It was calm and sunny this Saturday past and many of the people of Oso were enjoying the good weather out in their gardens and patios while others relaxed indoors playing games, watching television, reading their newspapers, or sleeping in. On the roads going by were couples and families out for a drive in the country.
There was absolutely no warning before the slope above, sodden from heavy rains in the weeks previous, suddenly gave way and burying and sweeping away a neighborhood of 60 homes, around 200 human residents, and unknown numbers of animals and passers-by.
Voices could be heard from beneath the mud crying out for help, but the mess that had engulfed them was like quick sand, impassable for the whole rest of that day. By morning, there were no more voices heard.
It took 3 days for rescuers to really start making headway as the mud slowly solidified in places. They’ve rescued several people alive but have found more dead, already suffocated. Of course already suffocated.
One old man they managed to pull out alive said he’d been sitting in his easy chair in the living room, his wife in her own easy chair beside him when suddenly they were buried. He doesn’t say how he managed to breathe in his 3 days awaiting rescue. I assume there was an air pocket there somehow. He only mentions that he stuck his cane through the mud to signal for help. All he’d talk about when they first dug him out was, “Please, rescue my wife! She’s right there! She’s right there!” And she was. Only she hadn’t made it. He can’t talk about her without sobbing.
I have trouble wrapping my head around what that’s like, for either of them; for ANY of them. Buried alive. What a chilling concept! And to think in Christendom and many other traditional societies, it was common to punish people by burying them alive.
The thought of that is like a scab I just have to pick at. I don’t know if this is normal or not, but when something really scares me, I really can’t stand living in fear so I go out of my way to confront it as best I can. If I were stalked, for instance, I would stalk my stalker. Been there, done that. Chased a would-be rapist into a marsh with my car after he’d tried and failed to grab me with evil intent very clearly on his mind. Another story for another time.
I read of a woman accused of aborting her baby when she miscarried and the magistrate ordered her buried alive between layers of thorns with a bowl placed over her face that had a hole in it for a straw to her mouth to pass through (apparently for breathing or for blood to spurt?). She was to be jumped on three times by the executioner before being covered with earth. Lucky her, a compassionate noble woman over rode the magistrate before the sentence could be carried out and the accused was then drowned instead.
Another live burial I read about it was later declared a Saint by the Catholic church. I cannot recall his name, just that he was a priest who had something to do with the building of a new cathedral that was going so badly that everyone started saying it was the Devil himself trying to prevent its being built. So future Saint guy offers himself as a sacrifice to god in hopes of, what, god deciding to defeat the Devil and let the cathedral be built? Not sure. Seems kind of crazy to me, but the intent was selfless.
His sacrifice involved his being buried alive. If it worked, he said, and the cathedral could then be built, he asked to be dug up again. Again with the strange logic is that with no apparent physical protections, he did expect to be dug up alive and, oddly enough, when the cathedral was finally completed many days or months afterward, he WAS dug up alive.
Unfortunately, the first thing he did after his face was cleared of dirt and he’d taken a deep gulp of air, was start talking. He said he’d been dead for most of the time he was buried and he’d seen a wonderful Afterlife. His friends started talking happily of miracles and Heaven. Then he started talking about how there really wasn’t a Heaven and a Hell, that this wonderful Afterlife was for everyone, not just Believers, and they buried him right back up again to shut him up. They didn’t want to hear it. It shook their narrow minded little worlds. And there he was left to die again.
I read quite a lot of stories about people being buried alive by accident and just as many, if not more, about they’re being buried alive on purpose. Some of these stories were people’s memories of past lives. Naturally, this led me next to wonder what happened to the people that had done this terrible thing to them. What happened to bad guys in general: terrorists, murderers, rapists, pedophiles, dictators, torturers, theocrats, the pitch fork wielding rabble, the Nazis, Westborough Baptists, Fred Phelps, the cruel fundamentalists that aren’t any fun at all for anyone but ARE mostly mental…?
I tried googling “Past life memory as a dictator” but all I got was a list of dictator and lists of all their monstrous insane deeds that somehow their people actually put up with for a time when often it only took a small number of very pissed off people to overthrow them, though some ruled for a long time. Why were they even tolerated? It was DEPRESSING! But really, what did I expect?
I didn’t really want to go there. The irony of this is a novel manuscript I’ve been playing with since my 25-year-old son was a baby. It has an evil dictator in it that’s really an alien conqueror out to enslave the tattered remains of the human race after a huge natural disaster. I have no problem with the other characters. I’ve dreamed them so often, they’re like old friends. But the dictator; he’s a PROBLEM. Every time I compare him to real-life dictators and theocrats I read about, he comes out looking like a pussy cat. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the level of evil that really exists out there, let alone write about it. You know?
Anyway, so I started just looking at past life memories in general and had more success. Didn’t find any dictators proper, but I did find some murderers, robbers, and a few Nazis… and found them reborn into ordinary lives but with left over terrors of not only how they died but also of the things they did to others. I also found many of their victims.
Detour here. Several of the books I’ve read about inter-life experiences, regressions, and progressions, have mentioned that those whose souls have brought a great deal of injury to other souls are reborn immediately upon their deaths. Other souls are cared for at inter-life healing centers before mainstreaming into life on the other side, enjoying themselves, travelling, assessing their just-completed lives, helping others, and/or going to schools before deciding to be reborn again at their leisure. Rebirth is never intended as a punishment, but as a chance to overcome character flaws and become a better soul. Needless to say, the most flawed require the most concentrated effort. If they were feeling vengeful when they died, they have a chance at getting vengeance as well as the chance to let it pass and get over it. If they were cruel to others, they will have the chance to experience what they did to others or even to be forgiven. They will be attracted to the souls of people they knew in their lives past whether friends or enemies and they will eventually work out their differences. They have all the time in the universe, as ephemeral as time really is.
I found the cases I read about supported this very well and I should have known I would. Sometimes I see bits and pieces of the past lives of others as well as my own. I saw one, for instance, that my son Andy and daughter Amy once shared back in the late 1920s or early 1930s. In that life, he was Japanese and she was a glamorous young American woman with green eyes and long auburn hair. I gathered they were lovers or very close in some other way. But I saw them quarrel atop a roof top where there was a garden and that he pushed her over the edge in a purple-faced jealous fury.
She landed face-first on the windshield of the car my incarnate soul was driving at the time. I was staring, shocked, into her eyes as the life poured out of them.
They came to this life as my children in order to work out whatever their differences were then. They fought viciously throughout their childhood and I swear almost killed each other on occasion, but are now best friends.
I also read stories of people facing their deaths, most often with no pain, or pain that was only temporary. Then a letting go, a surrender, happens and an eider-down blanket of calm falls with light shining into their personal darkness like light at the end of a tunnel.
Birth, rites of adulthood, initiation, marriage, divorce, and death… These are all important rites of passage, the journey or transition between one state of being and another. The most painful of these common ones anyone remembers is Birth, not death. Few people enjoy having to go through the helpless vulnerability, the voicelessness, the relearning of basics that comes with babyhood all over again. Beyond that, it’s regret that comes next as the worst thing; regret for all sorts things done or not done.
Ironically, death, the most feared, is the easiest. Even so, considering how suddenly it comes and how our lives and souls are so intricately entwined, it best to do like the song says and “Live life like you’re dying.” You never know when you’ll have to say goodbye to someone or something you love and/or desire even if is only temporary in the greater scheme of things.