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5/4/17

Yesterday evening (giving it today's date for convenience), I wrote of finding a page in which Mathew Franklin Whittier, my past-life self, had been writing "fillers" for a newspaper he had had a long-standing relationship with. Turns out that was probably a one-time favor, or a very brief freelance gig. But I thought I would go back into my physical volume of that paper, for year 1852, and take a good photograph of the relevant portion, as discussed in my Update. And of course, while there, I would poke around a little to see if I'd missed something else.

I had. There were several longer essays signed "P.P.," which I think were almost certainly a continuation of a series of essays he had written for an earlier Boston paper, under "Peter Popkins." He had simply resurrected his old series under the initials, for the Portland "Transcript." And there were other pieces--including a humorous sketch in his typical style signed "Paul Pickle"--and it all fit nicely with what I know of his itinerary at the time, and his work for a third Boston paper. So for all intents and purposes, what I postulated in last night's Update is confirmed as being historically correct.

But that's not what I wanted to write about... What to share, and whom to share it with? That is the question. Last time, I believe it was, I talked about "past-life bleedthrough," which typically, for me, starts seeping in an hour or two after I expose myself to my past-life material. This morning, I felt it more strongly than I have ever felt it, before. About three times, I was just on the verge, or so it felt, of being Mathew, meaning, of feeling my identity as his. I can't explain it. Like what might occur in a really deep hypnotic regression, except, in waking consciousness, triggered by being exposed to his own essays, his own thoughts.

Secretly, whether it would be good for me or not, what I find myself wishing for is full memory recovery. To fully awaken as Mathew; or, perhaps, to have full and complete conscious continuity with his life, and mine. Years ago, I thought this might occur in flashes with repeated immersion--but it never did. Only my subconscious mind seemed to awaken. Meanwhile, I discovered that the higher mind is precisely the same. There is naturally full and complete continuity, there. Everything Mathew expresses in his writing, is precisely as I would express it, now. Every turn of phrase, every thought, every reaction, every observation--and all of his values.

Intellectually, I disagree on one or two points, today. He was a fan of St. Paul, and vigorously defended him on at least one occasion. I am convinced that Paul was an inside operative for the Pharisees, charged with sowing discord among the early Christians so as to destroy the young movement from within. Mathew was a very good debater. I have thought just how I might square off against him on this issue, and it would be tough. I could do it, though.

But generally speaking, this is my own higher mind--my own "energy signature," or soul signature--whatever terms one might like to use. Everyone has a vibrational signature, which forms their deeper identity. That is the same, in Mathew, and in myself. If one is intuitive, one could sense it for oneself, comparing these Updates with Mathew's essays.

But the personality is different--and specifically, it is different because Mathew's most recent prior incarnation was as a sailor. Emotionally and temperamentally, Mathew was a sailor born as a New England farmer. He had an adventurous, jolly, humorous outlook--an outsider's point of view--a kind of unreasoned optimism, which yet had a stoic side. He wasn't entirely stable--I don't mean in his values and his affections, it's just that there was something mercurial about him, as he was well aware.

What I have as my most-recent past incarnation (with a possible one intervening, which I haven't been able to discover in the historical record), is a person who was tied down to a clerical job for the last 20 years of his life, beset by tragedies and worries. So the sailor is in there; but uppermost in my identity, in this lifetime, is that clerk. Mathew was also a brilliant writer who never achieved recognition (partly because he remained studiously incognito); he never felt that he wrote a master work worthy of his talents. He achieved grassroots fame only for his literary toy, the Archie Bunker predecessor, "Ethan Spike." And he has been forgotten, now, even for that.

So I carried the impressions of a deeply frustrated, imprisoned, ignored clerk into this lifetime. Rather than the impressions of a happy-go-lucky sailor. And that is the difference between Mathew's personality, and mine.

Well, after having immersed myself in this paper, and encountering several of my past-life literary "children," that earlier identity started washing over me--or rather, it was on the verge of boiling up. Like being on the verge of a belch, and not quite being able to do it.

I don't know why I share this with an audience who studiously ignores my book. As I said last entry, perhaps these will be read in the future by people who have already studied the book, and want to know more. I don't know whether I will ever get that belch to come up. If I ever did, I think I would start remembering everything. Whether I would still be Stephen Sakellarios at that moment, I don't know.

In the car, Abby wanted to play what I used to call our "CD game," of picking songs. Now I have to just close my eyes and dial through the digital offerings in my 2017 Kia "Soul." She landed quite forcibly and definitely on one I hadn't really listened to very carefully: "Weightless," the title cut from an album by Billy Goodrum. I'll open this page with it, if I have time to capture an excerpt from the CD. It's about being dead, and being free. Is Abby telling me I may pass, soon? I can't--I have too many responsibilities, here. Not yet. But then, the song does say, "sooner or later." I think she is telling me, "just wait until you get out of your body. Then it will all come back to you. We will share it, together."*

Either that, or she is saying, "It doesn't matter. When you get over here with me, you won't care about remembering earth as either personality."

Best regards,

Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.

*Neither Billy Goodrum, nor Abby, were suggesting suicide. Regarding suicide, don't do it. You won't get back at whoever you want to get back at; or if you do, you'll wish you hadn't; you won't leave your problems behind, but rather, they will torment you all the more powerfully, but there will be no way to make them right, now. Bad idea.

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Music opening this page: "Weightless" by Billy Goodrum, from the album, "Weightless"

 

 

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