Love & Light and everything bright...

Aug 9, 2011

Released Aug 9, 2011 - 17 century-long shapeshifting journey from Sword to Lotus Flower, update Aug 10: Wikipedia Letter, Constantine's Message 2011 Video, Constantine Deletion Rainbow Blessing; Eve's Intuition as Fausta

Constantine's Trail of Tears

Retracing memories and emotions of Constantine's personal life through relationships in current incarnation brings out pain, tears, and finally... release, freedom

FROM HAIKU, MAUI

A PERSONAL ESSAY: "Constantine and I, Part III"

(click here to read Part I, click here to read Part II which the author recommends for a full understanding this story)

 

17 century-long shapeshifting journey from Sword to Lotus Flower

Constantine's Trail of Tears

Retracing memories and emotions of Constantine's personal life through relationships in current incarnation  brings out pain, tears, and finally... release, freedom

On June 27, 2011, I first intuited that I had been the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great in one of my past lives.  It was a scary thought.  Nevertheless, I got my nerve up, and on June 28 wrote an essay titled "Constantine and I."  About a month later,  I got more hits.  The result was Constantine: First Christian to Rule with Sword (July 31) - a purging of my public life.  Since that time, intuition hits have been popping up like mushrooms.  My spirit guides were really prodding me to go on on a Trail of Tears, a story of Constantine's private life, the hardest part of the trail. There were so many dots.  The challenge was to link them with an invisible thread into a tapestry of life, a huge life, a life that had shaped the mankind for millennia.  And then to delete that karma... both from my personal and from mankind's consciousness, thus helping  liberate us all from violent lifetimes.

That process started this weekend.  My guides pulled out all stops and used multiple dimensions and various media to reach into my soul and pull me along this Trail of Tears.  The Song of My Soul (Aug 7) was one checkpoint on it. Interestingly, it connected to "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" (Apr 7) which I recorded four months ago before I became conscious of my Constantine lifetime.   So another thread... through music, a part of many more intuitive hits that led to this story.

I also became aware this weekend that I have been retracing Constantine's life almost literally since birth.  Not necessarily in the same chronological order.  But I have been to all major venues in his life.  Except one.  The most famous one.  Constantinople.  The "New Rome." The first Christian capital in the world.  Something subconscious kept me away.

So that's where I must go to complete this deletion and put a period on my Constantine lifetime.  He was about my age now when he died in 337AD.  After I plant a pink lotus flower at his grave, I will free myself and the world of his terrible legacy.  That's a guidance I received this weekend as I traveled through time 17 centuries back to retrieve my soul and emotional memories.   During that journey, my intuition shed the light.  My mind produced the clues and asked questions.   My heart provided the answers.  My guides did the rest of the work keeping me on the trail.

Childhood: Tough Neighborhood

HAIKU, Maui, Aug 9, 2011 - I grew up in a tough neighborhood.  Male children are bread to be soldiers in the part of the world I was born in (see blue circle on the map). There is a very good reason for it. The Balkans is sometimes called a "graveyard of empires."  This is where Europe meets Asia.  This is the land across which conquerors from the east and from the west had to pass on their way to glory or damnation.  So the people on the territory of former Yugoslavia are used to fighting off foreign invaders.  What they are not used to is defending themselves from themselves.  Which is why any kid who doesn't act like a tough guy is mocked and ridiculed.

My father (right) was a tough kid. He came from a peasant family of 10 children. He was the only one picked to go to school.  So he finished not only high school but also got an engineering degree from the Belgrade University.  Which was very untypical in those days. But that did not let him off the hook back home.  He spent his summers working the fields of the family farm like everybody else.  When World War II started, he had the rank of a captain in the Yugoslav army who commanded an anti-aircraft unit in Novi Sad, on the river Danube.  They fired on Luftwaffe planes at Easter, April 6, 1941, when Hitler bombed Belgrade to signal the start of his war against Yugoslavia. Later, my father displayed tremendous courage and cunning when he used his command of the German language to free himself and his entire unit from a German prisoner of war camp. Eventually, he joined the anti-Nazi resistance movement and worked as an undercover agent right under the German noses. For his service to the cause of freedom, he was "rewarded" by a long prison sentence.  Tito, the Yugoslav president, failed to shoot a deer one day during a diplomatic hunt my father was orchestrating. Of course, he was not charged with that.  He was accused of trying to assassinate Tito.  When prosecutors failed to prove it despite using torture to extract a confession, my father was convicted of a lesser charge.  He was released from prison in 1954.  I never learned the full story until I was 21.

So my father tried to raise me the only way he knew, the way his father and grandfather raised him - to be a tough kid.  Up until the time he went to prison, I would have to report to him every afternoon after my mandatory nap (which I hated) about my daily transgressions.  And there were always some.  I was into some sort of mischief almost every day.  Then I, not my father, would also have to pronounce the sentence.  He would ask me how many lashes with his leather belt my misdeeds were worth that day.  If I were too soft on myself, he would double the punishment.  So I always added a few extra lashes just to be on the safe side. [mark 1st dot in Constantine's life story].

Prison Visit

When they came to arrest my father, I was playing in our backyard.  I watched two uniformed policemen arrive and walk into the house.  Since my father had a high security clearance and we had dignitaries coming and going all the time, including Tito and other top government officials, I did not think anything of it. It was not until the two policemen came out of the house, with my father walking between them, that I became a little curious.  I do not recall seeing the cuffs on this hands as I was quite far away, but I suspect he must have had them.

When I walked into the house, the whole place looked like it had been ransacked.  The policemen had evidently turned everything upside down searching for "evidence" of the alleged assassination plot. Still, my mother and grandmother managed somehow to quiet my fears. I do not recall any emotional trauma over it. 

Two years passed.  We came pretty close to starvation. Our neighbors shunned us for fear they might be also persecuted.  There was one exception... a medical doctor who lived across the street who was a friend of my father's.  He brought us food every once in a while. 

(More than forty years later, we had the privilege of paying back his kindness with kindness. This doctor and his family became refugees during the "ethnic cleansing" of the Serbs in the Muslim part of Bosnia where they lived... something Americans never heard about from our lamestream media which always portrayed the Serbs as predators, not victims.  When they arrived in Serbia, my mother helped them with shelter, linen and clothes for a while.  I helped them financially).

Back to 1952, my mother, sister and I are on a long train ride to Slovenia.  Lepoglava is a an old fortress that was also used a the Austrian Empire for political prisoners.  So Tito continued the tradition.  Only now the enemies of the communist regime occupied its cell rather than those who opposed the Habsburg monarchs.  As a seven-year old, of course, I had no idea about any of that.  All I remember is arriving and this cold and foreboding place with high stone walls.  And a long corridor with open air windows cut in the stone. 

After a while, my father arrived wearing blue prison uniform.  It was only then that it hit me for the first time.  My father was not "just away on business," or some other similar story my mother and grandmother made up.  He is in prison!  To me, he was God.  How can God be in prison??  My young mind could not wrap itself around that conundrum.  I burst out in tears and uncontrollable convulsions.  I evidently cause so much commotion and racket that even the prison guards felt sorry and tried to comfort me.  "Don't cry. Your father will be home soon," one of them told me.

On Sep 3, 1953 my father arrived home.  He was wearing the same blue prison overalls when I saw him at the opposite end of our backyard. I screamed for joy and ran into his arms.  Fifty eight years later, I still remember the scene and feel the elations as if happened yesterday. [mark 2nd dot in Constantine's life story].

First Crime

Please don't feel sorry for me here. I, as Constantine, did a lot worse to other people than just ordering a few lashes.  I also remember doing something as a little kid for which I was not punished because I never shared it with anyone.  That's because at the time I felt no guilt about it.  It was only later as a grown up that I realized the gravity of what I did. So this is my first confession about it. Ever. 

I grew up basically as an only child. My sister was over nine years older.  I used to spend most days playing in our fenced backyard. I am guessing I am about four or five at the time of this memory.  Besides my love of music which manifested itself at the time when I tried to emulate the Gypsy musicians (see Dance of Stars, July 22), I also loved ceremony (my 7th ray soul manifesting itself?).  I used to make little wooden crosses to use as grave markers.  Then I would perform funeral ceremonies.  Now, here's the terrible part.  I would catch some baby chicks and ring their necks they way I saw the grown-ups do it.  Then I would bury the chicks and pretend I was a priest sending them off to heaven.  As I said, I felt absolutely no guilt at the time for killing the baby chicks.  They were like stuffed animals to me, objects to use in my ceremonies.  That's why I never told my father about it.  Nor anyone else.  Till now.

Perhaps that was the first spark of the brutal Constantine in me, even if it flared up from the subconscious. Maybe that's why I have been led to the path of shamanism and love of all things living and inanimate (see Shepherd of the Earth, July 18, User ID/Password required).  Every tree and flower I have planted at our property here in Maui has grown from the seeds of the crosses on the graves of those little chicks. The birthing of new life as an adult was my form of repentance for that childhood sin.  I am also going to stop eating eggs for the rest of my life.  That's the guidance I received just now as I was writing this paragraph.  "I am sorry, the baby chicks," that I deprived you of a chance to lay eggs. [tears]  [mark 3rd dot in Constantine's life story].

First Kiss, First Betrayal

Everybody remembers their first kiss, right? Well, mine happened when I was about 13 or 14.  The girl's name was Nevenka.  Which roughly translates into Innocent in English.  The significance of that only hit me in the last few days.  Nevenka was a beautiful girl, gentle as a flower, with a smile that would melt the Alps.  I was as shy as can be.  And awkward.  It took me a long time to work up the courage to approach her in a romantic way. But when I did, luckily she liked me, too. So we held hands walking on the Sava river bank, went to the movies, and... one day we kissed. It was heaven. I thought my heart would jump out of my chest as I walked home afterward.

When I got home, my father and mother looked rather grim.  I knew that look on their faces.  A Star Chamber was in session and I was to enter the prisoner dock. Turns out the word got out about my little romance. So they were here to tell me that Nevenka the Innocent (what irony in the name!) was the wrong girl for me.  She was from the "other side of the tracks," to use an American metaphor.  In other words, not good enough for me. So I was to break off the relationship.  Or else...

I felt terrible.  My first love and I had to kill it before it even had a chance to blossom.  But at 14 or so, I was still an obedient son.  so with a heavy heart and feeling like a heel, I broke off the relationship.  Of course, Nevenka the Innocent was also heartbroken.  Even more so because she was an innocent victim of the class strata which existed in implicit form even in a communist society.

I never got over that betrayal.  Luckily, I got a chance to ask and receive Nevenka the Innocent's forgiveness.  It came 35 years later when, while working as a war correspondent in the Balkans, I had a chance to attend the 30th reunion of my high school class in Sremska Mitrovica, the modern name for the old Roman capital of Sirmium that lies underneath.  It was the first time I had seen Nevenka the Innocent in decades.  As the evening progressed, and most people were getting more and more drunk, I came over and sat down next to her.  We spent the rest of the night together.  Not sexually.  I was a married man back then.  We allowed our souls to make love to each other and make up for all those decades we had missed.  We walked till dawn.  I asked for her forgiveness which she gave me as easily as she offered me her love when we were 14.  The sun had already risen by the time I walked Nevenka the Innocent back to her car in the hotel parking lot.  We kissed again 35 years after our first kiss. [mark 4th dot in Constantine's life story].

Bora: Brother-Father-Son Figure

My late cousin Bora, my mother's sister's son, was 18 years older than I.  Yet he was the closest man I have known in my entire life.  He was my brother and my father, and later, he would also become my son. 

During WW II, Bora lived with my parents.  His father was a prisoner of war in Germany.  His mother, like my father, was a part of the anti-Nazi resistance movement.  But she was unlucky and got caught and arrested by the Gestapo.  Which meant torture and an almost certain death.  So Bora lived to avenge his mother.  At age of 17, roughly the age the photo (right) was taken, he ran away from home to join the freedom fighters against the Nazis.  He distinguished himself as a fearless fighter. 

After the war, he remained in uniform with a unit that was hunting down the Nazi collaborators and other "enemies of the people," meaning the communist regime.  As part of this "cleansing" process, Bora participated in some unspeakable crimes, such as executions of thousands of innocent civilians.  He was lucky enough to be able to quit both the Communist Party and this army unit.  He spent the rest of his life lamenting his role in all this.  He confessed these crimes to me much later, during the phase in our relationship when he was like my son.  He asked me to keep them a secret until his death.  He passed away 10 years ago.

But when I was a child, Bora was the epitome of Love itself to me.  My heart would jump every time I saw him.  He never treated me as a little kid even though he was 18 years older.  We were always brothers in everything.  Yet het was also protective of me.  Even against my father.  One day, he was teasing and tickling me on my parents bed.  We had just moved into this house and the boxes and furniture were all over the place. As I giggled and squirmed to escape his tickling, my foot hit a beautiful porcelain chandelier, my parents' prize pre-war possession, one of the few things that survived all their moves.

My father was furious.  In a wild rage, his eyes bulging with anger, he pulled the infamous leather belt out of his pants.  I thought he was going to kill me.  Interestingly, I was not afraid.  Guess after years of facing that belt I had become numb of fear. But Bora was not going to let him do it. Not this time.  Acting swiftly and spontaneously, he threw himself on top of me.  "If you're going to beat anyone today, beat me," he yelled at my father.

Stunned, my father stopped. His raised arm holding the belt and poised for a hit, fell limply.  I was saved. Bora saved me. [mark 5th dot in Constantine's life story].

College Love, Abortion, Betrayal

When I was a junior in college I felt madly in love with one of my high school friends.  We had lost contact.  Her father was a diplomat and she and her family spent several years in New York. When she returned, we reconnected through another cousin of mine, her former boyfriend.  One thing led to another and we ended up in bed.  And in love, not long afterward.  At least I was.  I am not sure how much in love she was.

After a couple of months, she told me she was pregnant.  Since we were both students without any independent means to support ourselves, her suggestion that she get an abortion seemed reasonable to me.  It sure made things easier - FOR ME.  So I contacted my brother Bora.  I figured he'd know people.  And he did.  It wasn't a big deal. Getting abortions in a communist society was like having your tooth pulled.  Bora and I waited at the doctor's office until the procedure was done, and then we took my girlfriend home.  She never told her parents. I never told mine.  Bora and his wife were the only ones who knew.

Oddly enough, this did not end our relationship.  In fact, it seems to have strengthened it.  At least for a while. A few months later, we decided to get informally engaged.  No rings.  We introduced our respective parents to each other and told them of our intention to get married.  A few weeks later, I caught her cheating with another man while on vacation away from Belgrade.  So that ended the "engagement."  I went off to Switzerland to a summer job and to lick my wounds. 

Twenty seven years after that, also during my work as a war correspondent in the Balkans, I met her again.  We forgave each other whatever there was to forgive and spent some nice social hours together [mark 6th dot in Constantine's life story].

Betty, First Wife

Fast forwarding to North America in 1970, that's when I met my first wife, Betty.  She was taking a tennis lesson on a court next to mine and spraying her balls liberally in my direction.  I don't think it was intentional but it did attract my attention to her.  When her lesson and my match were over, I went over to talk to her. I was still quite shy with women back then, so it took some courage to do it.  But she was very easy to talk to.  I asked her if she wanted to go for a coffee and she accepted. 

When she found out that I was born in Belgrade, her face lit up. Betty and her three sisters actually lived in my hometown at the time when I was in junior high or early high school.  We never met back them.  But we felt an instant bond now.  We were engaged two months later, and married four months after that - on St. Nicholas Day, Dec 19, 1070, my family's patron saint. 

While we were still happily married newlyweds, we went to see the film "Love Story" which was released in early 1971. We both cried at its tragic ending.  "Love means never having to say you're sorry," was the line from the movie we both remembered and loved.

Three months later, Betty was diagnosed with inoperable brain tumor.  Little did we know that in a few months, we'd be living our own version of the "Love Story."  Three months after that, she died in my arms.  Literally.  It was June 24, 1971.

In Nov 2008, I honored her memory with a Despacho (a shamanic offering) and this musical tribute:

Love Story - piano version - by Bob Djurdjevic (Nov 13, 2008)

[mark 7th dot in Constantine's life story].

* * *

Okay, let's stop here.  These have been some of the dots from my childhood and youth and popped up recently.  There have been others, too.  But let's not go there now.  Let's start connecting these seven dots from my current lifetime with the Constantine era...

* * *

Betty-Beth-Janine.... MINERVINA

Those among you who are paying attention may recall that my first Constantine intuition and revelation about that lifetime came right around the 40th anniversary of Betty's death ("Constantine and I").  When I first met Beth on July 5 in Kona, my heart stopped.  I did not know why.  I just felt an instant bond with her. But I did not tell her that until a few weeks later.  This is what I wrote on July 19:

Hi again, Beth.  I just had an amazing memory flash. And the idea seems so "out there" that it scared me.

There is not much doubt that you and I had shared past lifetimes. But what if you may have been my wife in this one?  Or at least one of your splits?  You'd probably think I am certifiably crazy.  And I would not blame you.  But consider this...  

My first wife died of brain tumor in June 1971, six months after we were married.  She was 25. I was 26.  When I first saw you in Kona, I was startled by the instant familiarity I felt. Later, I told you I had felt a deep soul connection.  As evidently have you.  And tonight, after I had sent you the first email, I was stunned by another realization.  

Beth, guess what her name was?  Betty.  

Do you have a picture of yourself when you were 24-25 that you can share with me? Here's Betty at that age [Betty’s photo, Sep 1970, age 24 - see above]

I know, the odds against this intuition being true are truly great.  But there is a possibility of it if the two of you were split souls.  I don't know if there is an age limit between the splits, but anyway, thought I'd share this crazy thought with you.

When Beth wrote back and enclosed one of her pictures, my heart stopped. I knew my intuition was true.

[images removed by author to protect privacy of current incarnations]

Janine Turner (left), an actress is also a split from the same soul.  And when I compared Beth and Betty from a similar younger age (right), they practically looked like twins. 

"Well, this is something," Beth wrote back.  "I had a 'gasp' reaction as I read your email.  The resemblance is obvious as Betty looks like a combination of both me and Janine... Your Betty is so beautiful and I am so sorry that you had to experience this unbelievable loss at such a young age ... both of you!  Wow.  Makes me want to cry.  Makes me cry.  And because it makes me cry, I feel strongly that you are right."

Which, in turn, made me also cry.  But mine were also happy tears.  Because I realized that Betty never really left me.  And has now also returned to my life in a different relationship (Beth is happily married and has a wonderful husband and two gorgeous girls).

But I also realized something else.  That Betty's death must have been karmic.  And because of the timing of my first Constantine revelation, that it must have been somehow related to that lifetime.  This is what I wrote to Beth on July 20:

At first, I thought it was punishment for the way I had treated women as a young man. Except for Betty, I had been quite callous in my prior relationships... the "love them and leave them"-type of a brash young man.  Of course, I have been hurt, too.  So I have since tried to make amends to all the women I have hurt, and offered unconditional forgiveness to all the women who have hurt me.

Then I thought Betty died because of something that happened when I was in college.  In my junior year, I was in love with a young woman who evidently did not love me as much.  When she got pregnant, I was ready to marry her even though neither of us had any means of supporting ourselves at the time.  But she preferred an abortion.  I acquiesced. My elder brother arranged it.  It was the easiest solution for both of us.  

A few years later, I realized how wrong I was to go along with it. I regretted it deeply. Just before I turned 33, I resolved to live the rest of my life without regrets. The first thing I did was quit my cushy job at IBM and start my own business. That was 33 years ago.  I have been trying to stay true to that old vow ever since.

Now I realize that Betty's death was most directly related to my life as Constantine.  Indeed, he had had one of his wives executed as well as his favorite son (from another marriage) whom he was grooming as an heir apparent.  He did it because he believed that the two were having an affair. Again, lots of karma there.

Fast-forward to the night Aug 3-4.  I had two dreams.  In the first dream, I was holding in my hand an owl. I remember being scared at first, thinking it would attack me. But as I called out to someone (Elizabeth?), the owl sort of morphed into my hand and we became one.

I had another emotionally powerful dream just before waking up, after only four hours' sleep (around 6AM). It had to do with a woman from my Constantine lifetime. Beth-Betty? Eve-Elizabeth? I was really bummed out that I cannot remember the story or who the woman was. I told Elizabeth as much over breakfast.

Later in the day (Aug 4), I did some research on owls as sacred animals.  Some Native Americans associate the owl with wisdom, foresight, and keeper of sacred knowledge. The owl's ability to see at night is an attribute that is invoked during ceremonies when an oracle of secret knowledge was required. Native Hawaiians consider the owl a guardian, a protector. 

In western symbology, the owl is sacred as the ancient Greek goddess of learning.  Athena and is even depicted on some Greco-Roman currency as a symbol of status, intelligence and of course, wealth.  And Athena has similar qualities as the Roman Goddess Minerva.

As I read this, I remembered my own "Athena the Reader" lamp-sculpture which has been gracing my living room for years (photos).   So I concluded that my spirit guides must think that I need more wisdom and had sent an own spirit to assist me.

Then in later afternoon, when I tried to take a nap after a short night and an exhausting day, something hit me like a bolt of lightening.  I figured out who that woman was from my Constantine lifetime in the second dream.  I saw a fuzzy image of Betty or Beth as Minerva, I could not quite make out which.  So I jumped out of bed to do some research on Minerva.  What I saw felt like another lightening strike.  Almost every image of Minerva I looked at included her holding an owl!

Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom, was the equivalent of the Greek goddess Athena. She was associated with the owl, traditionally regarded as wise, and hence a metaphor for philosophy. Hegel wrote, in the preface to his Philosophy of Right: 'The owl of Minerva spreads its wings only with the falling of the dusk.' He meant that philosophy understands reality only after the event.

So I wrote to Beth:

You-Betty came to me last night so we can reunite in spirit and so you can be my guide-protector.  It gives me goose bumps... As I was dozing off... (I had) a vision of you as Minerva or Minervina. Or Betty.  The image was fuzzy but the emotion was strong.  It made me do a little more research on Minerva.  And then I got another bolt.  It went right down my spine when I saw you-Minerva depicted in so many busts and pictures holding an owl.  I feel the curtain is lifting now to reveal the mystery of Constantine and Minervina.  Our story.

So Betty-Beth-Janine is Minervina, my first wife as Constantine, I concluded. Indeed, not long afterward, the Teacher had confirmed my intuition.

Like Father, Like Son: Constantius and Helena, Constantine and Minervina...

So what happened between Minerva or Minervina and I, as Constantine?  It's another story of betrayal and abandonment.  Twice over.  There is very little known about Minervina's life in the world's archive.  But here's what my heart and soul told me about what happened.

My father, Constantius (left), was one of several Roman emperors in the late third century.  Before he had ascended to this position, however, he fell in love and married a Greek commoner Helena, my mother (who was later beatified as Saint Helena of Constantinople - right).  I was born in Nis (Nassius in those days), a city in today's southeastern Serbia.  Because Helena was a commoner, some say a barmaid, she was not a suitable match for a would-be Roman emperor.  So my father put ambition ahead of love and divorced Helena to marry Theodora, a stepdaughter of Maximian, a senior emperor at the time (below left and the chart). Constantius became the ruler of Gaul (see the pink countries on the chart below left), the western part of the empire, and was based mostly in Britain.

Now, let's pause for a moment and identify my late father in this current lifetime (right) as a possible reincarnation of Constantius, my father in Constantine's lifetime. I am also intuiting that Maximian (above left), father of Fausta, may have incarnated later as Henry VIII, again father of the same Fausta soul that was later Queen Mary I of England (left).

Even though Constantius and Theodora had other children, I was my father's firstborn and favorite son.  He showed his affection by abandoning me.  At least that's how I felt.  At the time, Constantius was involved in a power struggle with Diocletian, his senior among the emperors.  Diocletian was ruled the Eastern part of the empire from Nicomedia, today's Istanbul in Turkey. My father sent me there ostensibly to for my benefit to improve my education. But by placing me in the care of Diocletian, he was giving me up as a hostage so ensure peaceful coexistence with Diocletian.

Now, let's pause for a moment and go back to my current lifetime.  Let's connect what we have just learned with the 1st and 2nd dots - Tough Neighborhood and Prison Visit episodes.  I was raised by my father in this lifetime to be tough kid, a soldier.  And when I realized in the prison that he was not the God I thought he was, I was crushed.  That's also how I felt when Constantius abandoned me and sent my mother Helena and I to Nicomedia in 293AD.  At least I had my mother with me, both then and now.

During my years in Nicomedia, Diocletian saw to it that I was not only well trained and tested on various battlefields (Danube, Syria and Mesopotamia - 296-299), but that I also received great formal education.  When not fighting on the empire's eastern fringes, I was trained in literature and Greek philosophy.  I also attended the lectures of Lactantius, a Christian scholar of Latin in Nicomedia.

That's how I met Minervina who was also taken by philosophy and literature.  She was one of those rare women with whom I could talk about anything, including such "manly" subjects as art and philosophy, and even war.  And her beauty took my breath away.  We fell in love but I knew I could not marry her.  My father had me betrothed to Fausta, another Maximian's daughter, before he sent me to Nicomedia.  My mother Helena loved Minervina. She now had two reasons to be upset with my father.

Yet, when I returned to Nicomedia from my military campaign in Mesopotamia, I found out that I was a father.  Minervina had given birth to our son Crispus.  I was overjoyed.  And sad.  I faced the same choice my father did.  Do I choose love and marry Minervina, or do I go pursue power and ambition, and marry Fausta?  Like father, like son.  I chose the latter and broke Minervina's heart.

Now, let's pause here again for a moment and go back to my current lifetime.  Let's connect what we have just learned with the 4th dot - First Kiss, First Betrayal of Nevenka-the-Innocent.  That's when I also yielded to my father's wishes.  I abandoned my first love because she was not of a high enough social standing.  Shame on me!  Luckily, I got to see her again and beg and receive her forgiveness.  I did not get a second chance as Constantine.  That's why Betty had to die. The tears, pain and suffering that followed for years thereafter, was the payment of my karmic debt. And now Minervina-Betty is back in my life as Beth, supporting me on this Trail of Tears united in spirit once again, I feel freed from the guilt of betrayal and abandonment.

But there is one more thing... Take a look at the picture on the left.  Could Nevenka-the-Innocent (middle right) also be of the same soul?  It would not surprise me.  For, she had also loved me and forgiven me with ease and grace that Betty-Beth's spirit showed in the last few days.

I feel so small and so lucky to have have such women on my journey. I treated them badly. And for that, I am deeply sorry.  But my pain and suffering will not be in vain if it serves to other men (and women) never to put power and ambition ahead of love.  The former are fleeting rewards.  The latter is ETERNAL.  [tears]

Constantine and Crispus

When I left Nicomedia to join my father in Britain, I took my young son Crispus with me.  I loved him dearly and wanted to somehow make up for the pain I had caused his mother by raising him to be a great emperor one day.  Except for the time I sent him to be educated by Lactantius, a Christian teacher whom I knew and greatly admired, Crispus was at my side most of the time.  He served as Caesar in the Eastern Empire from 317 to 324AD, frequently making Sirmium as his case. Crispus was young, energetic and extremely popular with the troops due to his strategic abilities and the victories to which he had led the Roman legions.

Crispus was leader in victorious military operations against the Franks and the Alamanni in 318, 320 and 323. Thus he secured the continued Roman presence in the areas of Gaul and Germania. Crispus joined his father in visiting Rome during 322, and received the warmest and most enthusiastic welcome by the crowds. The soldiers adored him thanks to his strategic abilities and the victories to which he had led the Roman legions.  I was beaming with pride looking at my son.

Crispus spent the following years assisting me in the war against Licinius, my brother-in-law who was married to my favorite sister Constantia. In 324, I appointed Crispus as the commander of our fleet which left the port of Piraeus to confront the rival fleet of Licinius. The subsequent Battle of Hellespont was fought in at the straits of Bosporus. The 200 ships under the command of Crispus managed to utterly beat the enemy forces which were at least double in number. Thus Crispus achieved his most important and difficult victory which further established his reputation as a brilliant soldier and general.

Following his navy triumph, Crispus and I divided the command of the army loyal to me. Crispus led the legions assigned to him in another victorious battle outside Chrysopolis against the armies of Licinius. The two victories were his contribution to our final triumph Licinius. They left me as the only Augustus in the Empire. I honored my son for his support and success by depicting his face in imperial coins, statues, mosaics, cameos, etc.

Constantine and Fausta

Fausta (right) and I were married in Trier in 307AD.  By then, my father had died and I was running the Western Roman Empire out of Trier, near today's German-Luxembourg border.  Fausta knew that I married her because she was the daughter of the older emperor that I also aspired to be one day.  She did not mind.  She was an aristocrat in every sense of the meaning of that word back in Roman times.  She knew we all had roles to play and she played hers to perfection.  And she was a good wife to me.  She bore me three sons and two daughters.

Fausta proved her loyalty to me in 310AD when she tipped me off about her father's plot to have me assassinated in my bed at night.  I had put a eunuch in bed in my place and caught my father-in-law Maximian red-handed in the act.  I offered him what I thought was an honorable way out.  He took it and hanged himself.  Afterward, my army and I marched from Trier to Rome, where I defeated Maximian's son Maxentius, my brother-in-law, in the Battle of Milvian Bridge, depicted in "Constantine, Part II."

For her loyalty and support, I rewarded her with the title of Augusta (an empress), the first woman to ever hold such an imperial position.  I also had coins struck in her name, such as these shown on the left. 

What I did not realize, however, is that she had one major weakness - jealousy.  Not of other women.  She couldn't have cared less how many concubines I had as long as she was being treated as an empress. She was jealous of Minervina's son, my firstborn and favorite Crispus who was by then already Caesar. She feared that Crispus' popularity and success will prevent her own sons from ascending to the throne. 

I was blissfully unaware of her feelings until one day in May 326, while we were all in Pula, Istria, Fausta told me something that made my hair stand up. She said that the young Caesar, my beloved son Crispus, was in love with her and had tried to rape her.  She said she rejected him but felt she needed to warn me about his disloyalty, just as she did when her father tried to kill me 16 years earlier.  I found the her claim shocking but had no reason do doubt her loyalty.  So I ordered Crispus to stand trial for treason.

The court found him guilty and sentenced him to death.  He was executed in Pula around June 17, 326.  It was a tragic and abrupt end to a glorious career and a young life.  It broke my heart.  But I could not tolerate betrayal, especially not by my own flesh and blood.

When my aged mother Helena learned of the death of her favorite grandson, she was dismayed and outraged.  My mother was but a simple Greek woman, but she was not to be trifled with when it came to her family.  She came to our court and found enough evidence to show me that it was Fausta who was disloyal.  She was actually plotting against Crispus behind my back.  My wife had apparently made amorous advances toward Crispus who left her horrified and disgusted.  Not only because he loved me and was always to proud to serve me, but he was already married to a lovely woman also called Helena.  They had a baby boy three years earlier.  I was very pleased to have my first grandson just as I had turned 50.

If there was ever anyone in my life whom I could trust completely and with my life, it was my mother. So when she told me all that, I saw red before my eyes.  So I ordered Fausta killed, along with all the maidens and other aides who had assisted her in this devious plot.  My order was carried out in August 326, two months after Crispus died.  Modern day historians aren't sure of the date, but I think it was on August 13.

Now, let's pause here again for a moment and go back to the 5th dot - Bora: Brother-Father-Son. Intuition tells me that Bora was Crispus. He was there for me and I for him right up until the very end. The only thing that managed to break such a strong bond was the treachery of another woman.  His wife this time around, as opposed to mine as Constantine.  Also, he was the one who took with him to his grave the terrible burden of all those crimes against humanity in which he participated in post-war years.  Guess he unburdened himself by confessing to me.  As for me, I was lucky to be able to say goodbye to him before he passed. But I never had a chance to say to my son Crispus how sorry I was.  Whether Bora was Crispus or not, I say this onto the Crispus soul:

"My dear son, my pride and joy, apple of my eye, fruit of my first great love, if I could, I would reverse our roles and change places with you in a heartbeat. Let the executioner's sword fall on the neck of a stupid father for acting so hastily and impulsively.  Worse, I dishonored you by expunging any record of your life from history.  By publishing this story, I wish to shine the spotlight to your short but rich life.  My vanity and quick temper ended it prematurely.  My pride prevented me from apologizing later.  So let the record stand now and forever:

I, Constantine, admit to being wrong in my judgment of you.  You, Crispus, was innocent of the charges brought against you.  I pray that the Creator and my spirit guides show me how I can be of service to you now or in the future. Your deeply repentant father, Constantine."

And now, let me turn to my wife Fausta, who falsely accused Crispus of adultery with her.  There she is in my current lifetime (left and right in the pictures below). 

[images removed by author to protect privacy of current incarnations]   

Fausta's bust is in the middle shot of the left picture. Elizabeth (left) and Eve (right) are her current incarnations. And who is that lady in the middle? She is my late mother in this lifetime who may have been Theodora, Elizabeth-Eve's mother in the Constantine lifetime.  I have always felt that Elizabeth resembled my mother very much, but have only recently intuited that my mother may have been Theodora.

Surprised?  I was.  When the Teacher recently revealed that Elizabeth-Eve soul split are the current reincarnations of Fausta, I had a hard time believing it.  Elizabeth epitomizes pure love.  And from what I have seen so far, Eve also has a golden heart.  But then, who am I to wonder, the Teacher reminded me recently. 

"Would your neighbors and friends who know you as a loving shaman ever believe that you were once Constantine?" he asked. "No," I replied.

Indeed.  Point made.  Once the karmic debt has been paid and the negative energy discharged what remains is pure love.  That's how we all started from that first spark of God. That's how we should all strive to become again, after we cleanse ourselves of the patina accumulated over the millennia of selfish pursuits through war and violence. 

I feel fortunate to share my life with "Fausta " again.  This time, it is a mutually loving and supporting relationship. We have both learned from our past mistakes.  We both know now that ambition and power are poor substitutes for love and compassion.  Furthermore, look at what Elizabeth made the day before while I was trying to figure out the meaning of the owl in my dream - three owls (left).  She was unaware at the time of what they meant in my life.  But her Higher Self knew.  She Fausta's spirit clearly joined with Minervina's to help me write this story and purge the karma from all of our lives.

From "The history of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire," Volume 1

By Edward Gibbon

HAIKU, Maui, Sep 21 - An excerpt... Click on Page 367 and read through 368 to see how Crispus and Fausta died and for what reason they had been put to death. 

Re. Crispus death 

[...]  They pretend that as soon as the afflicted father discovered falsehood of the accusation by which his credulity had been so fatally misled he published to the world his repentance and remorse that he mourned forty days during which he abstained from the use of the bath and all the comforts of life, and that for the lasting instruction of posterity he erected golden statue of Crispus with this memorable inscription TO MY SON I UNJUSTLY CONDEMNED.  A tale so moral and so interesting would [...]

Re. Fausta's death

[...] of Constantine the ancient tragedy of Hippolitus and of Phaedra. Like the daughter of Minos the daughter of Maximian accused her son in law of an incestuous attempt on the chastity of his father's wife and easily obtained from the jealousy of the emperor a sentence of death against a young prince whom she considered with reason as the most formidable rival of her own children. But Helena the aged mother of Constantine lamented and revenged the untimely fate of her grandson Crispus. Nor was it long before a real or pretended discovery was made that Fausta herself entertained a criminal connexion with a slave belonging to the Imperial stables. Her condemnation and punishment were the instant consequences of the charge and the adulteress was suffocated by the steam of a bath which for that purpose had been heated to an extraordinary degree. By some it will perhaps be thought of conjugal union of and the honour of [...]

---

MY INTUITION:  Just had an intuitive hit that Anja, Bora's wife, may be also a Fausta split?  She tried hard to split us up by falsely accusing him of things he hasn't done, and did succeed in the end, thanks to his weakness for her.  If that were the case, that would explain my dreams of Elizabeth's infidelity.  They were not warnings about Elizabeth. They were warnings about Fausta in light of my upcoming trip.  Ditto re. my this morning's dream about being killed by Bora and another brother.

Eve's Intuition as Fausta

HAIKU, Maui, Aug 10 - One of the marvelous things about the past life regression is that there can be two versions of the same story.  Here's, for example, what Eve shares with me this morning about her intuition as Fausta:

What came to me was a women who was younger than Constantine and married for purposes of the Empire, but without love. She did her duty as best she could. What came to me was that she did indeed love Crispus, and their love affair was found out, and that was why even after Fausta's death the expunging of Crispus from the record was never reversed by his father (doing my own research there were many instances of damnnatio memoriae before and after which were later rescinded and the records and titles reinstated posthumously.)

Anyway, that was what came to me in meditation, and during research held out. Who knows what to do when different people get different hits? I imagine that in the long run it doesn't matter anyway, as long as we understand that we are all one, what you do I do and what I do you do and we all reset, delete, and set sail with intent.

I am prepared to defer to Fausta's soul intuition about Fausta. But I also agree with Eve, does it really matter?  What matters in the end is that we delete it all, lock stock and barrel.  It's like toppling and leveling a temple.  Does it matter what relics it had once held inside?  They all get buried into the ground.

Eve also pointed out something else that I knew but did not connect. It has to do with my father's imprisonment at a Hapsburg prison:

What also came to me when you wrote about your father's time in the prison - as Philip II you were of the Hapsbug lineage.

All of us are doing this deletion together. And openly. We may undertake it in different ways, but I am you and you are me and we are all of us. It is not just you that is responsible for the violence of the world, but all of us. It is not just me that is responsible for religious intolerance, but all of us. You are a loving and caring and responsible being, as is Elizabeth, and I am very blessed to have you in this life with me as Eve.


Summary of 17 Century-long Shapeshifting Journey from Sword to Lotus Flower

I, as Constantine, had lofty ambitions.  I pursued them ruthlessly.  Hundreds of thousands of people paid for them with their lives.  In just one battle at Chrysopolis against Licinius, my rival for the throne, some 40,000 soldiers lost their lives (left is the standard including the Greek XP-symbol for Christ, under which my troops fight).  Crispus and I "won."  That battle made me the sole ruler of the world's largest empire in recorded history up until then. But what kind of a "victory" is it when it is forged in a river of blood.  How many more "great" battles like that had I "won" with similar or greater toll in human lives? Ten? Twenty?  Fifty?  I always won.  Other people always died. 

Just to put things in perspective, back then, the world population was about 300 million people.  The Roman Empire had about 45 million people.  If I were to fight and "win" 10 such "great" battles today, the cost would be 800,000 lives.  That's monstrous.  Nothing can excuse such madness, especially not wielding a sword in a mistaken belief of serving God.  It is an insult to God, I know see.

It gets worse. Violence begets violence.  Check out this editorial "Collateral Damage" Hits Home I wrote as Bob Djurdjevic, former war correspondent, on Sep 11, 2001.  It was being written while the Towers were still standing in New York City.  I feel that I, as Constantine, also share the responsibility for that.  I, as Constantine, also feel responsible for the Nazi pogroms against the Jews, Serbs, Gypsies, Russians, Poles, etc.  I, as Constantine, also feel responsible for the Inquisition and Conquistadors.  [sobbing and crying uncontrollably... have to take a break]. My incarnation King Phillip II merely played off the same sheet of music.  I, as Constantine, also feel responsible for the Crusades.  And for any other example of intolerance that followed my reign.

Why? Because I, as Constantine, ended the persecution of Christians only to persecute everyone else who was not.  [crying] I made the sword look to others like a righteous version of the cross, not the cross I was shown at Milvian Bridge.  Great leaders lead by example.  I inspired other to follow me.  They also used the sword thinking it was the cross.  Because of my power as the ruler of the biggest empire in the world, all other kings and emperors who followed me and aspired to gain such power copied my example. [crying uncontrollably... have to take a break...  hard to breathe... okay, back again after a 5-min break].

During the break, I felt the Teacher's presence in my heart.  And I told him how sorry I was not to have followed his example when I was Constantine or Phillip.  "I was a poor student," I said. "But I have learned.  I know you now.  Because my heart feels you."

[I am being told to prepare another offering of Frankincense, Myrrh and Palo Santo (from Peru) at my shaman's altar.  When I publish this story, I will light the fire to start the smoke transmission of its message to the Creator and to all my spirit guides who have helped me write it].

During the break, parts of the following verse by John Donne came to me, first in the form of "For Whom the Bell Tolls" by Ernest Hemingway.  Which Donne answers... "it tolls for thee."

No man is an island,  entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were;  any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

I now re-invoke again here the New Constantine Creed which I wrote and sanctified by fire ceremony at the end of my Constantine: First Christian to Rule with Sword (July 31)  story.  And I denounce and renounce the use of violence in all of my lifetimes, past or future.  I also denounce any scholar, spiritual leader, king or a politician who refers to me as Constantine with the epithet "The Great."  I will ask Wikipedia to remove it from their web site. *Done (see below)

Finally, there is but one more thing I feel I need to do before I and the world can fully dispense with the likes of Constantine and my other warrior lifetimes.  I must travel to Trier, Pula and Constantinople to cleanse my warrior energies from those places where I had accumulated so much karma.  I must plant a lotus flower on my grave in Constantinople and pray that it may replace the sword that's buried below.  As Constantine's sword shapeshifts into a pink lotus flower, it will portend a shift in human consciousness from violence to love. That should put an end to 17 centuries of glorifying people who kill in the name of God.

Letter to Wikipedia Editors

NOTE: Here's a link the letter to the editor of Wikipedia which I posted this afternoon (click here to see original):

Your Constantine "The Great" page

Dear Editor

I am writing about your Constantine the Great web page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constantine_the_Great

My name is Bob Djurdjevic. I am the current reincarnation of Constantine. And I respectfully request that you strike any reference to him as "the Great" from your web site. Thank you.

To understand my reasons for this admittedly unusual request, I invite you to check out following articles posted at my altzar.org web site:

Constantine's Trail of Tears (Aug 9);

Constantine: First Christian to Rule with Sword (July 31);

Constantine and I (June 28-July 19)

You can reply to this message by email to bobdj@altzar.org or by phone at the number shown below. Thank you.

Bob Djurdjevic Haiku, Maui Mobile: 602-703-2111

Epilogue to Constantine Part III

HAIKU, Maui, Aug 9 - I performed the fire and water cleansing ceremony at exactly noon today. 

  • I first played three times the F- and D-notes of my Tibetan bowls, the sound of my 3rd and 7th ray soul.

  • I then rang my shaman's bell to draw the spirits' attention to this ceremony.

  • I next called on all of my known 30+ spirit guides by name to assemble and participate in this sacred act of spiritual cleansing.

  • I then went through shamanic rituals using Frankincense, Myrrh and Palo Santo smoke to help carry the message.

  • I was told to blow the Holy Water on the fire/smoke so that all elements are present.  I did that.

  • When I started reading the above Summary out loud to the spirits, I was told I had to blow Holy Water with my breath on to it.  I did that.

  • [As I was reading it, a river of tears was running down my cheeks.  They are still flowing as I write this.  These are tears of joy.  I recognized from past experiences that I was connected directly to the Divine where my message was being heard and received. And I felt my guides smiling appreciatively.]

  • With my eyes closed, I also felt my spirit guides beaming the pink Christed light through my crown chakra into my body, thus performing the physical act of cleansing during the message.

  • I was also told to record the same message on a video and post it for all to see. 

  • When I was finished reading the message, I sent it to the Creator and the spirits by burning it in the F-note Tibetan bowl, the sound of my 3rd ray soul.

I then came back to my office to write this Epilogue.  The urn with the Frankincense, Myrrh and Palo Santo is still burning here, spreading the heavenly scent around.  I am now inhaling it and blowing it to all of you.

I also need your help. Can you identify this tune? If so, please email it to me.  Thanks.

 

And the answer is...

In the Hall of the Mountain King from "Peer Gynt" by Edward Grieg

What is particularly interesting is that I don't recall ever playing any of Grieg's pieces before today.  So my guides evidently wanted me to associate this music with the completion and deletion of my Constantine life.  It was their message to me.  Here's what Wikipedia says about it::

The piece is played as the eponymous Peer Gynt, in a dream-like fantasy, enters "the royal hall of the Old Man of the DovrŽ (the Mountain King)." The scene's introduction continues: "There is a great crowd of troll courtiers, gnomes and goblins. The Old Man sits on his throne, with crown and sceptre, surrounded by his children and relatives. Peer Gynt stands before him. There is a tremendous uproar in the hall." The lines sung are the first lines in the scene.

When I did my fire and water cleansing ceremony, that is exactly how I felt... like Peer Gynt addressing God and my spirit guides around him.  What a marvelous way to communicate that message visually and through music.  Thank you, thank you...

* * *

Constantine's Message 2011: A Video

HAIKU, Maui, Aug 9 - Here's now the video that my guides wanted me to make...

 

Constantine's Message 2011 (by Bob Altzar Djurdjevic, Aug 9, 2011)

 

Epitaph

HAIKU, Maui, Aug 10 - When I woke up, I was given this epitaph for my grave marker:

THE SHAMAN WHO DEFEATED THE UNDEFEATED AND TURNED "CONSTANTINE THE GREAT" INTO A FLOWER

Cute, huh? :-) Power of shamanic shapeshifting.  Interesting, just now... this image from my war correspondent years flashed before me (right).

Constantine Deletion Rainbow Blessing

HAIKU, Maui, Aug 10 - After two days of rain and showers, today was a hot and sunny day around here.  When I went down to the gulch to do my evening rounds and the ceremony at my shaman's Huaca-Ahu, the sky overhead was clear before I closed my eyes and got into it.  I first prayed for a successful conclusion of Beth and Tracy's business sale and some other private prayer requests, and then I thanked the spirits again for all they have done to help me on the Constantine Trail of Tears. 

Even before was finished, I felt some light misting on my skin.  I knew instantly what it was... a divine response that my message was being heard.  This happens so often when I do ceremony down there that it is more of a rule than an exception.  

What was different this time around, however, was that when I opened my eyes and looked up, the sky above was still blue and clear.  Yet there was unmistakable misting everywhere.  I did not have my camera with me to record it like the last time this happened (see "Talking Story" with Spirits, July 28).  So I just smiled and thanked the Creator and my spirit guides for acknowledging my prayers.

When I lowered my eyes and looked toward the east, I saw a beautiful rainbow.  Then I realized that this was more than just the "usual" non-verbal sign from the spirits.  Because the sky overhead was STILL CLEAR!  It was a Divine acknowledging what I did yesterday and today with the Constantine clearing and giving me their "rainbow up" sign of approval. I thanked them all profusely and sincerely.  When I continued my walk, the rainbow was still there.  I regretted not having my camera with me.  

"Maybe it's better that way," I reasoned.  "Maybe they wanted this rainbow to remain 'just between us'.  Or maybe they'll keep it up till I get back up to the house?"  I sent them an intention to that effect. 

As I climbed the hill on the opposite side of the gulch, the rainbow kept getting bigger and bigger. Eventually it reached such a gigantic proportion both in terms of its height and the width that had I had the camera, I would have needed multiple frames to fit it in.  I have seen many rainbows around here, but never one as large as that.  So I just stood there in awe, feeling and admiring the beauty of Divine communications.  All the while, the sky overhead was still clear, yet the misting was getting more intense.

When I eventually made it back up the hill to the house, at least 20 minutes must have elapsed since my first glimpse of the rainbow.  I smiled and said to the sky, "so you did keep it for me.  Thank you. Gues you do want me to take a picture and share it?"

I went to the house and got the camera.  As I walked out, they cleared the clouds in the west and the sunlight became more intense, giving the rainbow a brighter glow.  I snapped four pictures and combined two of each into these panorama shots of the "Constantine deletion rainbow."


Then I realized why they kept the rainbow up so long till I took a picture of it.  They wanted me to share it with you.  It is YOUR RAINBOW, too.  All of you have been as much a part of that deletion as I, with your own deletion work, and so many supportive messages. 

So here it is... YOUR GIFT FROM THE HEAVENS!  Enjoy.

* * *

New Constantine Creed

As I offer today my apologies and amends to the victims of my ambition as Constantine and my rule of the sword, I might as well start with one to myself:

"To you, Bob Djurdjevic - ALTZAR - an Inca-trained and thrice-ordained shaman by the mountain spirits themselves, I bow and apologize for having strayed from your soul intentions.  I should have known better.  Man's power comes from God not man."

"And to you, the multitudes of others whom I abused, injured or killed mistakenly as the Roman Emperor, I also bow and ask forgiveness.  I did not deserve the epithet Constantine The Great.' I acted stupidly.  I thought that such acts would be pleasing to God and Jesus Christ."

Today, I know better.  So I reserve my last apology to the one whom I betrayed the most... the one who has shared himself with me. 

"Dear Creator, Jeshua-Yeshua-Jesus of Nazarene, and all of my other wonderful spirit guides and teachers, I am sorry I failed you as the Roman Emperor Constantine.  You gave me the power to change the world for the better.  I used it for self-glorifying purposes."

(I have had to take a break from typing at this point.  I am sobbing and crying loudly and need time to calm down and blow my nose.  Continuing...)

"I now know why I needed to suffer karmic losses in this lifetime.  I was paying old debts.  Thank you for giving me a chance to try to do better in this lifetime by serving as a shaman and helping uplift other souls as an artist. I have been a poor student, a slow learner. Seventeen centuries is a long time for a human.  But I "get you" now, Father. Thank you for not giving up on me."

---
Epilogue to Constantine Part II

PS: On this day, Sunday, July 31, 2011 - exactly 620,457 days - or 1698 years, 9 months, 3 days from the day I became a Christian in Rome by the sign of the spirit at the Milvian Bridge - I also performed a shamanic ceremony to send by my breath through fire the New Constantine Creed messages to the Creator and to my spirit guides.  For those of you who are interested in ceremonial matters, here's what happened...

  • As I usually do for indoor ceremonies, I prepared an offering of Frankincense, Myrrh and Palo Santo (from Peru) at my shaman's altar.  I lit the fire to start the smoke transmission.

  • As I inhaled the beautiful cleansing aroma, I than called the Creator's and the spirits' attention by ringing the two Tibetan bowls which transmit the sounds of my soul rays - the F-note for the 3rd ray, and the D-note for the 7th.  I rang each of them three times individually, and three times together in a harmonic convergence (see the video at the end of this story).

  • Then I identified myself to the spirits, holding the shaman's Mesa to my heart.  Mesa is a shaman's "celestial PDA."  It consists of the kullas (stones) which were given to the shaman by the mountain sprits at ordination, and have been reinitiated and recharged periodically by crystals, water, fire and sunlight - most importantly, by the shaman's breath and heart:

I am Altzar, the Rainbow Giver

    from the Dogon star

I am a child of the Universe

I am a ray of the original Sun

I am the forest and the land

I am the ocean and the sand

I am Pele's lava and her hearth

I am the wind and the breath

I am the Shepherd of the Earth

I am Wholeness

I am Love

... and I love you.

  • After that, I explained why this is a special ceremony and proceeded to conduct it.  Again, tears flowed liberally.

  • At one point, I blew the holy water (FL water) spray over the fireplace and the holy smoke, uniting all four elements.

  • At the end, I read the New Constantine Creed as outlined above, and transmitted it to the spirit world by fire in the F-Note bowl (right shot) to the sound of my primary soul ray - the 3rd.

And now, here are the sounds of the Song of My Life that I feel my Teacher has given me via a divine download in recognition of the progress I had been making clearing the karma from my Constantine lifetime.  If you click on the link below, you can also read about the shapeshifting that occurred during that process in which my imperial sword morphed into a beautiful pink lotus flower.

Song of My Soul [by Altzar, Aug 7, 2011]

 

THE END.

Love  Light

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