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There isn't much new to report, so I wanted to go over the dynamics of what I'm trying to do, here. I've got a cold-weather cut on my right-middle finger, which means that every key (including the "k") using that finger hurts. But, "no pain, no gain."

First, however, I want to report "no results" on a second test. Remember, this is science, at least of a sort. "No results" is still results. It simply isn't the results you either wanted, or expected. But it tells its own story, and leads in its own direction.

One must, however, keep in mind previous results. For example, I see studies in which brain activity can be measured during various anomalous states, like meditation, or even the death process. And since they do get measurable results, the materialists--who come at it with their own set of a priori assumptions--conclude that it is the brain, after all, which creates consciousness. The problem with that is, that we have enough evidence, now, showing that consciousness can survive quite intact independent of the physical brain. So that interpretation is moot. There must be another explanation, and the one that makes sense to me, is that mind and body are (obviously) linked, such that the physical brain and its processes reflect the mind, so long as that link is maintained. Not cause, reflect.

So here, if I do not get the flashback, full-immersion, cognitive past-life memories I would ideally like, when I expose myself to my past-life environs, that is a test result all the same. But it does not prove that my case is bogus or imaginary. The situation is far more nuanced than that.

I was watching Jeffrey Mishlove on YouTube last night, interviewing physicist Russell Targ about another leader in the field who had passd on. I sent an early draft of my documentary, "In Another Life: Reincarnation in America" to Jeffrey back around year 2000. He was unimpressed, and had several criticisms. I can't remember them, now--perhaps some were warranted. Most criticisms of my documentary didn't take into account how badly I was crippled by budget constraints;* but here's the thing--an astute person should be able to pick up on the intrinsic worth of a project, whether it is rough, or crippled by budgetary constraints, or not. And he didn't. His backing would have changed the entire course of the project (likewise some other leaders in the field). But I have concluded that my work is too advanced for these people. I think I won't detour, here, into a discussion of why I believe that. I could, but this isn't the time. Suffice it to say that they are impressed with one instance of ESP, or spirit communication, or remote viewing. These things are ABC's to me. I am working consciously with my astral soul-mate, my past-life wife, to bring a present life and a recent past life into juxtaposition, using myself as a Guinea pig. It's much more advanced work. The things that Mishlove is impressed by, are part of my daily interaction with Abby. But that does not automatically kick my efforts into the realm of fantasy! This is what nobody, apparently, gets. In other words, I am doing real work at the level of most peoples' fantasy.** Having positively identified a past life, and having proven that it is a correct match, I am now "plopping myself down," as it were, in the very scene of my former existence (i.e., where Mathew Franklin Whittier lived for a little over 20 years in middle age). I am honestly recording my subjective reactions, as well as any karma and karmic connections which manifest.

You will notice--if you don't dismiss me as delusional (the alternative, but insufficient explanation)--that this is very advanced science. A few are working at this level--Dr. Gary Schwartz, who is investigating the potential for human/spirit collaboration--comes to mind. But I haven't been able to contact Dr. Schwartz, nor would he probably take me seriously, if I did. I have had contact with some of the prominent researchers at this level, as an interviewer, but I didn't go so far as to broach the subject of my own work. I am easy to look up online, for the matter of that, so if any of these people want to know what I'm up to, they can easily find out.

A couple days ago, I took a bound volume of the 1851 "Carpet Bag" (Boston's answer to "Punch") to a downtown Portand bookbinder, to have the spine archivally replaced. This antique bookstore is on Congress Avenue, Portland's downtown main street, so since I had an hour of parking before I would be ticketed, I took the opportunity to walk back to Monument Square, where I had been a few days earlier. On the way, there are several period churches which I felt inner recognition for, particularly the First Parish (Unitarian) Church, with its interesting stone work (Mathew loved good masonry). The Unitarians, back then, were quite liberal, though as they are today, they were light on anything they considered miraculous. Still, as Abolitionists, Mathew and Abby must have felt at home, there. One of Mathew's best friends in later life, George Bradburn, had been a Unitarian minister during this early period, in 1839/40. So it is not at all unlikely that they attended at least occasionally (in fact, it is practically a foregone conclusion, though they do not show up in Church records as members).

But when I got to the Square, I had the same lack of reaction that I had during my first visit. To test it more thoroughly, I sat for a few moments on the edge of the Civil War monument (obviously, not there in Mathew and Abby's time); and again, on a park bench. Seated on that bench, I would have been where the City Hall was; to my right, sat the Portland Public Library. On that site was the American House Hotel (also called "Whittier's," being run by a distant relation). It appears from the historical record that Mathew and Abby lived at that hotel (probably, family charity) during her final illness with consumption (tuberculosis). After it burned down in 1852, the Mercantile Library Association used the building that was erected there. Mathew gave a few Spiritualist sermons in that building.

To conduct a further test, I entered the library, and after determining what was required to get a card there, I went upstairs to the Portland Room.

On the way back, I passed the corner of Pearl and Congress, where Mathew had rented a flat above the Sawyer grocery store. Just as I had on the way there, I spaced out and missed it on the way back. Very odd. But my mind was preoccupied with the possibility of being accosted by street people, or mugged, and I heard (or imagined I heard) someone shouting at me, demanding I talk to him, from behind me. This grocery caught fire in 1852, and Mathew's flat was burned. When I first ran across the newspaper article about it, I had the immediate impression that it was malicious arson, and later research provided a plausible back-story. It was probably people who were angry at his scathing anti-military parodies, and who had penetrated his pen names. So even though I missed the corner, it appears that I may have been immersed in Mathew's feelings about the place.

Note that I am trying my utmost to report these subjective reactions without putting a spin on them. I would love to tell you that I felt drawn to that spot; and then, suddenly, I had a full-blown, 3D, full-color vision of the grocery. What I can tell you, however, is that when I was about three years old, my nursery school took a sort of impromptu field trip to see the house that had burned down next-door to the school. I remember being fasinated by the private library, with its shelves of charred books.

Yesterday, I was given a driving tour of the rural area near where I'm living, including a glimpse of the bay, its islands, and the old homes dotting the highway (along with new ones, imitating their style). I felt, I suppose, what most tourists would feel. Admiration. Nothing I would tag as a past-life memory--not even emotions, like nostalgia--came up for me.

The rules for past-life recognition are persnickety. This much I know from my eight years of work on my book, "Mathew Franklin Whittier in his own words." Conditions--probably, both inner and outer--have to be just right. When a picture isn't accurate enough--or when too much has been changed in a physical location--it may not be triggered. But the emotions are more likely to "seep in," either immediately (at the actual location), or over the course of half a day or so (in the case of exposure to images and literature). There is a great deal of research to be done, in the future, on the nuances of these rules. For now, this is simply an early pilot study. I have no doubt it will be done with far more precision someday. Then, perhaps, I will be seen as an early pioneer, ahead of my time. Really-speaking, posthumous fame is the safest kind. So long as my work survives, I'll be happy with that.

As for karmic connections, I think at least one of the people I'm getting to know, here, has a nautical past (as do I). This would probably go back before Mathew's lifetime to the one just previous; though Mathew was also drawn to the sea, and to seafaring persons. I am living in a house which is primarily set up for for recovering alcoholics (not being one myself), and Mathew was involved in that scene in the 19th century, as well (i.e., on both sides at different times in his life). As for jobs, the two jobs which immediately present themselves are eldercare (representing, perhaps, my future); and a low-level job for a newspaper, obviously representing Mathew's life as a newspaperman. In fact, it would be exactly the kind of entry-level newspaper job that Mathew took at the beginning of his career, and again at various points when he needed cash. Although I am tempted to take the first thing offered, I think that recapitulating Mathew's pattern is probably not the wisest course. I already know, from his experience, the pitfalls inherent in it. I don't think I need to get dead-ended in that, again. Live and live and learn, as they say (or would say, if they understood reincarnation).

Best regards,

Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.

P.S. Later this same day, getting a tag for my car brought me to the City Hall (not the one Mathew and Abby were so fond of), which is very near the intersection of Pearl and Congress Streets, where Mathew had a flat above the Sawyer grocery. However, that account of the fire does not say which corner the grocery was on, nor have I been able to find it in other sources, to date. However, every time I have visited with Google Street View--and again, today, in person--I have always picked the same corner as the most likely one. It feels, subjectively, like imagination; and yet, I always go to the same corner. Now, with repetition, imagination or arbitrary speculation can gain a certain amount of subjective momentum. I don't know whether or not that's what's happening, here. But I make a note of it for future reference. Statistically, I suppose I have a one-in-four chance of being right. Diagonally across from the corner I picked is a park--I don't know how long it's been there. Directly across is a monument to firemen. The other two corners are now parking lots.

*You will immediately recognize that this is a Catch-22--being so far ahead of your time that you aren't accepted into the club, or taken seriously, you are financially crippled; being financially crippled, you can't do state-of-the-art work; not doing state-of-the-art work, you are denigrated by those who might be in a position to help you get recogntion (and hence funding), and so-on.

**It would be somewhat analogous to Wernher von Braun working on real rockets, when everbody else is writing science fiction about it; or Nikola Tesla working on wireless electricity, when everybody else is likewise including it in science fiction. If people didn't know these pioneers, they would just throw them into the same category with the rest.


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by Bill Danoff and Taffy Nivert (Fat City), from the album "Reincarnation"



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