Karma and Consequences
Tale of a Past Life
I have not forgotten the promise to Désirée, but that post is not quite finished. How are these requests made? Paid subscribers can post comments and questions. It would be overwhelming for me if there were not a threshold somewhere, but today’s post sneaked ahead of the queue because of the tensions in the world, my pacifism, and many requests to tell more stories from my own life.
After Vietnam, I accepted a new assignment with the State Department and arrived in India at the very end of 1968 after spending Christmas in Afghanistan. The official job title was “Special Assistant to the Ambassador for Low-End Poverty” and the first task was to conduct the largest research project ever having been done (at that time) in India. The goal was to determine if the so-called “Food for Peace” program made any difference in the areas receiving school lunches. I was sent to Ankara for special training in biostatics and then some beta studies were done in the Punjab. Next, we went to Hyderabad where we enlisted about 50 graduate students to do the actual field work. My personal team did spot checking by surprise visits to villages and analysis of the data collected. Suffice it to say that conditions were a little beyond rustic and proper hygiene was not easy to maintain.
The Embassy doctor was about what you expect of someone recruited by a federal agency, and the tests run to determine the cause of my endless fevers never revealed anything because of shortcuts taken in the laboratories. Long story short, I was medically evacuated to Honolulu where I overheard five doctors confirming that my situation was terminal.
Old East-West Center friends visited me in the hospital and agreed that the doctors would wind up killing me so they came back with a costume that allowed me to escape unnoticed and go home to my mother in Kona. Seven weeks later, one of the Honolulu doctors was in the lab, and the technician asked if he had seen my reports. All of a sudden, he realized they had not even noticed my absence. The treatment was to be the same as for tuberculosis but accelerated so that a year of drugs was packed into a few weeks.
I went to the Kona Hospital for the first injection and immediately became very dizzy. It was difficult to control the car on the way home. All I could think about was trying to stay lucid and then flop on the couch. Then, I remembered my mother had said, “Don’t forget to take birds in before the sun gets too strong for them.” Somehow, I managed to stand up and pick up the cage, but I fell backwards against a concrete step and could not get on my feet after that.
Those were the days of wired phones, so I crawled to the living room and pulled the cord to get the phone to fall onto the floor. I called the family doctor. He said he would come after he finished with a heart attack patient. Hours went by. I phoned him again. He said he forgot and would come by soon. Seems he forgot again, and I had to phone again. He eventually showed up, opened his black bag, pulled out a syringe and said, “This will make you laugh.” I very much doubted anything would make me laugh at that time.
Then, miraculously, he lifted me off the floor and put me on my mother’s bed as it was the closest. He did no examinations. Fortunately, my mother’s plans changed, and she came home a bit earlier than expected, was confused about why I was in her bed, and when I told her the story, she insisted on x-rays immediately.
The radiologist came out with a film, then asked, “When you were in Vietnam, you were not hit in the back with a bullet, were you?” I said I hadn’t been shot. She was quite insistent and asked, “You’d remember, wouldn’t you?” I said that I would, of course, have remembered, but there was no such event. Then, she showed me the x-ray. There was a hole right through a vertebra. I said, “You must have mixed up the film. This must be someone else’s x-ray.” She said she had only taken one picture that day and that this was definitely my x-ray. I assumed there had, in fact, been a mix up and put the idea aside.
Given what happened, I would have suspected a fracture of some type but definitely not a hole. Meanwhile, being back at the Kona Hospital, I found out that, unbeknownst to me, there had been an anesthetic in the previous injection and that the instructions were to administer it you know where, certainly not the arm. The nurse had not read the instructions. Now, I was back in the land of incompetence where the last thing one could possibly imagine happening would be rest and recovery. I asked when I could be discharged. I was told, “When you can walk.”
Here is where genes can be useful. Since childhood, I was constantly told that “Vikings don’t limp unless one leg is shorter than the other. Vikings die with their boots on.” I figured I was going to walk out. Caught in the hallway, I was asked what I was doing. I said, “I am walking out.” They told me I couldn’t leave, but I reminded them that they said I could leave if I could walk.
Sorry about this long account. Now the rest ties into the post on Black Crystals that has had such a lot of views.
It must be obvious that the would-be exorcist and I were not often on the same page. She felt I was fragile and needed to toughen up. I like being sensitive. I spent many lifetimes cultivating the attributes that I value. She told me to see a good psychic and find out about my most recent incarnations. I don’t know about now, but in Santa Fe in the 1980s, one could easily find a “good psychic” as well as many gifted healers.
I made an appointment and just as I was about to ask the question I had been commanded to ask, I saw the whole scene with my own inner vision. I could see myself, a blonde then as in this incarnation, maybe mid-thirties, probably Austrian, not Scandinavian. I heard noise at the door. It was kicked down, and two Nazi soldiers broke in with guns drawn. I was shot in the back while trying to go up the stairway.
I had been working in the Underground, rescuing Jewish children, and my last word was “Friedrich”. He was about three at the time. Instead of asking the question I had planned, I asked the psychic why a child would incarnate under such horrific circumstances. The response was so that I could experience the love necessary to undertake the risks I was taking to save the children.
At that time in my Ingrid incarnation, I had not yet developed the skills I eventually came to unfold so I was “studying” reincarnation but very seldom facilitating it. Yes, I had learned many techniques but was not entirely satisfied with any of them. Obviously, this changed during the 21 years in New Mexico, definitely one of my favorite places on Earth.
There are many methods, but what is elicited suggests that the injuries at the level of the subconscious do not automatically heal. There are terms used for this part of our psychological make-up. The Hawaiian word is unihipili. Many people today refer to this as the inner child. As an astrologer, I call this our lunar consciousness, but it is a part of our being that can only be transformed when brought to a conscious level so that there is interaction between the subconscious self and conscious self. In the third dimension, we are only conscious on one level at a time so a facilitator is generally necessary if the subconscious is to become conscious for a moment in time. The facilitator can be a healer, meaning it is not always necessary for the patient to be conscious but either the patient or healer must be conscious . . . or both can be. Only then can the subconscious be gradually transformed, like a file on the computer that is edited from time to time until the flow is perfect and the meaning is understood.
What was evident to me is that every injury persists until it is resolved. Stated a little differently, the incarnating individual will continuously sustain injuries to the weakest areas until really deep healing has occurred.
My situation was becoming increasing challenging. I was on the lecture circuit, often with heavy boxes of books. One astrologer said that I must have packed the complete works of Robert Hand in my luggage, but the reality was these were my own writings.
My back hurt, and often I could not sleep because the beds in the hotels and homes where I stayed were aggravating the pain. Sometimes, I would lie on the floor for days on end writhing in pain. Dr. Shrikrishna Kashyap offered to help. He would give me five treatments, but if they did not work, I would have to have spinal fusion. Well, I had worked with a chiropractor in Kona, Dr. Nathalie Tucker, and had seen that the initial results were impressive, but the long-term left a lot to be desired.
I asked Shyam, the nickname by which most people knew him, what his plan was. He said he would train the nadi to interact with the nerves and teach the body the fill the hole in the spine. The nadi are pathways in the aura, what you see in Kirlian photographs, that have correspondences in the nervous system. I was lying face down on a chiropractic table, fully clothed. He would work his magic. I had complete faith in him and his approach. I think this is important because the subconscious must be able to accept the approach to healing. This was the second great teaching of Morrnah Simeona: whatever does not feel good to the unihipili will be rejected.
It was also something I learned very early as a budding medical astrologer: there must be trust and rapport between the therapist and client or doctor and patient. If not, harm could occur. I have stories to tell about this also.
To wrap up this saga, I would like to underscore that more than a decade elapsed between the x-ray in Kona and view of my demise in my past life. A few more years passed before the hole was filled. Now, four more decades have passed, and I believe that Shyam’s treatment was entirely successful. For this, I will be eternally grateful. From my perspective, he did not treat me for one injury but rather cleared the issue for future incarnations as well. So, I will always be in his debt and always honor him and the gifts he developed and shared.
The reason for keeping Désirée waiting is that tensions are so high now . . . and passions are also aroused. We all have certain emotions that are more likely to be expressed than other emotions. We can each become more conscious of these feelings. Are we more susceptible to fear or anger or grief or resistance? Do we want peace or revenge? There is an opportunity on a global level to be discerning and to understand that what we do has repercussions until equal and opposite balance the karma. Can I love a Nazi? I cannot love the politics, but I can understand that the leaders are delusional and create cadre who will follow orders . . . even when the orders violate the conscience and faith of soldiers. This will only end when people are clear about the reason we have doctrines that teach us right from wrong. We have a choice about whether to obey the state or a higher power. We have a choice about whether to love or to hate, whether to heal or to injure, whether to unite or alienate.
Please choose wisely and suggest the same to others.
Copyright by Dr. Ingrid Naiman 2023 || All Rights Reserved
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Image Credit:
3D Kirlian Illustration of Aura: Michael Piepgras | Dreamstime.com
This is a little reminder that I imported alpaca blankets from Ecuador. They are gorgeous, warm, and make lovely gifts, throws, and bedding. At the moment, I have almost every color you can imagine. They fit a queen size bed but can be used in meditation, as a throw when on a sofa, or in the car when it’s really cold.
Hi, Ingrid - Where can I find more information about the blankets you imported? Thank you for sharing this article.