September 2, 2016
Steve has finally figured out that I am proofreading his book, meaning, here in the astral world. I look for things that aren't quite yet proven strongly enough; or things that he has speculated upon that aren't quite correct. Steve sometimes even gives me requests--recently, he told me, "Well, we have evidence for almost every past-life impression I recorded, but there are a few that are still a bit weak. For example, I would love to have some more proof that I (as Mathew in the 19th century) interviewed slaves."
Well, he doesn't know, because he doesn't remember this, but I can be quite competitive! (In a nice way.) So he had "thrown down the gauntlet," but this was a toughee...Mathew had, indeed, used his shorthand reporting skills to interview slaves, to give them a voice in the popular media. But it was quite a dangerous business, and he had to keep this one a strict secret! Therefore, as the only "diary" of Mathew we have found so far is a published travelogue, it was going to be very difficult to prove. I had already helped Steve find one clue, so far, in one of Mathew's humorous sketches. It was an obscure reference he had to look up. But could I find stronger evidence for it?
Well, you may know that time is different here in the astral world, and that your internet is a poor imitation of our internet. The next day, while Steve was archiving some old files on his computer, he ran across a folder he had misplaced. It was photographs of newspaper pages that our researcher and friend had taken for us at the library. These were from 1848, a liberal newspaper that Mathew wrote for under various pseudonyms (mostly Latin). He knew that he'd better go through them "just in case," and his eye was drawn to a series entitled "Facts and Imaginings" by "Grapho Mania." Of course, "graphomania" is the urge to write; it wasn't in Latin, but several clues in the text, as well as the general style, told Steve immediately that this was Mathew's work. He also recognized it as his own, intuitively--he knows his own literary "children."
It was the answer to his request. Mathew is in New Orleans, presumably revisiting his friend, the editor of a newspaper there. Right about on my birthday, June 2, he sees a notice about a slave market where 100 slaves will be sold, to help a plantation owner pay his debts. Mathew observes, and writes down verbatim the interactions between the prospective buyer and the slave--who in this case, is a beautiful young woman of 15 or 16 whom the buyer is shameless poking and prodding, even to the extent of lifting up the poor girl's dress in front of hundreds of gawking onlookers. (I was 16 when we first fell in love, so he was seeing me in that girl, as though the man were doing these things to me up on that platform--you can imagine his feelings.) In the next installment, Mathew describes--and again, records verbatim--the sale of a married couple, who will be separated for life.
Now, in 2008, Steve underwent his first hypnotic regression, and described this very event, meaning, that he had witnessed a slave market, how it made him feel and what he would do about it:
Perhaps real moral indignation (not the false kind that people adopt for their own personal agendas) made the therapist uncomfortable, but in any case, she took him off the subject immediately, or we might have had more details. There are, as I said, several markers in these two stories which identify the author as Mathew, including that at present his family was "3,000 miles away." Mathew's second, arranged marriage, in which he had had three children, was already failing, and she had taken them up to live with her family in St. John, Nova Scotia--which is almost exactly 3,000 miles from New Orleans. So we are not simply guessing, here.
We now have Mathew taking down the words of slaves verbatim in a slave market. He also closes the second article by saying: "We have conversed with slaves, slave owners, slave speculators--and those who would have nothing to do with slaves." Given that he was a reporter, and was skilled at taking down lectures and conversations verbatim, it is a "no-brainer" that he probably also recorded interviews. (I like that expression, "no-brainer," as I, myself, am a "no-brainer"!) This is the best I could do, on short notice, to comply with Steve's simple, trusting request. He has noticed that I always seem to answer his requests. He makes so few of them--how could I not? I am capable of far more than he knows, or asks, although I am constrained by the rules from performing "tricks." But he never asks for that. Of course I would do anything for him, and he would likewise do anything for me--and this is what "soul-mates" really means. Have you been in a relationship where you would do anything for him, but he wouldn't do anything for you? That's not soul-mates, dear.
Well, this, of course, required another revision to the book. We had no-sooner gotten that done, than somehow, Steve found himself re-reading the only letter we have in my hand (a digital copy). He hadn't read it carefully enough--he had misinterpreted something, and so he had to set that straight, in the text, as well. (That is a fascinating, but a long, story, having to do with our elopement and my father's continuing opposition to our marriage, which you will have to get from the book.)
Will these revisions never cease? Steve sees two possible scenarios with this book, and both are correct. In the first, as I have told him before, his main audience is "still in diapers." Actually, some of them are now proudly wearing regular underwear and using the toilet quite efficiently, thank-you-very-much! But it will be awhile before they are ready to encounter this book. Ten or twelve years, at least! ;-)
These are what some authors have called "indigo children," and they will need no coaxing. They will recognize our work for what it is. You know that young prodigies are "sparked" or awakened by an encounter with an older sage, on occasion; and more often than you would know, by their guides here in the astral, as well. We "judiciously" nudge their attention to some crucial bit of information, just at the right time. You would never guess that we have intervened--we are quite subtle about it.
Then, there are also people who are currently adults, who are sort of circling around the book, like a flock of anxious birds. They will of course tell you they are "too busy"... Did it move? Is it safe? Do we dare? It may suddenly turn and snatch us! And yet...and yet...
So they "circle." Steve can see it in the statistics for his website. Up and down the numbers go--as the birds circle in close to get a peek, and then furiously fly away, offended at something which pushed them beyond their "boggle threshold." But the overall trend is an increasing interest in the crucial pages, which comes about when someone with a larger website links to this or that internal page. It is coming. Meanwhile, the book is "fully armed and dangerous," you might say. To state it more positively, it is beautifully-crafted, now. With my help, just about every past-life impression Steve recorded early on, has at least two verifications from the historical record. "Verification" means that there is objective evidence to support those impressions. Whether it is partial and suggestive, like the slave market report, or whether it is conclusive, everything is substantiated to some degree with historical facts. (Actually, Steve can think of one impression that hasn't been historically validated--but we have to leave people something to find on their own...)
The public can only ignore a thing so long. Steve had an analogy, and by impression, I added onto it. Steve says that a man with a small, talking alligator named "Fred" walks into a crowded room where a party is going on. Everybody stops talking and turns to see this unusual sight. Fred says in a cultured British accent, "Hello everyone! Hope you're enjoying this fine evening." You could hear a pin drop--for about a count of five seconds. Then, everybody turns back to what they were doing. Conversations resume, the band plays, people dance, and the man with his alligator is forgotten.
That's Steve's analogy. But I have added to it. In my version, the man and "Fred" take a seat at a round table in the center of the room. He orders some soup for himself, and some fish for Fred, who uses his knife and fork just like everybody else. The other people who were at that table, get up and move to another. These two are completely ignored, not counting occasional glances in their direction to see whether they have left or not.
This goes on--and on--and on. But it cannot go on forever. Because it is irritating. Their very presence, there, is an affont, a challenge--even if they just sit there. Eventually, somebody has to do something. A man, red in the face, mounts the stage, hushes the band, and proclaims, "You have no right to be here. Get out with your uncouth beast!!" But someone else says, "Let him talk, let him talk!" and there is a melee! But when the dust settles, some have gathered 'round and are looking into the matter, for themselves.
That process, also, is happening. You see, long after this event (to continue the analogy), the children of the people who gathered 'round--and, if the truth be told, the daughter of the man on the stage is among them--go to visit the aging man and his alligator. They are warmly invited in, and they are full of respectful questions. They can't get enough! They want to know if they can have a talking alligator, too, and where to find one, and how to teach it to talk, and how much it can learn, and whether it can learn multiple languages, and whether it might be employed as a translator, and whether it can write books, and, and, and...
Love to each and all,