I'm taking a break from digitizing my past-life work as a reporter, for the 1834/35 New York "Transcript." As it was a daily, and Mathew (myself in that lifetime) appears to have reported arraignment hearings at the "Police Office" 3-4 times per week, there are dozens of them I will need to key in. There's no question, now, in my mind, that he was the author. There are idiosyncratic clues in them, as well as his distinctive style. Along with these Police Office reports, there are occasional editorials and stories he got published in this paper. I've decided, for the sake of practicality (because some of this new material has to be mentioned in my book), to key these additional pieces, first. Because I have well over 600 of Mathew's works from later on in his career, I could match up the content of some of these early works, point-for-point, with his later ones. As I've said before, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel, because, he really is the author of them.
So it becomes like racking up unnecessary points in a football game you've already won--and there's a question as to just how many fish I need to shoot in that barrel. That people don't believe me, isn't because of any dearth of evidence, in other words, even though the insuperable urge is to get their attention with even more evidence. "You don't believe me? Well, how about this? and this?"
When I back away from that dynamic, of trying to prove the reality of my past-life match to stubborn people, I begin to take the broader--and more personal--view. Because Mathew Franklin Whittier was very much like myself. But in-between himself, and me, there is probably a very confused lifetime in the early 20th century, which I haven't been able to locate in the historical record. And then, coming out of that lifetime, in this one, I had a very confused adolescence. So I am seeing a cyclical pattern, of achieving a certain pinnacle, falling due to one or more "Achilles heels," and then climbing my way back up to the level I had achieved, as Mathew Franklin Whittier. That's why I seem very much like him, today, except for one or two life-lessons I've learned. One or two weaknesses, he had, which I have made into strengths. (None of this was done on my own--I credit my Guru for this, plus a lot of suffering. But I will speak, now, as though I did it on my own, for convenience' sake.)
That's all. I just wanted to share that observation. I do think that this is a common pattern, if not a universal one. It means that the "prodigal son" is not a story, it is a pattern, which repeats in undulating fashion over many lifetimes. You reach a certain level of personal or professional achievement; and then something still not quite right makes you vulnerable to a fall. Learning that lesson, you laboriously climb again, to where you were before, but now fortified with a new understanding in certain areas. In-between, you are a mess.
I have a pretty good sense of what that missing lifetime was like--I even seem to remember details that should make it possible to identify it in the historical record. But I have the feeling this discovery has been withheld from me, because it would be too upsetting and confusing. Not intellectually, but emotionally. I tend to think of myself as a solid and stable emotional fortress--but getting in direct touch with the emotions of this lifetime might turn out to be a bit much to handle. So, it has eluded me. I've searched online for it a few times--nothing.
It has certainly been my experience that what I find, by way of evidence for my 19th-century lifetime as Mathew Franklin Whittier, I have been permitted to find, if I wasn't actually led to it "by the nose" as it were. I could give examples--this is not fanciful or magical thinking. It's literal.
How many of us find ourselves in the up-stage of this cycle--and how many in the down-stage of it? We tend to identify with whatever part of the cycle we're in. My Guru tells (or retells) a story illustrating this principle. A fellow finds himself in wonderful circumstances, so much so, that he takes the name "Kalyan," which means (as I recall the story), "Happy" or "The Happy One." Then, he falls on hard times, and he says, "I am the miserable Kalyan."
But we are neither. We are the process--or, the advanced Teachers would tell us that the process is all about consciousness, but we, ourselves, are something Else.
So too with fame. Mathew Frankln Whittier studiously avoided fame--whether out of dimly-remembered wariness from past lives, or in a solemn promise to his soul-mate, Abby, or for reasons of poor self-worth, I can't quite determine. He wanted recognition, but he feared it. He got some little bit of grass-roots fame when he was "outed" with just one of his many literary characters, "Ethan Spike." That much you can find online. But that was just the tip of his literary output, I have learned--just his "literary toy." The remainder of his work, hidden under dozens and dozens of pseudonyms, went entirely unattributed (or was claimed by plagiarists). Today, I think, nobody believes me about this, even though I can prove it.
There is an unspoken assumption which goes like this: "If you can prove something, Society will admit it; and if it is something laudable, they will applaud your efforts." This is a load of crap. It simply isn't true--and if you rely on it, and invest in something relying on it, you are due for a disappointment. Society will only applaud something which confirms what it already believes; and which feeds its existing appetite. Period.
Normally, a person achieving something which is generally unpopular, can still find a niche group that appreciates his work. Not me, not in this lifetime. Even the people in the narrowest niches, still seem to avoid my work.
But all this is cyclical. If I was still in the down-side of this particular cycle even in the 19th century, then it must be a long cycle. If it is a long cycle, perhaps, it is also a big cycle, which means, a powerful one. Because if you take a large wave, it might look like that, relative to a smaller one. I am reaching into physics, now, by way of analogy, which I have no expertise in, at all. But a long cycle might be like a booming bass. I'll leave it there, as I am over my head on this one!
If one is manifesting something powerful, it might take several incarnations. Within that period, there may be smaller cycles of the personality reaching certain heights, falling, and rising again; but still, the larger cycle is taking its time. That's what I see with myself and my work. I rose to a certain level as Mathew; then fell; then rose again, during my current lifetime. But the larger cycle of manifesting socially, is still in the down-side. It may stay that way for the rest of this lifetime.
I've said this many times--but it appears that as Mathew, I despaired of my legacy, and actually took a hand in destroying it. Then came the confused, lost lifetime, followed by a confused, lost adolescence. Once I got my bearings, and rose, phoenix-like, from those ashes, I regained the ground I had lost, personally, as Mathew. But then, I reconstructed his legacy. After eight years of study, I have it remarkably complete now, I think, mostly extrapolating clues from his published works, along with a little of his personal correspondence, some historical material connected with his famous brother, past-life memory and two psychic readings.
So, I'm back. I continue to write what amounts to a newspaper column every other day or so--no promises, I simply do this as long as it pleases me--to an unknown audience who doesn't even consider purchasing my book, no less actually purchase it. I don't know who you all are. I do know that this blog gets read some 300 times per month, so somebody is at least intrigued by it.
I just keep on sharing, and musing...
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
Music opening this page: "Last House on the Block," by Eric Johnson,
from the album, Europe Live