The Medicine Man
A Story from Reconstructing Reality
After communing with
her beloved Venusian Nature, Shature was ready to review the next life. When she entered the domed room, she walked
straight toward her chair, but her Guide stopped her.
“You no longer need to
go up into the dome. Instead allow your
own consciousness to project the hologram.
Remember, dear, you are not limited to the portion of yourself standing
before me. Close your eyes and allow the
vision of sixth dimensional Arcturus to ignite the memory of and connection to
your completeness.”
Shature closed her
eyes and remembered Lamerius, her complete self. As united androgynous beings, they had
traveled through the vortex to Arcturus. Shature remembered the lightness of
their sixth dimensional star body and could feel the vortex in their heart. The
pod was around them and unconditional love filled her awareness. She then heard a beautiful tone that was
accompanied by a burst of light so strong that it penetrated her closed eyes.
She opened her eyes
and she saw before her a Native American Medicine Man. He stood calmly in all his pure and regal
splendor. He was magnificent. He wore a beautiful ceremonial costume made
of buffalo hide and a huge necklace of bear claws. His hair was in long braids and his face was
painted with three red stripes on each cheek and an image of what looked like
the sun on his forehead. In one hand he
held a rattle, and in the other he held a pipe.
“I am How-ta-shai. I returned to the Oversoul in the seventh
dimension at the close of my physical experience. In response to your call, I have joined you
via this hologram of your creation.”
“How did you know that I was calling,”
puzzled Shature.
“My One, just as you are observing the
vibrations of your self at a lower density, we of the Oversoul are observing
you.”
“Yes, of course,” Shature was beginning to
understand. “As much as the life I have
now is beyond the conception of my third dimensional self, the life of my
Oversoul has been beyond my conception.
Before you begin your story, could you tell me more about the Oversoul?”
“Of course, close your eyes again and
listen to my words with your heart. Just
as you have shined a light on portions of your self, feel the light shining on
you. The Oversoul is like a lake nestled
in the highest mountain peak. This lake
is filled with pristine waters straight from the heavens. Many rivers flow from this lake in all
directions, which in turn form other lakes even farther down the mountain.
“From these lakes flow
other tributaries, which also have lakes, and so on and so on, until the waters
of life have reached the sands of the great oceans. As these waters meet the Mother Ocean, they
touch the beings who swim the waters of life and call them to re-enter the
streams of their birth and gradually swim up until they are at last home safely
in the original pristine lake of their Source.”
Shature heard a tinkling of bells and
another flash of light caused her to open her eyes and turn her head. It was Rahotep, or rather a hologram of him.
”I, too, resonate within the
Oversoul. I have returned to assist you
in understanding what How-ta-shai has to say.”
He walked over and joined the medicine
man. Shature saw before her the
projection of two very powerful higher vibrations of her total being. She looked around to find her Guide and
discovered that he was, again, gone.
“You are doing fine, my child,” she heard
inside. “Seek for guidance inside
yourself now. Remember, we are together
in the Oneness. If ever you want me, all
you need do is call me and I will respond.”
Shature almost felt sorrow at his loss,
but she could not hold the vibration of that emotion in her expanded self. In fact, she was no longer just Shature. She was again Lamerius, because the high
vibratory rate of the room instantly called in Lamire.
“Lamire, you are with
me again,” she smiled.
“I am always with
you.”
Rahotep and
How-ta-shai smiled and said, “We are all
projections of the same Oversoul and we are complete within the Oneness. The portion of us labeled Shature is allowing
her consciousness to expand to the conception of more than one reality. You are awakening your multidimensional
consciousness.”
Shature started to
feel proud, and again found that she could not resonate to that feeling
either. She realized that she was having
the memory of pride just as she was having the memory of being as Shature. She understood what Rahotep and the Medicine
Man had said. She now held in her
consciousness all the realities that she had reviewed.
She was on Atlantis,
in Faerie, England just after the fall of Atlantis, 13th century
Italy, 20th century Poland, and 19th century England, the United States and
ancient Egypt. She was on the shores of
the red cliffs of Venus, and she was a star-being on Arcturus. Within the ever-present NOW, she embraced all
that she had relived. She felt her form
expand until at last she was without form.
She was a speck of light within an infinite ocean of radiance.
Slowly, she began to
constrict herself and her radiance pulled into itself. She pulsated it out again, and it became
stronger and brighter. She experimented
with the inflow and outflow of her emanation until she gradually returned to
the hologram of Shature. Yes, she too
was a hologram. She was a projection of
form from the Source, and no matter how many different projections there were,
they were all from the same Source.
Gradually, her
perception returned to the domed room and How-ta-shai standing before her. Rahotep had left his hologram of form and
returned to the Oversoul, but she felt his presence within her along with the
others. She smiled and How-ta-shai
smiled in return. The glint in his eyes
showed the radiance of all creation.
How-ta-shai was seated down with his legs crossed and gestured for Shature
to do the same. As soon as she sat, a
small fire manifested between them and a teepee surrounded them. Shature stared into the fire and waited for
How-ta-shai to begin his story.
“I will speak to you
first of the death of the part of us once known as How-ta-shai,” spoke the
Medicine Man. “As I speak to you, close
your eyes and see the story as I tell it.
Listen to me with your heart and hear my truth. It is the tradition of our people to teach
through storytelling, and I wish to share that tradition with you now.”
How-ta-shai began to
shake his rattle and softly chant while the teepee filled with memories. He pointed to his right and there, on a
rough mat, was a withered old man on the verge of starvation.
“This is how I looked
at my death. My people were defeated and
we were imprisoned inside a white man’s fort.
We could not see our beloved plains, hunt buffalo, or have our sweats
and sacred traditions. We were a conquered
people.”
How-ta-shai turned his
focus from the fire that he was staring into and looked Shature straight in the
eyes.
“Do you see the theme
of the realities that the Oversoul has chosen for you to view?”
“Yes,” responded
Shature. “They are societies, or me, in
transition and the fear that comes with change.”
“Yes, we of the
Oneness have focused our collective consciousness into you so that you can be
our representative on the third dimension.
The Earth that you will re-enter is on the verge of a great transition,
which will affect that entire multi-dimensional universe. We, the many lives you have viewed, had at
one time perceived ourselves as failures.
That memory resonated
in our collective consciousness. You
assisted and healed the realities that had not achieved spiritual
awakening. Those of us who had learned
to connect with our higher selves while we were incarnated were able to heal
ourselves and return to our higher vibration.
I tell you now of my own frustration while incarnated so you can see
that even failure is a success if we can integrate with Spirit.”
“But why have I been
chosen to be the representative?” asked Shature
“Your reality of
Shature in Atlantis represents the initiation of our Oversoul into the
limitation and separation of the third dimension. It was also a life in which
you connected with the grid of light that surrounds planet Earth. You will be called upon to again consciously
connect with this energy grid when you re-enter the third dimension. But allow
me now to return to my story. We who
have been able to rise above the limitations of the physical world wish to
instruct you by sharing our experiences.
“As I have said, we
were a conquered people and all of my spiritual strength and insight could do
nothing to stop our fate. There was one
small victory that I was attempting to achieve.
I wanted to make the Bluecoats allow us to pitch our teepees outside of
the fort where we could at least see the plains and the rising and setting of
the sun.
“There were only old
men, like myself, and women and children left.
The few warriors who were alive were injured or imprisoned in the
Bluecoat’s iron house. If we could
achieve just one small victory, then perhaps we could keep our Spirits alive
until a better day.
“But let me begin my
story at a happier time.”
How-ta-shai pointed
now to his left and there was a small boy rubbing the sleep from his eye as he
arose from his skins.
19th
Century United States
This young boy was born to be a
warrior. As soon as he could walk, he
remembered wanting to ride a horse. If
his mother didn't watch him, he would run off to where the horses were penned
and try to walk among them. Remarkably
enough, he was never hurt. Many times,
he would escape the eyes of the adults who were watching him and run to the
horses. Once they realized that he wouldn't
get hurt, they let him do so. Perhaps he
thought he was a horse instead of a ‘two-legged.’ Or perhaps he just cherished the horses’
power.
As everyone suspected, he
became an excellent horseman, and everyone knew he would be a brave warrior
until the most unexpected thing happened.
He fell from his horse. In fact,
he was sure an invisible force had pushed him.
He was thirteen and on his first buffalo hunt. He was feeling like a man, but not acting
like one because he thought he was better than the horse; he was the
hunter.
This pride got him in
trouble. He wasn’t respecting the horse
or the buffalo, and when the horse moved quickly to the left, he moved to the
right. He was so caught up in the act of being a ‘man’ that he behaved like a
small boy and forgot his very first lesson.
He and the horse were one. And so, in his arrogance, he fell from the
horse, right into the path of a raging buffalo.
Worse yet, he fell onto his
shoulder and his right arm lay limp at his side. He grabbed his spear with his left hand and,
just as the Spirit had pushed him from the horse, the Spirit led his arm true
and struck the buffalo with his spear.
The giant animal did not die with one stroke, but he stumbled. This gave the boy time to jump up and run to his
horse, which waited for him in spite of the great danger.
With his remaining good arm, the boy pulled himself on to the horse's back and rode to safety. The other hunters had witnessed this scene and released the buffalo from life. The young hunter had struck the first blow on a mighty buffalo, and he was a hero. However, he realized, as his spear arm lay limp at his side, that he would never be a warrior.
With his remaining good arm, the boy pulled himself on to the horse's back and rode to safety. The other hunters had witnessed this scene and released the buffalo from life. The young hunter had struck the first blow on a mighty buffalo, and he was a hero. However, he realized, as his spear arm lay limp at his side, that he would never be a warrior.
His shoulder healed much
quicker than his heart. He recovered
most of the movement of his arm, but he could not throw a spear or use a bow
and arrow. Finally, he learned to use
his arm well enough to hunt, but he did not have the strength to go into
battle. And so he brooded. His life was over. He was not a warrior. He was barely a
man! How could he live with this
handicap?
He was useless. His life was over before it had a chance to
begin. He wandered around supposedly on
hunting trips, but he had no heart for hunting.
He didn't even enjoy riding his horse.
He would have to leave the tribe.
He had nothing to give and it was selfish for him to stay. He did not know where to go. He only knew he had to leave.
One morning, before dawn, he
gathered a few things and slipped out of the teepee before anyone else
awoke. He headed due west, away from the
rising sun, and away from his dreams. He
did not know where he was going, or why.
He didn't care. For days and
days, he walked. He hadn't brought his
horse, as a warrior needed it and he had no right to take it with him.
After many rising and setting
suns, he came into a territory that was new to him. By the end of the second
moon cycle, he was lost. Of course, he
wasn't lost in the sense that he couldn't go home; but he was lost in that he
had no idea where he was or what he would experience next. He was not afraid. Nothing worse could happen to him. Maybe if he could lose his past, he could
find a future.
In the distance, he saw a high
cliff and decided he would climb to the top to seek his vision. He buried his
provisions at the bottom of the cliff, as he would need no food or comfort, and
began his climb. The way to the top was
very steep, with loose gravel and little to hold on to.
After nearly falling several
times, and wishing he had a man’s strength in both of his arms, he finally
reached the top of the cliff as the last rays of the sun were setting below the
horizon. He found a small niche in which
to sit and curled himself up to wait.
The night grew colder and colder, yet he hardly noticed. He vowed that
he would not move until he had received his vision. With every hour, he drew deeper and deeper
into himself. By dawn, he was in a deep
trance.
Gradually, a storm began to
gather about him. It seemed to echo the
storm that raged within his soul. The
weather became colder and colder, and the wind grew icy. He knew that soon it would be the first
snow. It had been many moons since his
injury. The plains and the pain of his
wasted life seemed far below him now.
From his perch on the cliff, he felt like he was a part of the growing
force of Nature, and less and less a part of his physical body.
As the wind whipped about him,
he could feel his Spirit being tugged by it.
He wished to fly like the wind and roar like the thunder and be free
once and for all of the limitations of his wounded body. His anger and disappointment filled his heart
and mind, and he wished to leave the clay prison of his body.
“’Grandfather,” he cried to the
howling wind. “Take me with you!”
He surrendered to the pull of
nature’s storm, and, with a flash of lightning, he was pulled out of his
body. He looked down and saw a small
empty form clinging to the side of a cliff and could vaguely remember it was
he. He took to the wind like a
bird. His Spirit knew no limits, and the
turbulence in the air only added to his excitement. He didn't know where he was or where he was
going. He didn't care if he ever
returned to that small shell.
He was Home now. He was the wind and the sky that held it. He
was lifted higher and higher away from where, and whom, he once was. He seemed to lose consciousness for a moment,
and when he awoke, he found himself on the plains. He was alone except for one buffalo that was
as white as snow.
“They are coming to kill us!”
it said. “They will gain power over you by killing us and there is nothing we
can do to stop them.”
With these words, the buffalo
turned and walked away.
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DEAR READERS,
I INVITE YOU COULD SHARE A BIT ABOUT YOUR "OTHER" INCARNATIONS THAT HAVE COME INTO YOUR 3D AWARENESS...
YOUR SHARING WILL ASSIST TO MAKE ASCENSION NORMAL!
Prepare for the NOW by reading the books:
(Note about Book 4 of the Pleiadian Perspectives on Ascension)
Book 4 was twice as long as the others, so we have split it into two books so you can better absorb the information. If your book 4 is 400 pages, you have the old version, so you have the full ending of the series. However, if your book book is about 200 pages, please stay tuned for Book 5, which is "Changing Realities."
Thank you.
