“I am under the earth. It’s dark. I can’t see anything.” Her voice is tentative, not quite scared, but the note of approaching discomfort is audible with a finely tuned ear.
“Are you in a coffin, or is it just earth around you?” I enquire, trying to get my bearings so I can help her.
“It’s earth… and… oh no! There are bones all around me!” Her distress is now evident and I have to get to her quickly to put an end to the trauma.
“Do you sense you are in a body… or are you outside the body?”
She is certain she is outside the body, in spirit form. But she is stuck there, underground.
A sigh of relief escapes me. Now we have something to work with.
My client and I are deep in a Life Between Lives Regression session, and she is connecting with a part of her consciousness, under deep trance, that holds these memories, feelings and images.
This is the third day in a row that we are spending together in my clinic space, doing healing work on her body, mind and soul. Each day we have gone deeper into her energy field, her subconscious mind, breaching the unconscious, and we are now at the threshold to her superconscious mind. That is the realm to set one’s course for to discover what a soul is up to in between incarnations. It transcends the personal – the stories of our lives – and delves into the transpersonal – that which we all have in common: our archetypes, myths, deepest fears and brightest hopes. That which weaves humanity together with invisible threads.
I take a guess that my client has arrived in a past life scene here, but after the physical death took place, and her soul cannot move on. Unusual, but not unheard of.
However, it is not in the order of things for a soul to hang around outside of a body for long (I suspect this is what we call “ghosts” in popular culture), so I get to work on ways to bring her soul back Home to the light.
I work and I work, inviting her to rise up to the light, calling guides to help, invoking the part of her soul that is always connected to the world of souls… and yet she stays underground. Even as she tries to move upward, a part of her soul energy pulls her back there so strongly. She feels frozen there, in deep trauma. She will not move. That is not usual at all.
Then we start to discover what put her underground. Flashes of scenes come to her. It is the Holocaust, and along with her dead body, there are thousands below the earth. A subterranean sea of discarded bones.
The human beings to which they belonged were skeletal before dying already, so it has not taken long for the soil, and all its tiny living inhabitants, to reveal the white of the bones below. And it is amongst those skeletons that my client’s soul energy is frozen stuck, in deep despair.
More flashes come now from the moments prior to death. It is so, so, so painful for her. She filed into the concentration camp with her little daughter. They were sent to the left by the camp guard, and that led them to the gas chamber. So many of them in there, naked and petrified.
When she smelt the sweet scent of the poisonous gas seeping in, she laid down on top of her daughter to save her, to block out the toxic vapours. And in that mother’s last-ditch and desperate attempt to save her child, she smothered her daughter to death. Thankfully, she did not know this when her own body died from the poisonous fumes, but she sees it now, vividly, from her disembodied perspective.
She can barely speak as she tries to tell me this, her voice breaking with every few words.
She saw her daughter’s soul leave –before the other souls along with her own got stuck underground with the terrible trauma of this mass execution. My heart is pounding loudly as I come to understand that there are thousands of them there below the earth, in this unholy pit of a grave.
“Ceremony” I hear in my inner ear. “It is time for ceremony.”
So since nothing else could move her from that place, I step out of my role as a regression hypnotherapist and into that as a minister. I already secured my client’s permission to work in any healing modality that would serve her soul, and with one more week till my Ordination at the OneSpirit Interfaith Foundation in London, I am as close as it gets. The title of Reverend Marcus is just a formality to follow the two years of spiritual journeying to this point. I tell her this: “I am a minister, and I consecrate this burial ground.”
A jolt goes through her as if someone had suddenly roused her from deep sleep – I sense the frozen trauma in her body and soul begin to shake and vibrate: we are on to something now!
I cannot quite contain the emotion in my voice, but it does not matter as it is pouring out straight from my heart, in complete alignment with my calling as a healer in this lifetime:
“I call upon all that is sacred. That which is beyond all understanding. That which preceded the split into good and incomprehensible evil.
In that name, I consecrate this ground. I consecrate this earth.”
My client is shifting visibly in her chair and her face is like a river of different expressions all flowing into one another. The very illustration of emotions thawing after a long and hard winter of trauma.
“I won’t leave till they have all been saved…” she is clear and adamant, and I understand completely. It is beautifully altruistic: a thousand souls saved for the one life she could not rescue – that of her daughter in the gas chamber…
“There are legions of angels coming down to help you all rise above the ground, and see you all safely home.” We are completely attuned to each other, as she exclaims “Yes! Yes, I see them – so many angels…”
“Further than the eye can see,” I offer, and she confirms: “Angels further than the eye can see.”
We are in deeply sacred territory now, far from the profanity of the unconsecrated mass grave. And with shafts of light all around from the angelic beings that have come to help, my client still waits to rise, as she travels underground to check on all the bones there. She wants to make completely sure that all the souls will be released from this place, so the bones can rest peacefully in the now consecrated ground. She sees how every freed soul rises upward in a golden bubble, and she moves swiftly through that dark soil, again and again, like an a ethereal earth worm, feeling, sensing, checking on the fellow souls who shared her destiny.
I cannot quite believe what is happening with my rational mind, but the impact of it is written all over my client’s face. She travelled to London from Israel to do this work with me, and she is Jewish. The work we are doing is not just for her — far from it, and we both know it. It extends to all the souls who died there with her, and in ever greater circles beyond, in her homeland, in Germany, in England, and far beyond that, too, in non-geographical realms.
“That’s it!” she exclaims. “They will all go, even the very last ones. It is clear now.”
As I then bid her to rise up onto the surface of the earth from below, she tells me of beautiful and wondrous things. I will try to convey this as best as I can in words: it feels important to share this.
She rises up from the darkness and sits down upon this consecrated earth. Then she blesses the ground – the ground in which the bones of her gassed and skeletal body lie buried in a pile. There is so much reverence and grace in her presence now. We have moved far from the pain and grief of human experience.
As she blesses the earth, a huge shaft of golden-white light beams down from the heavens, and as she starts to rise inside of that light tunnel, it turns into a beautiful tree at the level of the earth, with its strong roots weaving among the bones below, standing organically and majestically in lieu of a gravestone.
This chapter is over, and my client feels the completeness of that lifetime now, along with a sense of freedom she did not have before. The tree marks the spot, and the bones rest in peace.
Our session continued, as we were now free to enter the world of souls and discover my client’s work and connections there – among which was the soul of the little daughter she accidentally killed, who has reincarnated as my client’s mother in her current lifetime in Israel… Many pieces fell into place about why her mother was never particularly nice to her, and sometimes outright hurtful. But we will leave the session and its many unfolding insights there, and come to rest on another piece of sacred ground.
As I revisit these recent memories, I am sitting on the grass at a retreat centre in southern England, with clouds overhead that sometimes let through some moments of dazzling sunshine. When the sun shines down on me, it is almost unbearable to be wearing my dark blue trousers: they soak up the sun and seem to transmit its original heat directly onto my skin. It is lovely – and also a bit too intense. I am not exactly dressed for the beach, as I spend these hours quietly preparing for my imminent Ordination as a One Spirit Interfaith minister.
When the clouds cover the sun again for some minutes, it is a mercy on my skin.
Sometimes the work I do with my clients, going deep into intangible and yet highly impactful spiritual realms, is a bit like when the sun shines through. It is wonderful, warm and life-giving. It is also intense and difficult for a human body to bear for too long at a time. It is good and kind to myself to rest in between. Just like between incarnations.
Tonight, I will put on my white robes as a minister and take my vow for the work I set out to do as Reverend Marcus. I will share it with you here:
“I will remember who I am.
I will remember who you are.”
With that, fellow travellers, I bless all our journeys homeward bound, overland and underground, in shadow and in light, visible and out of sight.
The sacred is all around.
Sometimes we find it alone, and we can always find it together.