Ritter
Banned by Moderators
I am going to write about my past lives in chronological order. Not in the sequence I experienced them during my regressions.
Manu, Majorca, ~2000 B.C
My first name was Manu. It is unrelated to the Vedas, it was just a name. Mine. Surnames were not needed, there were not that many people on Majorca in those days, near present-day Alcudia. Many, sure, but no other Manus in my village. This all happened in the late stone age some time. Perhaps early bronze? My tools were not of bronze, anyway. I am not sure at all, just a general sense of time.
My first memory sequence was floating on my back in the hidden bay at Platja del Coll Baix. It used to look different and wasn't called that, but I have revisited all these places in this life. It is hard to access and we called it the hidden beach. Great place to find food and spend leisure time away from most people, who stayed closer to the village. We often went there. I also remember other places that I recognize. Having a few days in a cave with my wife and children, fishing and diving for food, cooking it on a fire. Enjoying the sun while the salt water dried on the skin. It was essentially the happiest I have ever been in any life. As close to heaven as you get on earth, perhaps.
I had duties, of course. I was not a child. But it wasn't extrwmely structured. We were basically free. I was active in our religious ceremonies, somehow. To my modern sense, it felt shamanistic. Dancing around fires, singing and such. Besides this, I was a hunter. There weren't any professional warriors yet. We did grow a few things and knew how to plant, but weren't really farmers.
There had been attacks in some places, and fighting wasn't unheard of, but we were not ready for it. We normally lived in a small round house made out of some kind of sandstone. Like an ant hill. This type still exist there, apparently. My house is long gone, though. There is a small city there now, Alcudia. Seeing it paved and dirty with oil was offensive, it used to be beautiful and some idiots has planted palm trees all over the island. Coll Baix was less painful to see, it still looks like Majorca should look. Mountainous, evergreen forest, wild goats and all. Sadly, it is also polluted and the water feels a little oily. There was a little plastic in it. Nice place, though. Not unlike itself as it was. A very peaceful place.
Anyway. Another time at Coll Baix, raiders came to our bay. There were three or four large boats with a handful of men with spears and bows in each. They had darker skin than us. Like depictions of minoans or something similar, reddish dark like ochre. Maybe north africans of some sort. Not the arabs living there today. More like unusually dark-skinned europeans. Some with blue eyes. We were a little lighter, but not much. If you live outdoors like that, you have a permanent tan and you shrivel up like a piece of leather with age.
Anyway. I reacted to their arrival as a threat and shoved and screamed at my family to go up the mountain path leading away from the beach. The path at that time was located at the center of the beach, but has been subject to some kind of landslide or erosion since then. The caves are mostly gone, too. I told them to run up into the mountains and not stop for anything and to warn the village, which is located at least three hours away. Two at a jog, maybe. The raiders were close behind us, and if my family were to have any chance to get away, I would have to stay and fight. It was an easy decision, even if I hardly knew how.
I turned around and the raiders caught up to me quickly. My family hurried up and disappeared over the ridge. The raiders were long-haired and clearly a martial people. They had clothes made of coarse blueish cloth, leather and some kind fur. Thankfully, they had the honor to fight me fairly and not shoot me with their bows, and the path was narrow and had a few turns, and I had a longer spear than them. I killed a few of them, but eventually I got a sharp bone or flint spear shoved into my lower stomach at an upwards angle, until it hit the back of my ribs. I finally let go of my own spear and fell backwards. It took time to bleed out and die, it was very painful. The foreigners stood around me talking in their guttural language, which I could not understand. They were not good men at all, but it felt respectful at least. Then I died. My last thought was a desperate hope of my family having gotten away successfully, and sadness I would not be there to see my children grow up, or make love with my wife again.
I went back there, not so long ago, and I meditated near where I died. It was all real. The place I had only seen in regression. I had never been there before, but I finally found the cove on a tourist website, and I went there as fast as I could. I now have a name for the place. I recognized it instantly, despite the geological changes and events since then. The old caves are still visible, even if they have collapsed. The path is still visible, even if it is now nearly impossible to traverse. Washed away and too steep, now. As I meditated, I felt gratitude and heard my name audibly, and I was given the feeling that they had ran off the path and up the mountain to the right of the beach, facing inland. My death had not been in vain, at least. The knowledge of that made me very happy.
I will make a separate post about my fragmentary experiences of my afterlife and about the other lives I have lived.
Manu, Majorca, ~2000 B.C
My first name was Manu. It is unrelated to the Vedas, it was just a name. Mine. Surnames were not needed, there were not that many people on Majorca in those days, near present-day Alcudia. Many, sure, but no other Manus in my village. This all happened in the late stone age some time. Perhaps early bronze? My tools were not of bronze, anyway. I am not sure at all, just a general sense of time.
My first memory sequence was floating on my back in the hidden bay at Platja del Coll Baix. It used to look different and wasn't called that, but I have revisited all these places in this life. It is hard to access and we called it the hidden beach. Great place to find food and spend leisure time away from most people, who stayed closer to the village. We often went there. I also remember other places that I recognize. Having a few days in a cave with my wife and children, fishing and diving for food, cooking it on a fire. Enjoying the sun while the salt water dried on the skin. It was essentially the happiest I have ever been in any life. As close to heaven as you get on earth, perhaps.
I had duties, of course. I was not a child. But it wasn't extrwmely structured. We were basically free. I was active in our religious ceremonies, somehow. To my modern sense, it felt shamanistic. Dancing around fires, singing and such. Besides this, I was a hunter. There weren't any professional warriors yet. We did grow a few things and knew how to plant, but weren't really farmers.
There had been attacks in some places, and fighting wasn't unheard of, but we were not ready for it. We normally lived in a small round house made out of some kind of sandstone. Like an ant hill. This type still exist there, apparently. My house is long gone, though. There is a small city there now, Alcudia. Seeing it paved and dirty with oil was offensive, it used to be beautiful and some idiots has planted palm trees all over the island. Coll Baix was less painful to see, it still looks like Majorca should look. Mountainous, evergreen forest, wild goats and all. Sadly, it is also polluted and the water feels a little oily. There was a little plastic in it. Nice place, though. Not unlike itself as it was. A very peaceful place.
Anyway. Another time at Coll Baix, raiders came to our bay. There were three or four large boats with a handful of men with spears and bows in each. They had darker skin than us. Like depictions of minoans or something similar, reddish dark like ochre. Maybe north africans of some sort. Not the arabs living there today. More like unusually dark-skinned europeans. Some with blue eyes. We were a little lighter, but not much. If you live outdoors like that, you have a permanent tan and you shrivel up like a piece of leather with age.
Anyway. I reacted to their arrival as a threat and shoved and screamed at my family to go up the mountain path leading away from the beach. The path at that time was located at the center of the beach, but has been subject to some kind of landslide or erosion since then. The caves are mostly gone, too. I told them to run up into the mountains and not stop for anything and to warn the village, which is located at least three hours away. Two at a jog, maybe. The raiders were close behind us, and if my family were to have any chance to get away, I would have to stay and fight. It was an easy decision, even if I hardly knew how.
I turned around and the raiders caught up to me quickly. My family hurried up and disappeared over the ridge. The raiders were long-haired and clearly a martial people. They had clothes made of coarse blueish cloth, leather and some kind fur. Thankfully, they had the honor to fight me fairly and not shoot me with their bows, and the path was narrow and had a few turns, and I had a longer spear than them. I killed a few of them, but eventually I got a sharp bone or flint spear shoved into my lower stomach at an upwards angle, until it hit the back of my ribs. I finally let go of my own spear and fell backwards. It took time to bleed out and die, it was very painful. The foreigners stood around me talking in their guttural language, which I could not understand. They were not good men at all, but it felt respectful at least. Then I died. My last thought was a desperate hope of my family having gotten away successfully, and sadness I would not be there to see my children grow up, or make love with my wife again.
I went back there, not so long ago, and I meditated near where I died. It was all real. The place I had only seen in regression. I had never been there before, but I finally found the cove on a tourist website, and I went there as fast as I could. I now have a name for the place. I recognized it instantly, despite the geological changes and events since then. The old caves are still visible, even if they have collapsed. The path is still visible, even if it is now nearly impossible to traverse. Washed away and too steep, now. As I meditated, I felt gratitude and heard my name audibly, and I was given the feeling that they had ran off the path and up the mountain to the right of the beach, facing inland. My death had not been in vain, at least. The knowledge of that made me very happy.
I will make a separate post about my fragmentary experiences of my afterlife and about the other lives I have lived.
