I wish we could all get past the issue of whether reincarnation does or doesn't exist, and get to some of the specifics. As things stand now, Western society is in such denial, that we can't even get to a rational discussion of this first, primary issue. What's happening, I think, is that as the strength of the evidence for reincarnation is grudgingly acknowledged, people attempt to do "damage control" by offering scientific explanations--explanations like the akashic record, genetics or mumbo-jumbo physics. All of these keep reincarnation safely within the realm of the material world--or, failing that (in the case of the akashic record), they at least keep it impersonal.
But my study, if bravely and squarely faced, doesn't admit of a materialistic explanation. That's because it does, in fact, prove "reincarnation personal." I had that body; now I have this body--but there is a continuum of identity, and I am definitely the same person--every bit as much as I was the same person as when I was in college. I am not the same person as I was in college, in a particular sense; and yet, undeniably, it was me. This is exactly the same for my past life in relation to my present incarnation--except more so.
This is what I wish I could convey to somebody out there, who may chance to read this blog entry. I can't imagine who is reading these--clearly, somebody is. But they don't buy my book, which is bizarre. Are they taking this as entertainment? Are they laughing at me? Is it just something to read, for a lark, while they wolf down their donuts and coffee before going to work? I don't get it. How could you take this seriously and not buy the book?
Abby has "told" me, by thought-burst impression, that they are afraid. So they are sort of warily sniffing around my case--but it would be too threatening to actually immerse themselves in it, because I might actually be right. And I might actually have real evidence.
I have been keying in my past-life journalistic work from my late teens and early 20's in that lifetime. I've keyed in everything (minus some "fillers") that I wrote for the 1834/35 New York "Transcript," and the years 1830 and 1832 for the New York "Constellation." I'm now starting on year 1831, and it's a huge project, still. I'm able to key in roughly six pieces each morning, and then in the midst of my caretaking duties, I literally run upstairs and proofread a paragraph or two, until by the end of the day, I have them all proofread. I'm still in February, so that will go on for awhile.
But as I do this, I naturally am immersing myself in my past-life work, and here is where it gets interesting; because his personality--my past-life young personality--starts to seep in and "color" my current personality. I intuitively, emotionally, subconsciously, remember being this person. Or, rather, I remember that that was me. It feels like yesterday. It doesn't feel like a sepia-tone photograph of "history"; it feels like the present day. The 19th-century--what we now would call "steam punk" (the early days of steam punk) is the modern world, the world of increasing scientific achievements. When I read these pieces, I am back there. I forget that it isn't current news. I forget that all those people are long dead and gone (and, in many cases, returned).
I am trying to describe something I already know, at the outset, that I will fail to convey. Imagine that you have complete amnesia of your entire college experience. Suddenly, you discover, in the attic, your college diary. There is no question that it was you, but, you don't remember any of it. You start to read; and the feeling of being that young man, or woman, starts to awaken within you. If you read for three or four hours (say, you are keying it in, as I am doing), you become immersed in it, and it feels quite natural as your present-day life. And yet, you still don't remember any of these incidents, or people. It's your history--you feel it--and it is expressed precisely as you would express it--and yet, you are getting all of these memories second-hand, from your former self.
But then you come to the part about the evening you first saw your wife standing by the stream, and how you screwed up your courage to talk to her, and she turned, and she was so beautiful, and you sat by the edge and talked for three hours.
That you remember--not the whole thing, just a brief, intense impression of sitting there with her, and the excitement of feeling that you had found one person who completely understood you; and that you would be together the rest of your lives.
That's the best I can describe it. People want proof--but proof is never 100%. Just a couple days ago, I got another bit of proof. A year or two ago, as I was revising my book, I added a past-life impression of my wife, Abby, who had "consumption" (tuberculosis), lying unclothed before the hearth, as a supposed treatment for the disease. Then, very recently, I ran across in one of these articles I'm keying, a reference to that very treatment. In this case it was a remedy for an upset stomach, but the character is said to have lain before the hearth, his skin covered with grease.
I definitely don't remember ever seeing this in a movie, or reading it in a book. The question now becomes, just how likely am I to have run across this bit of information, and forgotten it, so that it came to my mind as a false past-life memory? This one is rather unusual. Honestly, have you ever heard of it? I'm not sure, but I'll bet I might even have trouble finding it online, if I searched for it. I don't even know what search words I would use (but I can guess what sort of things I would turn up, so I think I'll pass on it, for now). I can't think of any historical novels (I have only read a handful), or movies, or magazines, in which I might have come across this 19th-century cure. Actually, this story took place even earlier, perhaps in the 18th century. It's just not the sort of thing one might run across. But maybe there was a television program about a woman of the 18th or 19th century, who was ill, and laid down before the hearth.
This is the frustrating thing about proving past-life memories. In a few instances, I did it. One has to remember something so idiosyncratic, and so specific, that one could not possibly have taken it from a book or a film.
But you see I've made a huge digression, because I can't describe this experience of knowing that the voice in these articles is actually myself, from a time I can remember only in a gut, intuitive sense. It is so strong...and yet...
What I wish I could do, is to discuss my subjective experience with other reincarnation researchers, and be taken seriously. Researchers who do not feel that they have to deny that I have an actual past-life match; but who are interested in what my particular study may reveal, to add to the field as a whole. Because my own conclusion is that the higher mind remains unchanged, or essentially unchanged, for a number of lifetimes. This one is relatively recent, so I don't know if it would be the same, say, 500 years back, or 5,000 years. But as far as the 19th century is concerned, I have the exact same higher mind. My personality is different; but I am beginning to remember that personality, in some visceral sense I can't explain, as I key in so many of these pieces written then, by myself. I had a different childhood; a different personal history. Some few of my beliefs and convictions were different; most were identical to those I hold, today. My values were the same. My sensitivies and proclivities were essentially the same. When I key in these pieces, I feel as though I could have written them precisely the same way--nay, I feel that I did write them, and I remember the feeling of how my mind was working. I remember the creative process, even if I don't remember the actual event being described. I remember being proud of a particular turn of phrase, for example.
In certain respects, I've matured--and these are the particular lessons I incarnated to learn in that lifetime. I have shored up certain weaknesses in my 19th-century character (I won't say what they are). But the differences are relatively small. I'm essentially the same person.
You see I'm going over and over the same territory, like an archer shooting again and again trying to hit the bullseye. I can't quite express it.
This is not a matter of remembering some historical figure through the impersonal akashic record. This is me. Every bit as much as that college kid was you. But it means there is no damage control for this study. One had best ignore it, if one wants to remain safe in one's materialistic outlook. Because this study will seriously challenge it.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
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