What follows is the result of a series of shamanic sessions we have undertaken in the last several months.
I can’t tell you the grand purpose of these sessions, because we aren’t sure of that purpose ourselves. I can say that it certainly has to do with transformation, personal and global.
The sessions are still ongoing.
In the days following each session, I have been driven to record a ‘version’ of what transpired. I say a ‘version’ because much of what happens is nonlinear in nature, and much of it completely escapes conscious awareness.
The writings are more in the nature of channeled expositions than direct transcriptions. I believe they represent part of the ongoing process of integrating the sessions into our lives and awareness.
None of us hold that these sessions are a true history. They do contain their own truth, and they do represent a record of history. But there are many truths and many histories. Truth and history are both much more subjective than we have heretofore supposed.
I make no attempt to interpret the sessions or the writings that follow each one. And I caution the reader against making such interpretations. It is our feeling that the events and visions of these sessions are our subconscious and conscious effort to express phenomena that are intrinsically beyond third density comprehension.
While these journeys are beyond our comprehension, we believe they do form keys that are capable of opening locks and initiating an inner transformation.
This particular session is told from the point of view of the Shaman. Most of the other sessions are told from my own point of view, or multiple points of view.
The opening passages of this session have already been recorded on this site, in the post titled ‘When We Were Young.’ I saw no reason to duplicate it here.
The Gods Among Us
Even we, who had no direct memory of the times before, were aware of the changes. The sacred truths were vanishing from our awareness. And as these truths were forgotten, we grew more and more impoverished in their absence. Now we sought dominion over the Earth and over each other.
Under the guidance of Gods who were no longer our brethren, our society grew more and more hierarchical. The sacred truths once known and cherished by all, were now the coveted secrets of our priesthood, doled out parsimoniously even among them. The whole truth was known only to the High Priests and the King, and of course by the Gods with which only they could communicate.
Those of us who held any memory of our past feared for the future of our once great race. With each succeeding generation the world grew darker, until it took only a little foresight to see ahead the dawn of an age of misery and disempowerment.
It had been long since any but the privileged initiates could communicate directly with the Gods. Now even the voice of nature, the voice of the Earth itself, was lost to us. Where our grandparents lived for centuries, we now lived only a few hundred years, and our children not even half that long. And as we grew ever more impoverished, a new abomination gave us false power through the institution of slavery.
Where once we held within us the knowledge and source of our own well-being, now we knew pestilence, plague and disease. Now we looked to doctors to heal us when we were ill, and the knowledge of healing — so newly acquired — was hard won for those of us who became doctors.
Thus was I a doctor, fighting with what little understanding I had to save the increasingly vulnerable population from ever-expanding hosts of illness. As a physician, I was at least aware of how far we had fallen. While combating disease with whatever ineffectual cures were available, I knew that the true source of health, happiness and well-being lay within, where it was increasingly shrouded from the sight of men.
With my coworker and mate, Illea, I searched for some vessel who could reveal this knowledge. We saw it as the only hope for the salvation of our world. Many were the potential seers that we tested, none of whom could see much further than the nose on their face. And then one day we were called upon to attend an elderly priest who was approaching death. The man had been gravely ill, and had at last been allowed to call for a doctor. The priestly class had looked down upon doctors since Imhotep first created the profession. Even though Imhotep was a God himself, medicine was viewed with contempt by the priests, who believed their faith and communion with the Gods to be superior.
Our patient lay on a pallet in a dark and dusty room far in the back of the priests’ quarters, distant from the daily activities of the temple and the priesthood. Normally, as priests approach the end of their lives, they are well attended. They receive many visitors bearing gifts and messages they wish to pass along to those in the underworld. The priest’s chamber is kept well-lit and perfumed with spices and incense. A scribe is always on hand to write down everything the dying priest says, and these notes are reviewed daily for messages and revelations from the underworld.
Not so our priest. He was neglected and forgotten. I would even go so far as to say that he was hidden away, isolated and prevented from communicating with others. There was only a single tallow candle in his room, the smell of which blended in the stagnant air with a slight odor of decay. Instead of being attended by priests and scribes, this man was looked after by one lowly servant woman.
The priest appeared ancient beyond all reckoning. There was no telling how much of his weathered and withered appearance was due to age and how much was due to the wasting away of his disease. His breath was labored. It was clear that he expended most of his remaining energy simply holding onto life. Yet for all of his weak and tenuous condition, his eyes were alert and aware.
At our arrival, he dismissed his servant. We began our examination only to be interrupted by the patient.
“We are alone?”
“Yes,” I affirmed.
“Good, then I have much to tell you.”
“You can speak as we examine you.”
“Never mind the examination. I know my condition: I am old and I am dying.”
“Did you not call for a physician?”
“Yes, I did. But I wish only to speak to you. I have much to say, and I cannot tell anyone here.”
“Why not? Where is your scribe?”
The old priest chuckled. His voice grew stronger with every utterance. He was not as weak and ill as we had at first supposed.
“They do not want my words recorded. That is why they keep me here. They are afraid of what I will say.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I have blasphemed. I told them the gods are no gods.”
I regarded him a moment as I assessed the risk of continuing this conversation. These words were the ultimate blaspheme. We could be put to death simply for hearing them. However, something told me that here was an opportunity. We were alone; no one would overhear.
“And how is it they let you go on living?”
“I was once high priest to Thoth. And I am the oldest living priest; no one else can recall the fall. So they isolate me here, to contain my heresy until my passing.”
“Why is it you say the Gods are no gods?”
“I know them. I was more than the high priest of Thoth. Thoth was my father.”
“You were born of a God? Would that not make you a God?”
“There are no gods. I am a man. Yet all men are more than they seem. We have forgotten.”
Illea and I traded looks. I glanced toward the open doorway and she posted herself there to make sure no one overheard.
“What have we forgotten?”
“The secret of our heritage: that we are as the Gods.”
“You know this?”
“For a fact. It was kept from me for most of my life. The Gods get their power from us. They keep us in ignorance and fear so they can have power over us. Once it was known, and this knowledge was shared by all.”
“Can you tell us?”
“It is protected by the Gods. Only the pharaoh knows, and I doubt he knows the full truth.”
“But you know?”
“I have felt the truth. My father shared it with me after he and the other Gods departed this world. But what he showed me was veiled. It was only a sense of the truth and not the truth itself. The full truth cannot be received until you are prepared for it. It is like stepping out into the light of day after many days in a cave. You will be blinded unless you give your eyes a chance to adjust. I have spent much of my life adjusting my eyes. And now that they are nearly ready for the light, I am too weak to sustain the effort and bring back the knowledge for others.”
I thought about it for a moment. This old priest was just the subject for whom we had been searching.
“We need this knowledge. Without it, our world will crumble into darkness and misery!”
“That is why I was told to ask for a doctor. It was known you would respond to my call.”
“How was this known? Who told you?”
“My father told me. He knows.”
“Thoth?” I could not make sense of this. “But he is a God, and the Gods wish to keep this knowledge from us.”
“Not all of the Gods,” the old man told us. “Some want to share this knowledge and raise humanity up to their proper place alongside them. They know that in the quest for power the gods lose their true power. Even the Gods lose their godliness.”
“Then why does Thoth not just give us this knowledge?”
“We have been too long in the dark. Nor are many of us ready to begin adjusting our eyes at this point. Thoth wishes to tell us what he can, but even this light will have to be dimmed down if we are to perceive it.”
“What of all the suffering? This is our birthright!”
“We are not ready. If we could receive the full truth, there would be none to share it with. Even the encoded version with which we will be entrusted will be heard by few, and understood by fewer still. Thoth and his allies play the long game. In time, many generations from now, people will be ready for this knowledge.”
“All the suffering until then….”
“It is necessary to bring people to the point where they will open their eyes. All we can do is make this knowledge available for those who are ready. We plant a seed now, so that a great tree may provide fruit for our descendents.”
I looked at Illea guarding the door. She nodded agreement.
“Okay. Let’s have this seed then.”
“Ah, that will take some effort. We must prepare ourselves. You know the principles of energy healing and spirit communication?”
“We have to remove all of our blocks. It will probably take several sessions to do so. We have to raise our energy level to the point where we can make clear contact with Thoth.”
We made arrangements to see the elderly priest daily, telling others these sessions were to make his pain bearable, and his illness manageable. Around his servant and the others the elderly priest continued to play the part of failing health.
We saw him daily thereafter. The other priests believed we were helping him with his pain, and as he became more quiet and comfortable following our visits, they thought our treatment was effective. Every day when we joined him, he would dismiss his servant before we got to work. For the first few sessions, Illea stationed herself by the door to watch for intruders. Once we were assured that no one would interfere, she left her post at the door and took an active role.
As the elderly priest lay upon his pallet, I would place crystals upon his energy centers. Later my assistant took up this duty. Then I would station myself at his head, seated with my hands tucked under his head, touching the base of his skull at the top of his spine. From this position, I could feed energy through the length of his body, looking for blockages. If needed, Illea would take a position at his feet, with her hands on the soles of his feet, sending energy up through his legs. Other times she sat at his left side, monitoring his energy centers and the crystals.
Our first several sessions were spent in clearing the vessel so that he would flow freely with the higher frequency energy. He had particularly persistent blocks at his solar plexus, heart and throat. When we began working on him, his solar plexus was not his own. The seat of his will was dominated by his father, and he could not do anything but by the grace of this domineering figure. It took us four days to clear this block, and when we finally did so, it brought on a flood of memories and understanding.
As a child, the elderly priest had been a brilliant protégé, very powerful in his own right. Thoth taught him to be submissive and to abdicate his power to his father. He could only act through Thoth; everything he did came to him through his father.
While there was some resentment, and a great deal of regret that he had allowed his entire life to pass in acquiescence, robbed of what was truly his, the priest understood that his father’s intention was good. A new breed of Gods were in the ascendant, intent on total subjugation of the human race. If they had any hint of how powerful the priest was in his own right, they would have taken him over and used him much worse than did his father. Thoth now understood the curbs he put upon his son were too stringent; he called upon the priest to erase these blockages and stand upon his own two feet, now at the end of his life.
While there was some resentment, and a great deal of regret that he had allowed his entire life to pass in acquiescence, robbed of what was truly his, the priest understood that his father’s intention was good. A new breed of Gods were in the ascendant, intent on total subjugation of the human race. If they had any hint of how powerful the priest was in his own right, they would have taken him over and used him much harder than did his father. Thoth now understood the curbs he put upon his son were too stringent; he called upon the priest to erase these blockages and stand upon his own two feet, now at the end of his life.
Once his solar plexus was clear, we were able to open his heart and his throat in the next two sessions. From that point, the elderly priest became a free vessel for energy and information. Thoth came through suddenly and warned us that we would have to move fast from this point, as our work together was creating a brilliant light that was already attracting the attention fo the other Gods. They would act to stop us.
“I hear someone!” Illea interrupted the session. I withdrew my hands, shutting down the channel. The sudden drop in energy and revival left the elderly priest dizzy and gasping for air.
No sooner than we ended the session, two priests entered the chamber: the high priest who had questioned us several times already, accompanied by an acolyte. The elderly priest’s servant followed them at a respectful distance.
The high priest assessed the scene as soon as he entered, without betraying anything.
“How is your treatment progressing?” The question was neutral.
“He had a bad bout of pain during the night, but he is feeling better now,” I told him.
The priest regarded out patient for a moment. “Could you eat something?” There was nothing solicitous in his voice. “Imat can bring you some food.”
“Thank you, maybe later.” The elderly priest choked out the words. I intuited his concern.
“He requires a special diet right now,” I told the High Priest. “We will prepare it and Illea can bring it over later.”
“Imat can go along with you and bring it back.”
“There is no need to interrupt his duties. Illea can bring it to his servant.”
The High Priest gave in. “How much longer do you think he will require treatment?”
“That is hard to say.”
“Will he recover?”
“No. He is at the end of his life. All we can do is to make his passing easier.”
“Is he close to the end?”
“Yes, but how close is impossible to say. He could linger a few more days, or he could last a month or more.”
“Is he delirious?”
“Not as of yet.”
“Has he said anything?”
“We need to watch him, in case he begins communicating with the underworld. I think that from now on we will station a scribe by his bedside.”
“As you wish. A scribe will not interfere with our treatment.”
It was clear that the High Priest knew we were up to something. Could the other Gods have warned him? Back at our quarters, Illea and I discussed the situation.
After bringing his meal, Illea reported that the scribe was already in attendance. She offered the scribe some food, which he accepted quite gratefully. Unfortunately, she was not able to communicate with the elderly priest without being overheard. The scribe was still in attendance when she brought the morning meal, and as before accepted some food from her.
I accompanied her when she brought lunch. After the priest and scribe had both finished their repast, I did some energy work on our patient, ostensibly to ease his pain and raise his energy level. The scribe watched us attentively, writing a report on everything we did and the little that was said between us and our patient. Through subtle glances, I was able to reassure the priest that we had a plan to circumvent our observer.
When Illea brought the evening meal, she carried a separate plate for the scribe. She told his that she thought he would appreciate something more substantial than the meager fare prepared for the priest. The scribe thanked her and savored his bowl of spiced, stewed goat meat down to the last spoonful, complimenting her culinary skills when he returned the empty bowl.
When we returned several hours later, well after dark, the scribe was deep in the undisturbed sleep of the dead. The milk of the poppy had done its work.
The elderly priest was waiting for us. “I hoped I read you right.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have much time,” I told him. “We won’t be able to pull this trick more than once. So it is tonight or never.”
“I am ready. We had best do this now, while I still have the life in me.”
“Then let’s get to it.”
The priest lay back on his pallet. I assumed my position at his head. Illea placed crystals on his energy centers. Out many preparatory sessions had transformed his into a clear channel; he flowed freely with the energy I passed through him. Yet, after several minutes it was obvious that we still had not reached the proper frequency.
I had been holding back out of concern for our patient. In this exigency, I could afford to hold back no longer. The priest knew what was being asked of him. It was what he wanted and what he needed, for himself and for all. I reached into some hidden reserves of energy, unknown to me before this moment. It was more than I could bear; within a fraction of a breath, I transmitted it into the priest, until he fairly glowed in the dark chamber.
His body spasmed and he cried out. then his bowels opened and he soiled himself.
“It is too much!” Illea was concerned. “Stop it!”
“No,” I insisted. “No human dignity is spared in the face of divinity.”
The priest groaned.
“You are killing him.”
It was the priest who answered, though it was not his voice we heard. this voice was loud, deep and strong, full of energy, full of life.
“You called to me.”
“Great Lord Thoth….” I began.
“I am Thoth, but I am not Thoth. I am the oversoul of the man before you, linked to Thoth and to All That Is. I am the voice of infinity as it reaches out to cradle your existence. I am the unknowable, and I am but a representation of the unknowable as it impinges upon this moment of existence.
“Look, and know what is beyond the ability of language to communicate.” These last words were not so much spoken as they were transmitted directly into our minds.
The chamber was filled with refulgent light. This light was pure white, yet it was opalescent beyond definition of color. It was a light so pure, it sang in crystal tones. Our skin tingled and our hair stood on end. As we gazed upon this light, it entered into our bodies and into our spirits. Everything was known beyond the capacity of words to communicate. In this eternal moment of infinite expression, we knew all things; we were all things.
It was beyond the capacity of our consciousness to comprehend; we had to step beyond our bodies simply to remain in its presence. There was no alternative but to prostrate ourselves before it and surrender.
As we swooned on the edge of unconsciousness, I saw this light concentrate itself, narrowing its spectrum into a specific channel of information. It verged on physical form, and as it did so, it gave off tremendous heat that overwhelmed us.
When we regained our senses, we were lying on the floor of the chamber. The drugged scribe was nearby, still oblivious in his narcotic sleep. The pallet where the priest had lain was empty. He was nowhere to be seen. We knew without being told that his corporeal form had been sublimated. He was no longer of this world.
In the middle of the chamber was an emerald green tablet, glowing yet with the energy of its transformation. It was a physical manifestation of the information it contained, the secrets behind existence, safely encoded into allegories from which only those who were ready would ever pry any meaning.
Rising unsteadily, I looked at Illea and found that all of her hair was as white as the light that had shown upon us. From the look she gave me, I knew my hair had done the same. As soon as we were steady on our feet, we gathered the tablet and made our escape. We fled from the city that night, out into the desert, never to return.
We were given the knowledge we sought. And with this knowledge, we were given tremendous responsibility. We understood now that the majority of humanity was not ready for this knowledge. They would abuse it unto the very extinction of our species and the death of this planet, the repercussions of which would be felt to the ends of the universe, and would impoverish the existence of All That Is.
We were given this knowledge to guard, passing it along to those who were ready for it as they were revealed to us, until some far distant time when humanity would be ready for it. Many generations from now, there would come a day when humanity might perish of their own ignorance and hubris. In this distant generation, there would be many people hungry for the knowledge that we guarded, and at this time this knowledge would be the only thing that would save them from self-destruction.
Until that day, we hold this emerald tablet in our safe keeping.