Past life memories are coming back to us now. If not naturally then with assistance. Why is this so important? Because we need to know where we have come from to know where we are going. Whether this is memory in your blood from your ancestors or memories in your soul from past incarnations. All of this knowledge is accessible now. There is a struggle happening. Some forces seek to hide the knowledge from us so we remain small and others are protecting the knowledge so we may find it.
This is a past life memory shared with me of a warrior protecting the kings list which has the records of the Kings descended from heaven who each reigned for thousands of years. This carved stone text is a record showing human lifespans that have shrunk from thousands of years to hundreds, to barely a hundred.
~We cross the bridge into a past life. We are in Mesopotamia. I see the warrior standing with bare legs, wild hair, feet on dusty, dry earth. He wears a gauntlet of leather, brass and steel and is stained with the dust from many days of hard journey through the desert. It is a vast space with only a few sparse stands of trees. He and his band of travellers carry something very precious, ancient and dangerous in the wrong hands. They guard it well day and night. Stopping to make camp in the empty desert. At night they stand vigil and watch the night pass as others sleep.
The warrior stoic in his mind and body, knows the charge he has been given, he knows the consequences if they fail. A terror will be unleashed on the Earth that no man would survive. So the few that must fall to guard this secret is a small price to pay in comparison. He pays dearly for it though, every time a man falls under his protection a piece of him dies inside. He knows the toll of this work will one day take him to an early grave, he sees his mentor on his way there now. Strung out under the pressure of responsibility he drinks himself to numbness and dies a little inside every day so he may live one more mission. He has become hardened and calloused from this work.
They pick up where they left off, one more day’s walk until they reach their destination. The wagon strains on the dry earth under the immense weight of the sacred box within. They see the earth walls and the opening into the temple beneath the earth. The hired labour take the great chest from the wagon and carry it into the tomb. The warrior’s follow them silently and dispatch them with expert precision. Dead before they hit the ground. No inkling of what was coming. It’s better this way. They die with honour and have been given a pass to the afterlife because of their contribution to this sacred mission. They are buried in a place of prominence within the underground temple.
Returning to their lives undercover as ordinary citizens the warriors mix with the upper class, those in high places and the common folk in the marketplace to keep a finger on the pulse of information moving through the gossip circles. The bought and paid for secrets and fabricated stories are reaching almost a mythical status now.
We see the warrior at home with his family a wife and son, they are part of his cover, his mind always on his mission, it is what he was born to do and he will die for his cause one day, if he does live on he will become one of the council but few ever make it that far. And who would want to sit upon a seat that carries such burden. He surely never wants his son to suffer the life he has lived and prays that one day he will walk another path. Take his mother and cross the sea to safety. Build a new life and take his lineage in another direction. One of peace, not this silent war that wages under the surface.
If the sacred texts, (the cuniform tablets of the kings list) can be secured into the temples at their designated locations all will be right and good for the future and the people will be free from tyranny.