Interference, Free Will, Prayer, and Autonomy

With respect to George and his various incarnations, attitude toward me, et al. Claire [Higher Self] pointed out that he was 'Much too attached to his creation [me] to give good advice about the role'. Pygmalion and Galatea. ( the Greek myth of Pygmalion, a sculptor who fell in love with a statue he had carved.) He created this role among the first that he did when he started doing that as his work. Claire has rather derisively referred to me as his 'dolly'. He is the Junior Teacher/Guide, which I didn't appreciate fully until relatively recently. Claire's thesis, with which I concur, is that he is 'too close to the subject' to advise properly. He has, in effect, an agenda.


Franz is the Senior Teacher and is much better at advice, though he has his biases as well (his last incarnation - Franz Liszt - became a Secular Franciscan and a lay Abbot of a monastery after he had had two LT relationships and two illegitimate daughters, whom he acknowledged - one of whom married Richard Wagner. HIS bias was that his time working at the Abbey was so full of rest and peace that he thought it would be good for me to 'work for the Church'. I knew on the first day that it was a bad idea, but I needed a job....)

As to practical advice, George's  last incarnation was hopeless about money and practical things. Everyone knew it. His father in law gave G's wife an allowance, without which they would not have survived (he only made the equivalent of about 20K a year as a teacher).

And then there's Byron, his other famous incarnation. Let's leave aside the moral questions and focus on the BiPolar Disorder, of which spendthrift habits are a common symptom. In one year only -1813-14 - Byron spent the equivalent of $30Million, with drafts every couple of days for months on end.

Would you take life advice from this man?

Then there was the $64M question: I had gone to Riverside to meet my brother Greg for lunch (halfway) and on the way back, I was coming up the Hill and apropos of nothing I had the wit to ask George what did the Life Council say to him to get him to convince me to come back here after my sister died and I was having NDEs every other day (as everyone else was against it - George, Claire, Franz, Amy who was my sister).

Because if you ASK, they have to tell you the truth. Well, I reckon he was hoping that it would not come up because he looked awfully uncomfortable, and he said,

'They said it would allow my experiment to continue' [ That is, the creation of this role, - me - of which he was rather chuffed.]

Wow. Ego.

I was furious, and told him to get stuffed. Fix this mess we are in and maybe I will talk to you again.

He has since been away from the Villa except for once, on his own course work. I talk to Franz, often to Claire, but George has made himself scarce, because he knows I am not kidding. It is the worst personal betrayal since incarnating a long time ago in a galaxy far far away (which was also his idea. 'It'll be fun, we can have adventures.')

Hrm.

I should say that he IS very good with other people, because he is neutral or benignly neutral about them This is the same reason that Franz is better with me, because he is  [mostly] neutral.

I can hear your objections to some of this, mainly that those finished incarnating are still subject to a learning curve. Yes. Until the mid-Causal - or Mental - Plane. Yes they are.
The Mental Plane: The First Heaven
 The Mental Plane: The Second Heaven
The Mental Plane: The Third Heaven

George is only at the level of the mid part of the lower Mental Plane. He has a way to go. He is getting there, learning and worked. Making mistakes is how we learn.
He won't forget this one.

A friend of mine who is a 'brother' of sorts to George made the comment some years ago that Claire has caught them up very quickly, in relative terms. She is in the lower part of the Mental plane, after having been far far below them in age and experience not so very long ago, relatively speaking - a couple of cycles ago.

In answer to why can't I just 'skip over to another timeline' as is popularly supposed in the New Age community, A distinction must be drawn between my self and Claire (Self). We are and are not the same thing. In the Michael teaching, individuals are referred to as 'fragments' and this is valid. Each individual lifetime is its own 'thing' and does not have all the knowledge of the Higher Self. We cannot simply bootstrap ourselves to that level (as scientologist acquaintances of mine seem to think.) Neither does the individual have all the knowledge of other fragments of the HS,which aren't necessarily in the same 'reincarnational' line as oneself, unless there is some reason to have it. All are 'Me' but not all are 'me', if you get my drift.

And there is the matter of 'interference' by certain negatively oriented densities (up til the mid-5th  density one can be negatively oriented) in the over-arching world plot and individuals' lives. It has been brought to my attention several times that there are those who are interfering at high levels - as in with the Committees which create the big, worlds plots, which I think is valid based on my observations. Why? because they can. (It also places the level of the Committees, because if they were in the upper Mental plane, they could not be influenced (interfered with).

This discussion goes right back to the nature of the 'local sub-logos' (what most people mean when they refer to 'God') as my Canadian friend Mark calls it. I mentioned once to him that I perceived that not only was 'God' not the Ultimate or Source, but that there was (at least) one 'above' that before one reached Source, the Tao ,All that is , whatever. and he responded with his 'local sub-logos' comment.

These are the limits of my understanding, my personal observations. I know the planes between the Mental and the 'local sub-logos' as charted vibrationally and from the teachers who come from there and talk to us in large groups There. But that is all.

None of this helps one whit with the extreme density of the physical plane, so-called free will, being interfered with here (because they can and are allowed to because 'free will' and 'all experiences are data'.) We're not 'on our own' here -we do have help and guidance, but we are responsible for our own experience here. Hail Mary plays (to use a football term) from discarnate friends are not always allowed. Yes prayer works - mostly to combat the negativity and interference, so far as I have been able to see. We're supposed to do the best we can once we get here, and if we get waylaid, well, someone else will do whatever later (like the instance of Tesla's work being railroaded and finally taken up again by others now.) Time doesn't mean very much to the Committee. Not does personal suffering. It's all fodder for the game.

And if that sounds like the Hunger Games, well. Yes.

Angels

My next youngest sibling, my dear brother Greg, is in the hospital at this moment, while cardiologists are trying to figure out the cause of his manifold blood clots in various organs. He who has been through so much already - including cancer twice. He had been having knee pain (from an old injury, he thought). Then his leg swelled up. Happily, our brother Tom was visiting and mentioned DVT and embolisms. It was caught in time. Everyone is worried of course, including my brother, from his mamma, my dear stepmom, to old childhood friends. He is in good hands, however, and not just here.

We were out on an errand, and I had a very clear strong picture of Dad, our grandparents Mudd and JT as well as dear stepmom's mother Gert, all There, all lending energy and love and focus to the situation. As Dad said ' You Think I'm going to let him Die?!' I repeated this to my brother, slightly amended.

It's a rather scary way to know it for certes, but it is very true that we are NEVER ALONE. Our guides, and beloved ones There are always looking out for us.

I love you, Pops.

Retrieval VI -Tween

It was brought to my attention by Franz that part of the problem of recurring life crashes also comes from the experience I had as a young girl and teenager. When the adoptive mother died, the adoptive father went into a severe depression. Oh, he went to work every day, but there was no food except potatoes and beans, no medical care for the child, no money for clothes or sanitary supplies (let alone going out with friends). Some of this was ameliorated by the advent of friends of his when the child was 14, but the damage - physical, emotional, mental - had been done.

So Claire and I go to the house of my childhood, dressed in business clothes, under the shade of the elm trees, and up the path. Claire reminds me very much in clothes and manner of Dana Scully [X Files]. The house has not yet been turned into a monstrosity, as it was later at the behest of his third wife. We ring the bell and wait. Behind the coloured glass of the door, there is a figure. It bends, peering out the letterbox.

'We are from Child Protective Services,' says Claire crisply. 'Will you open the door please?'
The door opens with slow caution. There is a thin child with dark circles under her eyes. About 12 years old. Wearing cheap, shabby, too-small tank top and shorts. She looks at us fearfully.
C: May we come in?
The girl stares at us.
C: we are here to help you. We won't hurt you.
She flashes a County employee badge. The girl nods, and opens the door wider.
C: Where is your father?
D: Out. I don't know where.
She is stammering.
C: That's as well.

We go inside and sit on the sofa in the living room. The child is sitting on the ottoman. No shoes. Claire takes firm but gentle charge.
C: I am Miss Offreduccio [St. Clare's last name]. I would like to ask you some questions about how you are doing.
D: Who sent you?
She is still stammering in fear.
K: A neighbour... Mary Lou. She is concerned about you.
This neighbour actually was apparently concerned at the time. She nods.
Claire proceeds to ask her how often the parent is gone, what she eats and how often, and asks if she has adequate clothes and medical care. writing down all the answers on a clipboard she has pulled from her briefcase. She betrays no emotion, simply nods and writes. At length, however, the girl is crying and she looks up with empathy.
C: you don't have to worry any more, D. You will be taken care of now. I promise.
D: what about him? [the adoptive father]
C: We will deal with him. Don't worry.
She stands up and looks at me.
C: Miss Watters will help you pack the things you want to take with you and change your clothes. Then we will go to a nice place where you will be looked after.

So saying, I take the child to her room, letting her lead the way, even though I know it. We search the closet for a dress. My hand hovers over the green-flocked white one that was worn to the adoptive mother's funeral.
D: Not that! I hate it. Burn it!
I pick a red plaid cotton instead. It is rather too small, being 3 years old, but clean. We search for whole undergarments and shoes. The only nice shoes are also too small. We opt for sandals. When she is dressed, I fix her hair in an ingenue style, half-up in a ponytail, and tie it up with ribbon.
Then I help her pack an old suitcase with the small treasures she wants to bring. We are ready.

We go out, and Claire has left a note on the dining table to the 'adoptive father' [who is of course not there; the girl has been alone all this while.] Nodding to us, she ushers us out and closes the door firmly.
C: Let's go.
Taking the girl by the hand, we walk to the end of the large street adjacent to the house and turn, upwards toward what would be a bridge over the river, but we are speeding along toward the Children's Centre.

At the Centre, we are greeted warmly by the Directress, who is out in front. Then, Patricia, my sister, comes running down the steps and flings herself with joy on the girl, who is crying now for a different reason. She is the same age as the girl [for convenience's sake]. and, arms intertwined, they go inside without a backward glance. She will be quickly assimilated with the other fragmented parts, and go to live with her sister in her cottage.

I feel emotional. The long nightmare legacy of want and deprivation, of no one to care for that young girl at a critical time in her life, is over.
Finit. Amen.

C: Apart from the resonance [of herself, St. Clare], the desire to escape to safety and being cared for forever was a large unconscious part of the motivation to be a Poor Clare.
K: Yes, I can see that.
C: It's not a reason for not being accepted, or remaining, but several key elements would have been missed [my kids, my brothers...]
K: Noted.
She smiles at me, St. Clare's brilliant smile.
C: Let's go home, shall we?

Highland Clearances

I chanced upon the following over on Bruce Moen's Afterlife Knowledge forum and it really got my attention, as this has been my experience of the lower to mid Astral as well. This was written in 2008, but it still applies, as this work continues (needless to say), by volunteers here and those whose job it is There to do such retrievals.

But lately I am finding all these areas between 21 and 27 becoming less dense, less extensive, less populated. I am told they are being "cleared up to 27" and also find 27 MUCH more extensive and expansive/expanding than it has been. It used to be a place of stillness for me, and I find it MUCH more energized and populated. By the same token, beings with whom I have visited extensively on Focus 27 are moving to higher vibrational reals as well. My mother, who formerly "worked" in the Healing and Rejuvenation Center is no longer there, and is found more and more frequently farther on--- like around 33/34 for me. The Gathering (both Bruce and Bob Monroe wrote about it) is 34/35. I find my "I-there" someplace like 42 or so, and beyond that I sort of lose my way as yet...... but I do know it keeps on and one.

So to my inquiry---

Anyone else finding this thinning? As there are fewer beings there, there is less thought to sustain the illusion and these towns and cities are thinning and dissolving back in to the quantum field from which the thoughts collapsed them in the frist place. Like the path to 27 is being rebuilt and reinforced so peole don't take so many little detours along the way, and 27 is growing in preparation.

All of my exploration has been about the Earth Changes for which The Gathering is occurring. These times and these changes are upon us. I got some truly startling and almost unbelievable information exploring The Gathering and interacting with the energies there, and look forward to more at Starline (at Monroe) in July. Such information is for a different post if anyone is interested.

Your experiences of this phenomenon are most welcome.

Bekka - Retrieval V

This was something of an experiment, and I felt quite sick at the prospect. I wasn't sure where I would find her, or who to 'be'.

Berlin, 1950

 In traveling down to the lower astral, I find myself in Berlin in 1950, beside the railroad station adjacent to her apartment building.  I love the buildings, and the cleanness of everything as compared to 2015, even in this situation. I have decided to be Ingrid Hemmendorf, a friend of hers in the BDM and NSF (women's org) during the war. Ingrid was also of a once well-off family. I am wearing a sage-green suit and pink blouse, lovely upswept hair -very blonde- and heels. Visiting clothes.

I go up to ring the bell and two men come up behind me. Not the Secret Police. Sepp in a dark-blue suit and pale blue shirt with no tie - casual wear; and Otto (Franz in disguise. 'Uncle Otto' who was actually a cousin once removed and only ten years older than Bekka). Tall, stately, dark. Like a film star, in a beautiful, expensive  dark suit. A welcoming committee. Sepp makes a joke about taking a holiday but being under dressed, compared to his companion. 

She buzzes the door open and we walk up the green-carpeted hall. The carpet is shabby, the walls rather dingy. There is a lift but it doesn't work, so we walk up the stairs to the first floor. Down to the left, then on the right is her flat. Number 13 (floor plus room, first floor, third room). Otto knocks on the door. She opens it, her face alight.

'Uncle Otto!' She clasps his hand. She is wearing a wool maroon dress and frilly apron (for receiving, not for housework), her hair done, with the front swept up and curled all round. Worn, but good shoes. The small flat is immaculate, but shows signs that she changed since the street door bell - the bedroom door is ajar and there is the smell of face powder.

She invites us all in and greets us warmly, one by one. Leading to the chairs  in the sitting room, she returns with coffee and sachertorte on a tray. Tiny demitasse cups. The tray and dishes all clearly are second-hand, but the cutlery is actual silver. 

"I am sorry that Karl is at school until later, so you cannot see him,' she says, sitting down and passing the items. The armchair  she sits in is square, of a shiny green fabric, second-hand. To its right is a better chair that Sepp sits in, myself on a kitchen chair and Otto on the small sofa, across from her. Otto holds up his hand.
'It is no trouble. We will see him later.'

There is some short time of catching up - enquiries after friends and relative. She is happy, if wistful. I get the impression from her that she envies us our ability to 'move around', as she is 'stuck in Berlin' working at the coffeehouse. Sepp is slouched in the chair, Thomas-fashion, with the cake plate balanced on his chest. He rubs his jaw ironically, and drawls, 'Well, funny thing, I am going on a holiday to Bern, and when I was arranging it, I happened upon your uncle.... I was wondering id you would like to come along, and show me the sights, visit your family....' Worst non-sequitor ever. Way to be subtle.  It;s hardly even probable that  he would have encountered Otto in a booking agent's here in Berlin. But she is so happy to see them, she takes all of it at face value.

She looks at Otto, with a joyful, expectant, questioning expression. Is it possible? Possible to 'be forgiven' (for something that was out of her control!), welcomed back into the bosom of a family that she left at age 8. She and her boy. Otto is smiling. 'That's what I came here for, to ask if you would come  and stay with us at the Bergschlosse, you and Karl,,,' He looks at Sepp with a sardonic smile. 'The General is most welcome,' he says with courtliness. Sepp is smirking. Somewhere, Wolf and the other Habsburgs are bursting into flames. Bekka is very moved. 'Thank you, Uncle!' She repeats this many times.

'Ingrid can help you pack,' Otto says. 'We will wait.' He looks at Sepp. 

'There is sherry on the cabinet,' Bekka says, gesturing to the buffet under the window. The decanter and glasses are old, gold-rimmed.... Sepp looks like he has been invited to drink poison, but Otto, now smirking, brings over the glasses.

Meanwhile, I go with Bekka into the one bedroom. There is a very small 'double' bed, a dressing table, wardrobe, and chair. From underneath the bed, she  retrieves two battered old suitcases. A smallish pullman and a smaller dressing case.

'I'm afraid there isn't much to pack,' she apologises. Going to the wardrobe, there are two dresses, an extra school uniform, and in the drawers beneath, two sets of underclothes each, a pair of capris and top, and a scarf. (But it is an Hermes scarf.)

'That's quite all right,' I say. 'I'm sure there will be time to get suitable things in Switzerland.'

We pack up the few clothes and I put the items from the dressing table quietly in the small case. There are a few photographs: her parents, one of Otto, and one of the Berghof (! I am uncertain as to whether I should include this). I ask her if she wants to take these with her.

'Why?'

'Well, Otto seemed to imply that you would be staying.'

She stops folding the sheet from the bed she has stripped, and stares at me. Looking around the room, almost alarmed, she regards me in consternation.

'I didn't think of that!' Her hand goes to her hair. I smile.

'You look lovely. Perfectly presentable to your family.' 

'I must at least remove my apron!' 

She does so, then 'What about collecting Karl  from school?' She looks at her watch. 'It isn't nearly time.'

'I'll see.' I go out.

Sepp and Otto are exchanging rude stories. Otto is smoking a cigarette elegantly. I tell them we need Karl. Otto shakes his head, mashing out the cigarette in the tray.

'Not a problem.' He goes to the telephone - heavy, black, Lucite - and speaks to the 'operator' then rings off. 'Tell her he is being sent for.'

I do and help bring the cases out. She has put on a little round cocktail hat - a circle of velvet and net with cherries - lipstick, and dark gloves.

'Hubba hubba,' says Sepp, and whistles through his teeth. She blushes. Otto comes and takes her hands.

'You look lovely.'

There is is a sound at the door,and Karl bursts in, an 8 year old boy in shorts and coat - his school uniform. Looking exactly like Otto as a child.

'Mamma!' He runs over and flings himself on her. (I understand that she has actually been all alone, forever waiting one afternoon for him to come home from school.)

'Well, he certainly is one of us,' Otto says drily. He makes a bow. 'Hello, boy. I am your uncle Otto.'

Karl stops and looks up curiously. ' You look like Grandfather.' (The picture on the dressing table.)

'He was my uncle,' Otto says.

'Liebling,' says Bekka,' we are going on a journey with Uncle and the General to visit my aunt Sophie in Switzerland.'

'When, Mamma?'

'Now,' says Otto.

At that, all rise and do out, downstairs, and to the train station adjacent. Here 'Ingrid' will leave them, and when they stop, they will be in Switzerland here. I turn to Bekka. 'It was so good to see you again my dear! You will write?'

'Yes. Thank you for coming, Ingrid. It is good to see old friends.' There are presses of both cheeks. I watch them  go through the gate and wave them off as Otto hands the cases to a porter. The green train starts off slowly.

I can feel her happiness. She will heal in Switzerland, with family and friends, and move on to her life here, one of us. Helping others, perhaps. Immortal. The dark wound of the past erased.

***

Convo with Franz. I thank him for stepping in, and playing it to the hilt.

K: So, what will this freeing of Bekka accomplish for me, if anything? (I understand perfectly well what it will accomplish for her.)

F: An easing of the 'tragedienne' complex that Claire has mentioned, specifically of 'putting yourself last' and into situations that are impossible to extricate yourself from without help from us. It will also clear out any lingering feelings of 'not belonging'. The nearer she moves to Switzerland, the better she and you feel. When she is there, in the bosom of her family, the realisation of what kind of holiday she is on will dawn [that she is dead] and she will begin to work on experience - processing, releasing.  She may then be in Switzerland or anywhere else here she chooses. For you, the 'desire to be just a housewife' will wane, as well as freeing  the energy surrounding the conflicts regarding hearth and home.

Young women of the BDM

 

Bekka-esque

Sepp

Sepp and Ursula

 

 Otto, Regina, and kinder

Otto

Otto as a child. Both Bekka and her son Karl looked like this.

* Legacy. The Karl here mentioned is Otto's son. The article below was written in 2004.

Karl Habsburg and two relatives are demanding that property worth hundreds of millions of pounds, including several castles and about 50,000 acres of woodland, be given back to the family in a claim filed with the Austrian Restitution Fund for the Victims of National Socialism.

Mr Habsburg, 42, dropped the aristocratic "von" from his name before becoming an MEP for the conservative Austrian People's Party. His father, Otto von Habsburg, is the head of the family.

The intervention by the dynasty's future patriarch has given fresh impetus to a campaign launched by other members of a family whose empire once stretched across much of central and eastern Europe. They say that if they win, the property will be placed in a trust for the benefit of 160 surviving Habsburgs.

"We don't want to be treated like second-class citizens any longer," said Christian Habsburg, the Euro MP's cousin, who co-filed last week's claim. "The Habsburgs were dispossessed by the Nazis and should be handed back property by the state, just like all the other victims of national socialism.

"We are talking about properties that my family had privately owned that were seized by the Nazis in 1938 and then taken after the war without compensation."
Research conducted by Otto's brother, the late Carl-Ludwig von Habsburg, revealed that Hitler had personally directed the campaign against the family.
The best-known asset is Laxenburg Palace and its extensive park, just outside Vienna. The palace, which dates to the middle ages, is open to the public and a popular destination for Viennese day-trippers and tourists. The total value of the disputed property has yet to be calculated, but the forests alone are worth about £135 million.
Although the Habsburgs were robustly anti-Hitler, there is disquiet in republican Austria at the idea of the Nazi restitution fund being used to aid the former royal ruling family when many Holocaust victims are still awaiting compensation. Austrian governments have previously said that they oppose paying money from the fund to the Habsburgs.
Yet Herbert Golsong, a Washington-based lawyer representing the family, said: "This was an act of Nazi revenge. It was a personal instruction from Hitler because members of the Habsburg family were employed in anti-Nazi propaganda abroad, especially in the US." The family had also helped Jewish people to flee to America, he said.