Part One: Visions is a brilliant interweaving of personal and transpersonal experience tha invites the reader to share the author's metaphysical experience. Part Two, Way of the Soul complements the first and introduces original concepts of time, space, density, dimension, consciousness, purpose and soul evolution
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Spiritual Development in InterGalactic Context
"The Princess From Maldek: A Visionary Exploration of the Fifth Realm is a profound step into the world of spiritual understanding. An interesting and informative read" - Lynn Andrews
The writing of this book has been a mysterious process, indeed. Begun within months of producing The Fourth Eye: A Spiritual Primer, with the provisional title, Aliens of The Fifth Realm, it came to me in fits and starts, sometimes weeks, sometimes months, and with regard to Part Two, years apart. In some ways, it is an account of the continuation of my life’s journey as represented in the O-Becoming trilogy. In other ways, as it is way beyond my present conscious knowing, it is visionary fiction. Both I as the physical form of the author, and my “channeled” guidance, (a team of Beings representing themselves as The Brotherhood of Light, Pan or Nature, the Overlighting Diva of Healing, the BA or soul of Lisa Raphael, Thoth, and Melchizidek,) find and found joy in this expression of Life by Life Itself.
May the readers share in the love and joy with which it is given.
Many years ago, while I was still deeply rooted in victim consciousness, an energy worker alerted me that a powerful negative entity had a hold over me. She identified this as a powerful male shamanic leader of a cult. As I began to recognize, remember and accept instances where I have been the perpetrator in previous incarnations, I came to know that I had been a very powerful and charismatic religious leader. To my horror, I had ordered, supervised and personally participated in torture, rape and sacrifice of innocent women and children in the name of whoever the deity was I was purporting to represent.
At the solstice of 2004, seemingly out of the blue, Stonehenge came to mind so vividly that I found myself researching it on the Internet. I envisioned walking across open fields to the sacred stones at dawn, and knew I had to do it. My guides informed me that it would be a quick trip, less than a week. One of my close soul sisters had time off from her job at the beginning of September, so we planned the trip together.
An hour before our departure, an emergency occurred which prevented her from joining me. I was on my own. Armed with detailed driving directions, I had no idea how I would find my way without a car.
After traveling for 30 hours, I arrived at the bed and breakfast at
4:30 p.m. Stonehenge closes at 6:00 p.m. As my accommodation was just across the road from the entrance to the path across the fields to Stonehenge, I set off immediately, determined to find my way first by daylight. I barely made it. At the first monolith, I burst into uncontrollable sobs as I heard “Welcome home” in my head.
Well-rested, well-prepared with hiking boots, water, trail mix, map and flashlight, I embarked at dawn the next day in a light mist, under a starlit sky. Suddenly, I tripped and fell, scraping my knees and gauging a deep gash on my right hand. It bled profusely all the way. The first thing I needed when I arrived at the site was a Band-Aid.
During the course of my preparations for the trip, I had been given to understand that Stonehenge was the site of sacrificial rituals I initiated during my lifetime as a Druid priest. At the altar stone that morning, I offered prayers of forgiveness, and requested absolution from the crimes committed there. It was not until the next day that I realized the significance of my “accidental” fall:
I had come to Stonehenge with blood on my hands. The gash on my hand was precisely at the heart meridian.
Much of the victim consciousness that I carried most of my life was associated with my childhood in the Holocaust. I abhorred the way that the victimization of Jews during the second world war was represented as an exclusive event, and fluctuated between indignation that, since I was never in a concentration camp, the horror of my childhood experience was not recognized within the Holocaust community; and disgust at the way in which this victimization was used to justify the dispossession and persecution of others. I wanted to use my experience as a way to alert people to the continuing horror, since the process by which Hitler initiated persecution of persons considered politically, socially or racially undesirable continues today in many parts of the world.
A month before my Stonehenge adventure, I was invited to Germany to speak, as a Holocaust survivor, about the persecution of Falun Gongix practitioners in China. My hosts were particularly interested in getting this information into the Holocaust memorial sites all around that country. One place we would be visiting would be the memorial complex at Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. I departed for Germany three weeks after my return from Stonehenge, on Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. I had already recovered memory of many lifetimes as victim in the Holocaust. At Bergen-Belsen, I realized I had also been a guard at that camp.
On a large mound over a mass grave, I place my hands on my heart and then on the ground, toning a chant that was transmitted to me telepathically at Stonehenge. As I offer my prayer for forgiveness and restitution, the earth moves beneath my hands.