A few posts back I wrote of being a Lakatoh seer. I was sitting by a fire with my eyes mudded and blindfolded. At the time I wasn't sure what was going on, but after some research I learned that seers or shamans would often blindfold themselves to darken their sight to this world. They would also spirit travel at night and in many cultures drumming was used as well.
In my regression, it was evening. There was drumming and dancing to help facilitate the journey into the unseen worlds. The mud and blindfold over the eyes makes sense. I was preparing to journey and it was not my death scene.
Now, I am going to have to try and go back there and find out more...but when I can find the time. Been very busy lately and this type of journey requires some alone time, which is tough sometimes.
I'll keep you posted.
Hands palm to palm,
Shinzen
Friday, June 11, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Ronin
Re-explored my fleeting Ronin life. I had a glimpse of it many years ago. It was dark and I, as a Ronin, was sitting in front of a small fire. The feeling was one of loneliness.
As I returned with specific questions, I discovered it was during the Tokugawa era in the early 1700's. Lots of chaos and social disheaval. Not a lot of food available either. I, however, was doing okay. I was a hired sword...a Ronin. I was not the type that had lost his lord, but more of lowly class samurai with no real adherence to the samurai code of ethics. In short, I was a bit of an asshole.
Fiercely independent kept coming through. I would only live life on my terms and didn't care who I cut down to get my way. As I reflect, my 'assholeness' was a way to survive in the harsh environment of the time. My death scene was an ambush by other samurai who I had pissed off.
It was at the fire. The ambush came by four men and I was cut down. The death blow was the kissaki, or point of a sword, entering the base of my skull from the rear. It makes me nauseous thinking of it. This is one death scene I had a hard time separating from. Lots of pain and that kissaki to the skull, at C-1 vertebrae really did me in. Not a pleasant experience.
No name came through. I was a bit robust in my appearance and very proud of who I was and what I had done. Narcissisitic maybe? This one was very emotional for me. This is definitely a past life that has me connected to my current martial career....and my neck/vertigo issues.
Hands palm to palm,
Shinzen
As I returned with specific questions, I discovered it was during the Tokugawa era in the early 1700's. Lots of chaos and social disheaval. Not a lot of food available either. I, however, was doing okay. I was a hired sword...a Ronin. I was not the type that had lost his lord, but more of lowly class samurai with no real adherence to the samurai code of ethics. In short, I was a bit of an asshole.
Fiercely independent kept coming through. I would only live life on my terms and didn't care who I cut down to get my way. As I reflect, my 'assholeness' was a way to survive in the harsh environment of the time. My death scene was an ambush by other samurai who I had pissed off.
It was at the fire. The ambush came by four men and I was cut down. The death blow was the kissaki, or point of a sword, entering the base of my skull from the rear. It makes me nauseous thinking of it. This is one death scene I had a hard time separating from. Lots of pain and that kissaki to the skull, at C-1 vertebrae really did me in. Not a pleasant experience.
No name came through. I was a bit robust in my appearance and very proud of who I was and what I had done. Narcissisitic maybe? This one was very emotional for me. This is definitely a past life that has me connected to my current martial career....and my neck/vertigo issues.
Hands palm to palm,
Shinzen
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