This was originally written in December 2013.
During the past several years, I have had the privilege of working with a dear friend of mine, Arn "Zingdad" Allingham, of zingdad.com. His spiritual works have influenced and resonated with me like no other.
I have awakened and healed and discovered so many aspects of myself that I truly feel I am becoming a conscious creator being, of awakening to my true self, my true nature, and living from my heart in love and self-creation.
I'd like to tell you one of many experiences I had, in June of 2013, during one of my Skype-based soul integration sessions with Arn, where he uses meditation to help reveal the origin behind deep-seated wounds. During these integration sessions, Arn does basic guiding through meditation...just someone there in the background to help 'set the stage', so to speak, and be there to guide when things go crazy and to give his insight. Then whatever happens, happens.
I've been encouraged to write these type of experiences down, so I figured I'd just do it in this blog and start with the most powerful one.
On this particular morning in June, I had just gotten back from my morning walk with my dog, Yuki. When Arn and I connect on Skype, I realize I had forgotten to take my lung-steroid medication. I seemed to have developed asthma over the last few years, and so I was concerned that I would have breathing problems during this meditation. We agree to continue anyway, with my medication in reach in case I need it.
Arn begins to guide me through the initial meditation, but before we even get half-way done, I suddenly feel as if I'm being choked to death, and I suddenly scream out, "Oh my God! He's killing me! He's killing me!" I find myself as an eight-year old boy, probably somewhere in the US countryside around the 1800s, being strangled by a man I had come to like, despite the mistrust of him by my twelve-year old brother and his warning to stay away.
As I'm being strangled, all I can do is scream out in my mind for my brother, knowing that he's just in our house. He's so close. My brother, my brother who protects me, who guides me, who loves me, isn't here. I want him to save me! Please. Please help me!
I'm screaming out to Arn to help me, who responds with, "It's okay, Scott. It's okay. Just let it be."
But I can't let it be. I feel my entire body start to become paralyzed, until the only two things I can do are breathe and talk. I continue saying, "Help me! Please help me! He's killing me...he's killing me..." But my voice gets softer and softer. Quieter and quieter. Until all I do is take in very shallow breaths.
Now I feel terrified for my own self, as Scott. My own mind is afraid I'm going to die. I can't move my body...it's frozen in its position, my left hand curled and my right hand by my side.
I whisper to Arn, "Help me, please, Arn. I feel I'm going to die. Please talk to me."
Arn repeats, "You are perfectly safe, Scott. You are not going to die. You just experienced another part of yourself going through death."
I become that eight-year old again, feeling the anguish of that ordeal, of being separated from my older brother, and lost.
"Can you guide that little boy into your heart?" Arn asks.
My mind is able to move my right foot in a continuous circle, providing real, physical sensation of my body and proof that I'm still alive. With this, I'm able to open my heart, creating love for that little boy.
I feel him in my throat area, and despite my own fears of what I just went through, of my body not being free to move on its own, I guide him into my heart and allow him to just be in that love.
I continue to breathe for a few moments, with Arn's assurance that everything is okay. My body slowly recovers, and once I'm able to move again, I suddenly find myself as the older brother, the instant he discovers his sibling's dead body in their barn.
The deepest, darkest feelings of despair and disbelief come over me, and I, as the brother, instantly know what happened and who killed him. I begin to wail as I hold his body close, the despair turning into guilt as I think about his final moments, how he probably wanted to scream out for me. And he couldn't. And I wasn't there. I wasn't there to protect him. But I warned him against seeing this man. I knew there was something wrong with him, that he couldn't be trusted. I told my brother not to go near him. Not to trust him.
These feelings became unbearable for me to take, and I got the sense that this older brother never forgave himself and carried this loss to his grave, however many more years he lived.
I don't remember if Arn asked me to do this or I just did it naturally, but I moved this older brother into my heart, and when I did, I felt the energies of the two of them reunite. And as this happened, I received an insight that, for some reason, made me laugh.
At some deep, higher level of my soul, I knew I orchestrated all of this. I came to the insight that I wrote this scenario and played the separate parts of both brothers, and, as it turned out, the perpetrator, the man that murdered the boy. All three of them were me, played out in a way to give the illusion of separation.
As I related all this to Arn, he asked me to be that man, to become the murderer. And I did. My real hands cupped around a nonexistent neck, and I felt such a rush of power as I imagined myself squeezing the life from the boy. Such amazing, awesome, power. How wonderful it felt to murder this little fuck. I had picked him out the moment I saw him. I knew his older brother wouldn't trust me, but this kid? I knew how to charm him. I knew what would work. Candy. A smile. A friendly conversation or two. I saw his horrid expression as he was dying, his eyes wide with shock. There was not a fucking thing he could do, and that just made it all the more sweeter as I squeezed even harder until he was dead.
It wasn't until late in the man's life, or even after his death, that he realized what he had done. The guilt and shame of having ripped two lives apart made him judge himself to eternal damnation, not worthy of any light. Turning away from any love, he surrounded himself in darkness and stayed there.
Why did he seek out and murder a boy?
During some prior meditations, where Arn and I were trying to integrate some other lost aspects of myself, I came across a block in my belly/stomach area. It seemed like a dark spot, a place of pain. This is where I felt that man's pain of shame and guilt. It was lodged in my sacral (stomach) area. After I went through the experience of being all three people, the two boys in my heart reached down toward my belly and told the man everything was okay, that the two of them were together again and there was no need to suffer. I sensed that the man wouldn't listen. He didn't feel he deserved love or forgiveness.
To be honest, this irritated me because I was trying to heal myself and my past wounds, and this man refusing to be healed meant I'd be in my own pain longer. That wasn't going to work. I told him he could trust me and the two boys in that he didn't have to suffer, but he basically told me to fuck off. He sensed that I wasn't interested in healing him...I was more interested in healing myself.
My initial impressions about this man were that, as a child, he was abused by his mother, especially in his early adolescent years as he began his sexual exploration. It wasn't until a few years later, during a meditation session, where I discovered his mom had been raped by either her father or her brother, and this boy was the result. She was forced to raise him on her own.
The mother hated him, since not only was he a constant reminder of what had been done to her, but that the child was a boy, and could grow up to be a monster as well. So, she ridiculed him and kept him isolated from the world. As such, he didn't have many friends, so male role models were nonexistent. His want of male companionship turned sexual, and, not surprisingly, his mother cursed him, calling him evil and bad, for having sexual desires (of any kind). He also felt he was ugly, a judgment that only got worse as he got older.
When he met those two boys, envy began to set in. The two boys had each other. The little one had the bigger one to look out for him and protect him. Plus, the older one was good looking. The man tried to 'befriend' the older boy, but the boy refused his advances, sensing his motivations weren't pure.
This rejection caused his jealousy of the older brother's love for his sibling to reach the point where he was going to make them both suffer: the younger brother by betraying his trust and murdering him with his hands, and the older brother by having him suffer the rest of his life without the one he loved the most.
In my own life, before puberty, I genuinely loved myself. I had great reverence for who I was and the body I was in. I felt a strong sense of self-realization. As I started getting picked on around sixth grade, my sense of self and love started to deteriorate. Around twelve or thirteen years old, as hit puberty hit, I began to have the same feelings of worthlessness, of hatred of my own weak body, and of want of male companionship with strong boys my own age, mostly for protection and belonging. It wasn't that I desired to have sex with them. Rather, I used sex as an escape to pretend I was like them, with them, and among them. Masturbation was the only pleasurable escape I had.
This desire turned into guilt and self-hatred as I grew older, and I punished myself by not allowing myself to masturbate from the time I was twelve to the time I was twenty, when I had had enough of not having any sexual pleasure. The psychological damage was done by that point.
When I got to the experience of being this man that took the life of a boy, Arn pointed out that his pain was my pain. That his suffering was my suffering. That didn't hit me at first. I didn't fully realize it until I allowed myself to be open to accepting that statement. To see how it felt if it was true.
So, I did. I opened myself to the possibility that the inner turmoil he went through during his life mirrored what I experienced in mine. When I did that, the truth of that came over my entire being and made it immediately apparent that it was incontrovertibly true. My suffering was his suffering, and his suffering was my suffering.
When I realized this, I accepted it without hesitation. Whereas before, I pushed my pain away from me and berated myself for ever having those feelings. But at that moment, I completely accepted them and loved them because they were the pain of someone whom I had been, of someone who felt he'd forever be in darkness. As soon as I accepted this, the darkness in my belly dissipated, and I sensed true Light flowing from it and making its way towards my heart, where the two brothers greeted it with love. The man thanked me and I saw his face smiling at me, the feeling of his gratitude and love flowing into me.
Again, I had an amazing realization in that I had done what this soul of mine had asked. The only way I would be able to heal myself of this past wound, the only way this man would allow himself to trust me and accept the light, was if, at a higher level, I would come to know and experience the pain and suffering that he had. Because he knew that I, at this high level, basically created his character to be this way, he felt it would be only fair that I understand, at the soul level, what it meant to suffer as he did. Knowledge wouldn't work...it would only take direct experience of it for him to accept that he was truly loved.
And so, before I came into this life, I apparently accepted to do this. I am happy that I was able to finally to accomplish this healing and further myself along the path to realizing myself as a whole and complete being again.
The pain is still there from time to time, but I'm far along the road of not being ashamed of those experiences and those desires. I don't judge myself much anymore for them...rather, I'm accepting them with love as they are simply my experiences, which I can use to have compassion with others who are suffering in similar ways.
On a side note, all this helps explain why I turn into an emotional wreck whenever I watch a movie or something in which a young boy dies, especially a brother. I really do feel the loss at a deep level.
2014 Update: The question that might still remain is: WHY did I choose to experience this at all? Why go through three lives of such pain and suffering? Those are very good questions. Unfortunately (or not, depending on the perspective), those weren't the only lives of mine that had immutable suffering. Seems a bit unfair, really. But I believe I uncovered a lot during my Soul Awakening journey I had with Arn when I visited him in South Africa in 2014.