I am in a chaotic and filthy place. The stench of death overwhelms me. It penetrates my being to the core. I try to get a grip on the time and place I am in, but right now I am in overload. Nothing could have prepared me for the pandemonium I am experiencing.
The noise is unbearable, I already have a headache and I have been here for just a few moments. The mud around is a mush of earth, excrement and decomposing organic matter. I just cannot believe how foul this place is – yet, there are human beings here. And some are smiling.
I am in the middle of a fierce battle involving relatively modern weaponry. The soldiers around me use heavy rifles with wooden butts. They are wearing green steel helmets and their clothes are coarse and look uncomfortable. They are half-starved, small men, their skin grey and filthy. For some reason there is a lull in the fighting, the irregular explosions and rapid gunfire subside and I get the chance to take stock.
My ears are ringing and my eyes watering from the acrid residue of cordite in the air. My surroundings are smothered in dust and mist. It softens the muddy colours around me into a sepia monotone. The artist in me wants to take a photograph, but my memory will have to suffice. I won’t be forgetting this experience in a hurry.
In the trench next to me I see two soldiers, they squat with their backs against the timber and sandbags that shore up its sides. They share a cigarette and take a breather in the unexpected and surreal stillness. I overhear their conversation.
“Jerry is laying it on thick this morning… Wouldn’t say no to a nice hot cuppa cha.”
“Wouldn’t say no to a nice lie down, in a dry, clean bed… with my girl.”
They sit in silence for a while drawing in the poisonous smoke and nicotine from their army-issue cigarettes.
“Do you reckon we’ll ever make it out of here?”
“Sure Jack, sure. Look!”, pointing into the clouds, “A flock of flying pigs.” They both laugh.
“Tell you what, we’ve made it this far, you and me. Why don’t we promise to really stick together and look out for each other from now on? We will be real muckers!”
“Corker! We might make even it back to dear old Blighty in one piece.”
Their rough, soiled hands engage in a firm handshake and they smile as the last mortar of the day finds its target, exploding immediately behind the man farthest from me.
Old Soldiers never die…
His back ripped to shreds by shrapnel, he dies instantly. His body protects his mate who collapses, concussed and wounded, but alive.
At last I recognise which of these men is my client. She is not, as I first expected, the man who died, but rather the man who survived. Traumatised, injured and scarred for life, emotionally and physically, he lies groaning in the mud calling for a medic.
As he slips in an out of consciousness I invite my present-day client to step out of his body to ease the confusion she is experiencing.
That was intense, she telepaths, crying. So much pointless destruction and death. They were so young and such good mates. What a waste of life. Am I going to die now?
No, you live to a ripe old age. Honouring the memory of your fallen mates every year, without fail.
So why are we here?
In my session room, surrounded by crystals in our present time-space, I have instructed my client to command her body to take her to the moment when the communication and relationship challenges in her present life began.
I don’t get it. What is messing up my life now, this war trauma?
Not quite, in your own way you deal with it. By the time you die you are at peace with it.
What then? I can’t see anything here that is screwing up my present life.
Think about what just happened…
Escaping death by a hair’s breadth?
What was happening before that?
I was talking with my mate.
We made a promise to look out for each other.
How do you feel remembering that promise?
Emotional. She tears up.
You made a real heartfelt commitment to each other?
Do you remember it?
No, that was a long time ago and you told me I lived a long life. I probably forgot it then.
The promise faded into a mass of uncomfortable memories for you, but not for him. For him it is still fresh.
What do you mean?
He is still bound by it. His promise to you was very clear and heartfelt at the moment of his death. So he is still keeping to it. In fact he does not realise he is dead. Your mate from the trenches has been with you ever since, looking out for you, just as he promised. He does not understand that you are now incarnated as a woman. He sees you as you were in the trenches in World War One. He is here with your permission and his presence, although loving is conditional. It creates a barrier between you and the beings who love you unconditionally. Why don’t you call on him now and explain things; release him from his commitment to you?
I sense my client is confused but she plays along with me, hesitantly…
Jack! Where are you mate? We need to talk.
Out of the mess around us the form of her dead mate appears.
Jesus, this has gone on for a long time. And they’re still hammering us. Good job we stuck together.
I’ve got some bad news…
What? Run out of bully beef? No more fags? I feel like I have been living on thin air for bloomin’ eternity. How can things get any worse than this god-awful cock-up?
Sorry Jack, but you were blown to smithereens a second after we made our promise to look after each other. And you’ve been stuck to me, looking out for me, ever since. Jack I am sorry but you are dead, your body is long gone.
Bull mate. You can’t bounce me with that crack. Shell shocked you are! Give over… He looks concerned
It is now 2012 and I am a woman. I really appreciate your help but your presence in my life is creating problems for me in my relationships. It is time to release each other from our promises. I now release you from your promise. It has served its purpose.
I intercede as Jack starts to panic. Jack I know you can see me, and that you don’t recognise me or the way I appear to you. Your mate is telling the truth, let us help you. The war is over. You can go home now.
There are tears and they embrace as we help Jack transit home to light.
As there now is nothing blocking my client’s perception of unconditionally loving beings close to her, I make a suggestion.
Why not call on the beings who love you unconditionally? It is time to meet your spirit guides…
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