Aside 10 Aug

39 Summers Ago

Many moons ago, my family and I took a trip to the beach. As was customary for our travels, no reservations had been made, and we always took a chance, hoping for the best when searching for somewhere to stay. It was Virginia Beach; and the region had been plagued with a severely eroding coastline. We had tried several spots before finally coming to rest at a hotel that was located directly on the beach.

 

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On the shore side of the hotel, there was a massive undertaking to pump sand on to the dwindling beach, and I was fascinated by the whole operation. I wasn’t much older than four or five and had been duly warned not to go near the pipes that were blasting sand in front of the hotel and further up the beach. It was very late and we had spent most of the evening looking for somewhere to stay. As my parents unloaded the car, curiosity got the best of me, despite numerous words of caution. Of course, I wandered down to the beach to see what was going on.

Unbeknownst to my parents, who were still trying to get our things into the hotel, I was gone in a flash! I had walked off in the wrong direction and was now perfectly lost. As soon as my folks realised I was missing, my father embarked on a frantic journey that he later said had aged him twenty years. I continued to walk, eventually coming upon two men who could only be described as hippies. It was the early seventies, and with their Doobie Brothers hairstyles and beach bum motifs, it looked as if I had landed in a really bad 1970’s sit-com. They were sitting around a small fire, with sleeping bags and a make-shift stove, talking and laughing. I remember a funny smell coming from the skinny ‘cigarettes’ they were smoking.

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I walked straight up to them and in my innocence, asked if they knew where my mom and dad were. They were very kind and asked me what hotel we were in. I instantly offered up the name of one of the many locations we had tried- of course, it was one that had no vacancy.

Hand in hand, these two men walked me down the beach to the hotel I had told them, only to find that my parents were not there. Luckily, the hotel clerk remembered suggesting another place to a man and his family earlier that night, and maybe if we checked there, we might find them. My hippies and I turned the other way and walked back up the beach to our new destination. Several hours had now passed and I was having the time of my life! My parents were distracted with worry. We entered yet another hotel from the beach-side entrance and I remember my mother’s face as she saw me cross the threshold with my new found friends. As there were no mobile phones at that time (they were as futuristic as compact discs or cable TV); there was no way to notify my father until he returned on his own. I was absolutely petrified of how angry he was going to be. I had no regard in my young mind as to the drama I had caused over the last few hours. My only concern was that I had disobeyed orders and would most certainly be punished. When he eventually returned, I saw my dad in tears for the first time in my life. He was livid, but relieved; as he lectured me as to the danger I had put myself in.

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The reason this story is so significant in my history, is that my father went in to great detail as to how I could have drowned that night. As a great little swimmer, a Pisces by sign and by nature, I never had a fear of the water, only a deep respect for and great pleasure from all it had to offer. As my father lectured on, his voice was reduced to a murmur and seemed to fade into the background as I spontaneously recalled a memory of having drowned before. I appeared to be staring off into space as my mind transported me to a place that I remembered as vividly as if I had been there the day before.

Oddly enough, as I re-experienced this part of my past, I was not afraid, nor did I equate the present night’s experience with what it meant to drown. I had unexpectedly dredged up from my extensive biography, what drowning meant to me. Getting lost on the beach did not come close to the feeling of standing outside of a temple of some sort, in a modestly embellished, full-length purple gown, watching fiery objects sail through the sky. I appeared to be in my early thirties. I distinctly recalled looking across a field at the beautiful village that held my family home. I had been frantically working inside of the temple in some sort of preparation for the impending devastation. A global catastrophe had sparked off a massive tidal wave that quickly took me to my death. As I went under the colossal wall of water, I felt the fear and sadness of going through this alone, without being able to hold my children as they faced their imminent deaths. The only thing remotely similar to this memory and my current beach adventure was that this time around I could have, but didn’t drown, and I was separated from my family. I was lost in this unexpected flashback, the first of many to come, when Dad snapped me back to the present. “Do you understand me, young lady?” was the next thing I heard.

Dad was still lecturing, not realising that I had just experienced my very first recollection in this life, of death in a former incarnation. Neither of us was aware of the significance that this event would eventually have on my future work. I knew enough at age five to know that losing me for the night had been a little too traumatic to even contemplate sharing this new insight with my parents. It was filed away and not spoken about until many years later; a habit that I had already begun to master.

Tonight, thirty-nine summers later, I took off from my hotel and walked this same beach on my own again. The research I have been doing all week at the Association for Research and Enlightenment, founded by the great 20th century prophet, Edgar Cayce, was swirling through my mind as I stood by the water’s edge. As the water lapped against my ankles, the lights of the endless string of high rise hotels twinkled behind me, while music wafted through the air from a variety of live bands playing in the many seafront restaurants and clubs.

Apotheosis is, by standard definition, the divinization or deification of man (decided by man, oddly enough). In the world according to MH, when man finally remembers that he is not seeking divine love and wisdom but already is divine love and wisdom, well, then we’re talking true Apotheosis. Picture the Christ energy; Divine into flesh, returned to Divine. Was this energy ever NOT divine? If we then, as mere mortals, are made in the image of our Creator, then are we too, not divine by nature?

As I wiggled my toes in the cool sand tonight, I looked up and smiled at the same stars that had watched me discover; remembering the true essence of my own divine nature, thirty-nine summers ago on that very same beach. It all started with a five-year old’s simple realisation that she had lived before. Life has come full circle as I delve deeper into the subject matter of my latest book, “Apotheosis”. I remain in constant pursuit of the best way to share the events of a series of lifetimes, which I hope just might inspire you, my fellow travellers on this journey, to also remember, that you already are that which you seek

Until next time… Shine on!   

 

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