On Traveling through Time
"When the time of our ordinary mind stops, we enter into the time of Spirit, the Sacred Time, the time when everything is possible."
“When the time of our ordinary mind stops, we enter into the time of Spirit, the Sacred Time, the time when everything is possible.”
– Arkan Lushwala
There is a place where time stops, or rather, does not exist. Expansiveness stretches out. Every inch of space becomes impossibly dense and yet completely empty. Linear time exists inside the emptiness, like sparks arising and winking out. Everything that has ever happened is happening right now, and nothing at all is happening.
When I go to this place, my body must breathe deeper to open to its depth and density. My soul expands to hold the immense vastness of everything. I must concentrate to stay.
In this place, I can find the pain of the lives I have lived. The wounds are ancient – aching like broken bones that have been limped on for centuries. The psychic imprints run deep – lifetime after lifetime, I have played out these same wounds. I have built scar tissue and ways of holding myself to protect the places that have been hurt over and over again.
I can move in the emptiness. My awareness feels through space, searching for the root of the wounds. Deeper and deeper, the density increases. My body tingles. Ancient, primal energies begin rising to my awareness. When I find the root, there is a soft thud of contact, and a deep satisfaction of being met somewhere that believed itself lost.
“Fire, burning, screaming,” I gasped at my healer one session. “Mm yes, I was feeling this too”. She is right with me. Visions of fires in a dark village rise up around me. For a moment, I am convinced that if I open my eyes, I will see burning chaos surrounding me. It is more than a vision – my skin crackles with the thick air and smoke. I breathe, touch again the awareness that tethers me to the present. My healer witnesses me through the screams, the death lapping at my feet, the fear. As we stay, my body begins to digest.
Eventually, all my awareness tips back into the present. Another fear arises, but this time it is so much softer. It is a wound from this lifetime. It lives in these bones, these tissues – a scratch on the surface rather than a gash scarred into my soul. I almost smile at its gentleness. It is so easy to be with.
“All experience is interconnected. Therefore, if we become aware of this and allow that inter-connectedness into our cognitive processes, we can be aware of all events independent of all time. But as soon as we say “we,” we have fallen back into dualism. It is hard to experience this connectedness when our major experience of life is dualistic. Holistic awareness will be outside linear time and three-dimensional space and therefore will not be easily recognized. We must practice holistic experience to be able to recognize it.”
– Barbara Brennan
I do not understand these experiences. I cannot tell you what I think is happening. But the somatic experience is unmistakable – there is a distinct difference in my body when I am feeling this lifetime and when I am feeling something ancient.
I needed a companion to find these places; I could not find them alone. My healer would point out whenever we traveled through time or realms, helping me learn the body sensation.
And then I needed companions to show me that something real was happening, something observable by others who knew the imprint of these places. In my first session with a new healer, I fell into the underworld. It was the first journey of its kind for me – I felt pulled by an invisible energy into grey, silent space. I was an observer, careful not to touch anything (lest I become like Persephone and lose my ability to leave). I hadn’t said a word out loud. My healer volunteered: It feels like you are an observer in a place outside of time and space. Yes, yes, that’s exactly what it’s like, I exclaimed.
Over and over, I would delve into the depths of past lifetimes, feel the somatic body sensation, and then receive reflections that others could feel me there too.
Though some part of me still wavers (it is so afraid of speaking Magic and being disbelieved), there is enough knowing that wants to be spoken aloud.
The more I travel, the stronger I get. My capacity to stay in the density is growing, my visions grow more vivid. Like I am widening the portal every time I travel through it. I can find myself there in a moment now. Double visions shift before my eyes – the trees I stare at in front of me, and the beings who flicker in front of them. The brightness of a summer day, and the darkness of the fires burning.
Sometimes, the past comes to find me. One night, as I danced and shook in the darkness of the Italian countryside (a place where spirits had roamed for millenia), I felt a being appear behind me. Shock and fear came over my system.
She wore the clothing of 17th century Europe – a thick woolen skirt and a blouse buttoned all the way up her neck. She burned with a poisonous rage: unfamiliar, not-me, terrifying. She was not safe. My dancing froze and the vision dissipated. I found my way to a safe place and curled up under my covers.
A few days later I invited her back. My healer was with me, and we asked her: Who are you? Why are you here? Rage came back to me. You have to assert your space, my healer said. Tell her that she cannot come any closer. Back off, I pulsed towards her ferociously, and she backed away. She is holding the rage that you have not been able to hold, my healer says. As we invite her to share, she feeds me visions of her suffering. Death was the response to her power. She could not express her rage and so she held it in, her heart darkening. She cursed those who hurt her and the curses wound their way through time like poisonous smoke. Will you let me feel your rage? I asked, and she gave it to me.
There is a malaise that comes from not being seen in these places.
My body has always known how to run into other lifetimes and realms without my conscious awareness. They were incredible hiding places for a being who did not want to be found. And it worked – no one ever found me. Even my healers and therapists would miss me somehow. The loneliness was aching, an ache that no matter how many times people tried to meet, felt just out of reach.
We all carry wounds from other times. We all have places in our Soul that have never been found, never expect to be found, but crave it with an intensity that pulses through our whole being. It is the longing that pulls us forwards, seeking, seeking, seeking.
And there is nothing quite like the satisfaction of being met somewhere that has given up on ever being seen, of feeling someone travel through time to find where you are hiding and make contact. Of being known for the full depth of your Soul, through every incarnation and into the limitless being you are today. There is a fire burning in me to find others who are hiding and heal the lifetimes’ of suffering our souls are secretly holding.