Voice from the Other Side: Lessons of the High Priest to Ix’tal

 

As I remembered it, and as I wrote it, another lesson from the world of the Nagual.

The following story, which is my story from past life memory work, is not a “politically correct” story according to this world’s current understanding.  Although man “sacrifices” thousands of helpless victims everyday, the willing blood sacrifice from a chosen ‘victim’ carries a powerful social stigma.  I believe that this stigma is designed to help hide all the crimes perpetrated by this society upon helpless sacrifices deemed necessary to the maintenance of “freedom and democracy” (or whatever other slogans people use to propagate their particular brand of society) and the dichotomy in this belief is never considered, its consequences never explored.  It wasn’t always so.  There was a time when understanding of the cycle of life, death and re-birth, was real and palpable.  We lived to die and rise again, and we wanted our death to mean something.  The following is my attempt, from what I re-structured of a long ago life, of what that meant to me then, and what it means now that I have re-strung that thread upon my current needle.  Please accept it in the spirit of compassionate, caring, power in which it is offered.   
{from   ~burning woman~  written by Sha’Tara}

Voice from the Other Side: Lessons of the High Priest to Ix’tal

 “And you will hear and understand the voices of the dead.” (Teaching of Aenea – Rise of Endymion, by Dan Simmons)

 It is a long time ago, in what is thought of as the days of the great South American empires; the heydays after the great Quetzalcoatl had left us a marvellous civilization.

 What I was told:  My earth parents had made many petitions to the Temple for the Sun God to grant them a son.  But my mother, it seems, was barren.  Yet late in life she became pregnant.  She had, not one child, but two: a boy and girl twins.  As befitted the occasion, the infant girl was gifted to the Temple to be trained in the mysteries of the Sun God religion.  As she grew up, she could qualify to be one of a select group of girls from whom would be chosen the yearly sacrifice to the God, to become the Chosen.

 My name is Ix’tal.  It is not my real name but my Temple name.  I have lived my entire life of fourteen years within the confines of this place.  The other girls are my friends but we are encouraged to spend much time alone in quiet introspection.  My best friend is the old High Priest who oversees our training.  I remember, near the time of the choosing, a particular conversation.  There were a half dozen girls in the room.

 “None of you have ever known hurt, pain or suffering.  These have been carefully kept from you.  The temple has provided for all of your needs and has trained you into many arts which all but one of you will soon find very useful when you leave here.  Now tell me, do you understand what I mean when I say, you do not know what pain and suffering is?

 The girls nod affirmatively.  I look into the old man’s face and say, “I am sorry master, but I do not.  How could I?  If I have never experienced a thing, how could I know what it is like to not have experienced it?  One must come from the other and vice-versa.”

 “A wise answer.  Do you miss this not knowing?” 

 “The question begs the same answer, master.  One cannot miss not knowing if one does not know of the possibility of knowing.”

 “Ah… And do you feel we have kept things from you here in the Temple?”

 “Master, within the choices given me, I chose to serve the Sun God.  To dedicate my life to his desires for me.  Whether things were kept from me or not does not matter.  What came to me, I received because I choose to believe that is what He desired for me.  The rest would have been a hindrance or superfluous.  I am His as I am.”

 “Blameless and without blemish are you in this, your fourteenth year with us.  You have made our choice easy.  You have been Chosen.”  There was a sigh in the room.  Both of relief and of sorrow.  But what I remember is the joy of revelation. 

 And the rest I will never forget.  At the equinox, I was dressed in a simple white robe.  I was escorted by the High Priest to the foot of the pyramid of sacrifice behind which burned the eternal flame linking the Temple to the Sun God’s palace in the heavens.  Carrying in my hand the knife used for the ritual, I walked the 33 steps to a narrow platform at the top.  I turned and faced the people, all chanting and bowing in the yard below.  Were my parents there?  I would never know and it did not matter, just a fleeting thought. 

 The High Priest then climbed in turn to stand two steps below me so his face was even with mine.  He was tall and I was short!

 I could still choose to live.  I could hand the knife in its heavy gold case back to the High Priest.  I would then be given some survival rations and gear and cast out into the forests to fend for myself.  I would not be harmed but would be an outcast, never able to return to this land.  Or, I could pull the knife from its golden case and holding the razor-sharp serpentine blade in my hand, pass the handle to the High Priest.

I seemed filled with a strange power I had anticipated but never known.  The choice at that  moment was so easy, so unbelievably easy!

Slipping the knife out of its case, I passed it to my friend and he took it.  He had confided in me before, “I shall endeavour to be as brave as you will be in your innocence.  But please forgive me if my hand shakes, for I love you dearly and I would rather kill myself than cut your heart open in this ritual.  Do you understand that?”

 “Yes, master, that I do understand.  And the little I know of love, I extend to you in return.  We will not fail.”

 The master was an adept.  He slipped his left hand behind my back to hold me and he cut my heart in half without hesitation.  As the blood poured out, he took some in his hand and put it on my head: this was my baptism and initiation for passage to the Sun God’s world.  As my body collapsed he pushed gently backward and I fell into the fire.  What I remember of that moment is the most intense feeling of joy any sentient being, I believe, could ever know.  Had I not already been dying, that feeling would have stopped my heart in any case.

 I remember conversations we had about life with the Sun God. 

 “Does every sacrificed Temple virgin become a bride of the Sun God?”

 “Yes.”

 “How many wives does He have, then?”

 With a broad smile:  “Only one.  It is not like here.  Time flows differently.  While you are his bride and wife, no one else will share this with you.  But you will desire to know more of life and He will give you many, many choices.  If you wish, you can return to earth.  He will make you into a ball of light and you will choose a mother and enter her womb at the moment of conception.  You can be a boy or a girl.  You won’t remember where you came from and you will have a normal life, although you may find that this “normal” life is not satisfying.  You will hunger for more, as anyone who has spent time with the God must.  Eventually, you will begin to remember. 

 As I did.  That is why I am High Priest here now.

 “What if I choose not to leave His side?”

 “Would you deny the next Chosen her rightful place in His life?”

 “No, of course not.  But if I fall ‘in love’ with Him?  What then?”

“You will be too wise and strong for such lesser feelings, my daughter.  You will know and it will be easy the choose the right path, always.  Your first real choice, to die in order to live, that is the most difficult.  Do that as impeccably as you have lived you life here with us and you will know. 

 Now let me tell you what it really means to be ‘Chosen’.  It means to become compassion.  That is what “knowing” means.  The rituals of the Ancients remind us, always, there is no higher calling.  And perhaps in some distant other life, this you will remember.  The lives we live and the deaths we die often bear strange fruit.  Many generations may pass before such seeds suddenly burst open.  Then, if it was engendered in joy, you will experience that joy once more — and it will all be yours.  You see, when we give ourselves up for others we give ourselves the greatest gift there ever was and possibly ever will be.  Life, as you will experience, is only about giving.  Whatever only feels the need to take and to hoard to itself is not truly alive.

 “I am confused.  Why does the Sun God “take” virgin sacrifices then?”

“A great mystery, child.  He does not take.  He frees.  In this world the lot of such as you is not remarkable.  Your life in the world, apart from being short, is filled with grief and sorrow interspersed with fleeting moments of happiness and even rarer joy.  The dangers to health and well-being are endless.  The God would have you by-pass that, just this time around so you may know there exists such a possibility.  The blood sacrifice is all of your life’s pains, sorrows, losses and grief’s combined into one act of selfless dedication to a communal dream of blessing — healthy children, peace from enemies and abundant crops.  One beautiful plunge to be followed by flight into the heavens to stand at the side of the God.  Having experienced this miracle, your compassion will then be forever sustained by this knowledge.  You won’t need to believe, you will know.

 [From “Lessons of the High Priest to Ix’tal”]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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22 thoughts on “Voice from the Other Side: Lessons of the High Priest to Ix’tal

  1. We come from dreams ~

    Again, I’m indebted to you – for THIS illumination. I’m aware that I died in previous lives, but only one has any clarity in the memory of them: I was a pirate in the 18th century who fought, like the other great pirates, against the strangleholds of the European crowns upon humanity. In a battle which was meant to put an end to my crew and myself, I got on board their flagship and torched their powder stores in the hold. Needless to say, I wasn’t around to see the aftermath. I’m still here. Oh, wow! Just remembered a great line from the movie Papillon! He’s been put into solitary confinement (again) and he laughs at his captors, “I’m still here, you bastards!”

    Reply
    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Yes, we are still here. Hopefully “this” time we are wiser in the ways of the Matrix and we have learned how to defeat their waning powers. For me the point of going into the past to look at some of my accomplishment (I’m ignoring the wasted, stupid or Matrix-dominated lives to concentrate on the ones that radically changed me) and use those to validate that I can change myself, and that I also have the power to make myself into a better person, equipped with better means to provide enlightenment. Equipped to dare open myself even to those who would hate me enough to take my life; equipped with the fortitude to let them take it freely so they can sense the futility of their own acts. Throughout all these lives, that is what I’ve been seeking and finally, here, while wo-man-kind hangs on the edge of the abyss, poised to kill each other off, or be killed as sacrifices to the Matrix, here am I, aware, knowing, trembling with a desire to spread this awareness to all… yet also knowing that it remains but for those who choose “to walk between heaven and earth” and follow the narrow path… or as in my case, no path at all. With “the Teachers” gone, I’m left to make it up as I go along, day by day. While “still here” I’m responsible for every thought, every word, every feeling couched by the words, and of course for every act. What I want to hear when I return “home” is: “Guileless and blameless we find you. You have chosen yourself and chosen well and we welcome you to your temporary new home.” I’m not expecting it, I’m not that good, but it would by quite a validation if they saw me that way, as an avatar of compassion. I have to be that before I can return here to teach and demonstrate the better way and when they kill me they will experience both deep frustration and futility – experiencing no satisfaction, no pleasure. That’s what I have to plant the next time. I’ve done it before, I can do it again. Arghh matey!

      Reply
      1. We come from dreams ~

        Arghhh har and huzzah! What you wrote brings to mind again that remark of ‘Saint’ Irenaeus, “You can kill us, but you can’t hurt us.” I had a lot of things to do these past thirty hours or so and have a lot of comments to catch up on, and shall respond as I go. For now, I agree. My teachers have left me on my own, telling me in so many words that I’m done with my education – for now – and am responsible for myself, then those whom I encounter.

  2. Lily Von Valley

    Initially I read with a heavy heart but the lessons of the high priest redeemed the sacrifice. The experience of intense joy at the point of her death, and the sequential events leading to it, intensified it all the more. A gripping read; The wisdom brilliant and evocative.

    Reply
  3. Regis Auffray

    Thank you for sharing this, Sha’Tara,

    Once again, reading this account, it was like déjà vu. In fact, I searched through your 370 some articles at AuthorsDen because I was convinced I had already posted this before. I could not find it though.

    Anyway, you do have some replies at AD on your latest articles/stories that I have posted there.

    For this last one, I used Windows 10’s browser “Edge” which I do not normally use. It did an acceptable job of taking your WordPress post and transferring it. It seemed to do everything correctly except for increasing the space between paragraphs; something that I could not fix in AD’s editing programme since it showed everything as “normal”… …until I posted it that is.

    Check this out at AD if you wish.

    All the best,

    Régis

    Reply
  4. L. T. Garvin, Author

    This is such a powerful account. It amazes me that some people can remember past lives. My significant other remembers fighting in the Civil War….very clear, painful memories. Your story, the choice, and the intense joy of the passage into death is a truly remarkable experience.

    Reply
    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thank you for “accepting” that this is an actual experience; a personal “remembrance” of a personal past. I’m always surprised at the twists and turns people make to either deny such experiences are possible, or denigrate the telling of them. Hence why I was hesitant to post. Very well received on WordPress. Obviously you accept the fact that your significant other does remember past lives (or at least one) and it doesn’t bother you, so it seems. I wonder why people are mostly negative towards the telling of past, or even future lives? Does it violate their linear view of universal time? Does it threaten their comfort zone? I try to explain that not everyone has past lives; that some people may well be here for the very first time and possibly the last time. After all, without autonomy, which includes choice on re-incarnation, or not, it wouldn’t be possible to be human: it would be a meaningless claim.

      Reply
      1. L. T. Garvin, Author

        I am not sure why people are negative in this regard, it could be all of the above reasons. He doesn’t tell people because he believes they will think he is “crazy.” I understand that not all people have a past life, and I have no recollection at all of ever having lived, but just because I haven’t doesn’t mean that it couldn’t be true for others. I have always found reincarnation to be such an interesting subject. Thanks so much for your post 🙂

  5. We come from dreams ~

    What we know of our experiences with the people who once were a part of our now-gone community is that we were giving them patterns, or templates to understand, to utilize, in the days ahead. When we sensed that the work was finished, we pulled the plug. I hear from them once in a while. I guess that it could be said that it was a school, one where the information passed through us and between us. Well……for my part, it did when I kept my ego and my temper muzzled! 😀

    Reply
  6. Pingback: I am Nominated for The Liesbter Award: discovering bloggers. – Lily Von Valley

  7. Pingback: I am Nominated for The Leibster Award: discovering bloggers. – Lily Von Valley

    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thanks again, Lily, for your glowing comments. (I think my blog comments are running wild, and away from me… they seem to be popping up under the wrong people, and doubling up as well. Hope it doesn’t get any worse! If my replies come under someone else’s name, or if they make no sense, just ignore them. Thanks.)

      Reply

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