The pain feels like someone thrust a spear in my back. That I was in battle. At the city of Troy. Fighting with fellow Greeks for the foolish prize of a minor King’s run-a-way, but lovely, wife, Helen. She with a face that will launch a thousand ships.
But a wound in the back? How can I face my family, my friends with such a disgrace? Why was it not a sword through the belly? At least that would show I faced the enemy, and not shown him my back as if I was running away. I’d rather die than receive this disgrace. Such shame from a wound that’ll never heal. No matter how many lives I might lead.
And, that’s what got me thinking about the pain in my back today. Could it have come from battle in a former Life? Did the “healer” who read my aura several years ago know what he was talking about when he “saw” I was a warrior in previous lives? Was I a warrior then, as well as now? That fighting in Vietnam was nothing new for me? I don’t know. Perhaps, that is why I got this “vision” of myself helmeted with ancient rawhide breast and body “armour” while meditating this morning. I sent wave after wave of love and compassion to the pain I felt in my lower back, trying to soothe it, so that I could focus on a topic to write. But, no matter what I tried, it continued to throb. And I embraced it. Became one. And saw, perhaps, where it might have originated.
Spear in the back. With the shame such a wound would carry some 500 years before our modern age. That could explain why I’m drawn so much to the Iliad and Homer. Christ, my father’s name is Achilles. What other sign does one need?
I became acutely aware of another “throb” pulsating with each of my heartbeats. Meditation helps one focus on minute details one tends to overlook in the present moment. I “felt” a pain in my left eye, the one with a torn retina and a cataract removed, forcing me to wear a black patch for several months. Could I have lost the eye in battle during some other Life? And what about the old scar on my left hand. Was not even 4-years-old when I fell on a jagged piece of glass beneath the boardwalk in Atlantic City. Blood gushed out, but I remember nothing else except trying to be brave when I showed it to the adult watching over me. Had I lost a hand in some war?
My one and only Life regression indicated that I was a lowly Lord in Britain during the Middle Ages. I saw myself die from a stomach would. Was penetrated by a sword, and I saw death occur while lying against a tree in a wooded area near a meadow.
If this, indeed, is the case, that I am suffering pains from the slings of arrows and the thrusts of weapons, then I can carry that discomfort with a better attitude. I can tell myself that I “earned” this “hurt.” It’s part of who I am, have been, and probably will be if re-incarnated in another Life, same old Soul. Just help me to remember a little better next time, Lord of the Universe.