure how to do it. That's all I remember of this specific memory... In other news... I did something maybe courageous. I went and got another piercing on my ear all by myself. I didn't do it just to be courageous. when I re-pierced my earlobes back in July and I came home and looked at myself in the mirror, I suddenly realized there was another piercing that needed to be there. Up on the outer curve of my ear should be a little gold ring on both sides. But I didn't want to do that while the earlobes were healing. One at a time is best. So, the other day, I went down to the tattoo parlor where I went before and got the outer curve of my ear done. It hurt. Quite a bit. The piercer used a hollow needle to create the hole, and then put a flat-back stud in while it heals. I've hurt myself way worse just stubbing my toe, and I know my body well enough to know how to get it to calm down when it experiences a bit of pain. Besides, there are worse things than piercing needles. Like dental drills. (Please no! Never again!) Right then, so I'm looking at 4 weeks before I go back and have the stud resized (they put a longer one in at first for swelling), and then probably several months before I get to have the little rings like I want. Interesting experience when I went. While I was there, the man who did the piercing was very subdued. Respectful. Even a little tongue-tied like he didn't know how to interact with me. Last time I was there he was very chatty, but then I had my ex-husband with me at the time. This time I was alone. Anyway, subdued. Almost reverent. He spoke in a very soft and quiet voice--like the kind of voice you use in a library. I daresay he was perceiving what we were doing as something sacred. And in a way, it is. I am matching myself with myself. Matching perception with reality. So, that is sacred. One last thing for this post. Synchronicities in the last 10 days:
I thank you for your time. Adiamas. --Kyriel Comments are closed.
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