Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 9: “Motivation”

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Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 9: “Motivation”

Editor’s Note:  I haven’t finished the part of this saga regarding the interlude that my soul spent in the healing houses of the planet, Arcturus… so here are further thoughts about and experiences from the life of Commander Delos, a Sirian who lived and died in the ancient galactic wars, also known as the great Star Wars…

Apparently, I’m not ready to abandon Delos to his fate just yet.  There are more depths to his character and motivations that require me to dig deep.  As with Delos, I am not afraid to face the darkness within, but seek to drag it into the light of introspection.  Perhaps my willingness to do so will aid others who shared in my experiences or similar ones during what has been referred to as the Orion wars or better known as the great Star Wars.  There is much healing to be done for many who are not yet aware of that need.  They will be…soon.

A sense of the richness of the Sirian culture is beginning to percolate to the surface of my consciousness.  I think Delos pushed a lot of that aside in his determination to focus on the matters at hand, keeping the people safe.  Towards the end, he became very simple in the manner of his dress, which his son, Aman the priest, interpreted as being an insult against his mother who was one of the wealthiest women in the great city of Sirust.  On the other hand, Delos’ mate, Anya, emulated his practices and ignored the protestations of her son by adopting the custom of wearing simple, well-made gauzy sheer white and gold sarees for her main form of dress.

What must be clear to some of my readers was the fact that Delos and his son were often at odds.  He did not understand his father’s motivations in going to war.

It’s little wonder that I feel a little distant from some of my reincarnated family members even now. I’m still working to release my prejudices and judgment against this young man who I felt did not understand my passion for war, for defending our worlds — it wasn’t that I loved war, I was just good at it, strategy, tactics, outguessing the enemy, tuning into the frequencies, knowing when and where to strike — these were all skills and talents…gifts if you will, that I brought into that incarnation. I was doing what I could do where and when I was needed. I didn’t fear death — that was obvious especially in my last moments. Delos was certainly a complex, talented man used to command. I know this is not my path today but he is still within me.

In bringing up these painful memories and visions, I am doing what I can to release, transmute, and transform these energies so I might move on.  I am not seeking to let go of what Delos was, but am intent in integrating that masculine part of my Being within.  I am striving to remember and resolve the pain, trauma, and misunderstandings that go along with fighting for freedom and the Light, often without the approval or understanding of those who know and love you.

I will tell you from a place of deep experience, it is not wise to stuff these feelings down like I was forced to due to the imperative need of the day…that is why I am only now able to address and release this deep, deep trauma.  There was simply no time to heal the wounds; I was forced by circumstance to move on, to the next battle, the next alarm, the next thing that had to be done to prepare the fleet.  I was the Commander, in charge, and so everything in my life including my long-suffering but patient mate, Anya, was relegated to the sidelines.  Any warrior will understand this driving need to protect and serve those he loves in the best way s/he knows, but unfortunately for the health of our relationship, my son was not a warrior and so rebelled against what he thought was wrong, ungodly behavior.  I am not making excuses for my actions, just stating what I see as the facts of our collective circumstances during those trying and painful days of the Great Star Wars…

It is my understanding now, in retrospect, that my son, Aman, was terrified of war, of death, and the destruction that it wrought.  I sensed this fear in those days when he angrily refused to attend the academy to which I wanted to send him to prepare him for entering into the space force.  Instead, he threw into my startled face his desire to become a priest and devote his life to praying, fasting, and asking forgiveness for his killer of a father.  I was stunned at his outburst but knew well enough what was behind it, so I let him pursue his desires.  He became a priest, a good one… and one day he too would serve the people by engendering the idea of the forcefield that would eventually protect the Sirian isles from invasion – but I didn’t know that at the time, didn’t have time to argue, and so I let him go.  It wouldn’t do to have someone who was unwilling to face his own personal demons before coming into contact with real ones.  I sensed the core of fear and understood.  Even as a warrior, I knew compassion for my men.  I learned that, in part, from a great one, Commander and Lord Lyonell, of the Pleiadian fleet, one of my early mentors.

In the early days of my apprenticeship with Commander Lyonell, he had me accompany a scouting/clean-up team that was going to visit one of the isolated Pleiadian isles after an attack.  Understand that the Pleiadian star system has thousands of isles within it and since the beginning salvos of the galactic wars, several smaller systems like that of Lord Lyonell and his feline people had entered under Pleiadian jurisdiction as their fleet was one of the largest around.  Still, the ships couldn’t be everywhere at once and so there were casualties.

As we flew over the isle in question at low elevation, the team could see indications of violent fighting, houses, and outbuildings on fire, crops destroyed, trees and shrubs chopped down, but there was very little evidence of survivors.  We wondered about this…until the scanning tech indicated to the captain of the crew that he spotted some life-signs a short way from the last group of buildings we had passed over.  We circled back and seeking an open space, landed.  The crew wisely used precautions, placing guards at the ship as the rest of us scattered in twos to search out the survivors.

What we saw made our stomachs clench… a woman was sprawled out on the ground.  Her clothes were torn, her face and what we could see of her body bruised and swollen.  She had been raped…that was obvious.

She was barely coherent but managed to grab up a hidden knife and aim it at the first man who walked up; she knew how to defend herself.  The officer kicked it away and bent down, speaking to her softly, moving closer.  She tried to crawl away and then stopped and stared directly at me.  Who are you?  These are Pleiadians…but who…what are you?

Most of the men I was with that day were pure-blooded human Pleiadians, solid, tall and dark-haired for the most part.  I stood out as I was slender in build, tall with white blonde hair and with the pale white-bluish skin of a high-born Sirian…something not often seen in these parts.  I would imagine that my mind was also slightly strange to her, as well.

I signed to the other men, wait there, and then approached her slowly, carefully, with my weaponless hands fully exposed in front of my body.   I directed a thought, “Friend”, and a stream of calming energies towards the woman who was now endeavoring to sit up.  I felt and saw her sense the energies and intent of my greeting and began to relax.   It was a trick, a skill that my Father had taught me, mostly to use around frightened animals, but it also worked on people in need.

I got down on my knees at her side when I sensed that she was now open to receiving help.  She then startled me by abruptly reaching out and placing her hands on either side of my face.  Instinctively I attempted to pull back but then stopped the motion as she began to send a series of relentless images directly into my consciousness, searing images:

Night, they came in the night…burning, shooting at people… (Sob) they grabbed the children, all the children and some of the women, killed the men…

 The images she sent into my consciousness were far more graphic than I care to share here.  Then she drew my face down to hers.  Dirty, streaked with tears, bloody with scratches, she looked wildly into my eyes…I saw what they were going to do with the children; I saw it in their ugly minds…!

 With the last horrible images etched across my consciousness, she sighed, and then fell into a faint.  I signaled to one of the other men to bring a stretcher.  The woman would need immediate care.

I’m not writing a horror story here, but if you have read or watch anything about satanic abuse and ritual then you will be quite aware of what was ahead for the captured children.  For the women, they would become slaves until they were killed, too.  The modus operandi of these creatures hasn’t changed in the thousands of years since the great star wars.  Yes, they’re here, on Earth, among you now; working in a slower, more covert manner than they did with us, but the intention is the same, to steal your world away and kill your people.  Some of them appear to be human, but they have only a semblance of a heart that keeps their bodies functioning; the rest is all arrogant darkness.

The men were horrified that these things were happening to their people, to the innocent ones…to anyone.  I conveyed my thoughts to them, although I wasn’t in command and not Pleiadian.  Let us survey the rest of the isle and see if there are any other survivors.  Then we must take this woman back with us to the mothership so she can receive medical care and healing.

The captain looked at me with amusement.  You’re not one of us…

 Does it matter?  She is a human being and needs help.  And there may be more who need our help?   

The captain nodded in agreement.  Do as the Sirian says.  Take the woman on board.  If she wakes, give her some liquids and keep her warm; she’s in shock and is badly hurt.

The isle was small so it was a quick trip.  I wondered if the woman we rescued was the one who managed to send for help.  Yes…came the faint telepathic reply.  I am the only one… I couldn’t save them!

Fortunately, the woman survived her wounds.  She was a tough one, a farmer’s wife.  At least as a Pleiadian female, she would not be subjected to the ordeal of suttee, a realization that appealed to my senses.  Then, with some guilt, I admonished myself for questioning the ancient beliefs and customs of my Sirian people.  Still, the idea stuck in my head, filed away for consideration later…

As she recovered on the return trip, I proceeded to quietly make friends with San’ai as she called herself.  She had an excellent talent for observation, was quite intelligent and possessed a strong will to live.  She described what she termed the slave ship that had landed smaller shuttles on her world.  The population was small on this simple agricultural isle, just three or four large extended families working huge acres.  This information amazed me; our farmers used many more people, but it did seem that some of the isles were very sparsely inhabited, indeed.  No wonder it was hard to defend them…

When we returned to the mothership, I spoke personally with Commander Lyonell after he had been briefed by the Pleiadian crew.  The lord was standing in his conference room, next to the large chair that he usually sat in during planning meetings.  He stretched his long arms up, much like a smaller cat, yawned, and then gave me a penetrating look with his golden eyes.  So what did you think about that little trip, Sirian?

In a swift flood of images, I conveyed what we had encountered, the woman and her story, what I thought should be done to better defend these more isolated isles… and finally, to recommend that the woman be given the option of joining the Command.  She was tough, a fighter, intelligent, and well suited to be of use…and her family was gone, her way of life destroyed.  When I was done with my report, I added, Now, I see why I need to continue this fight and do whatever is necessary to keep my people safe!

 Lyonell was silent for a moment, and then he yawned, again… Sorry, I need some rest; I’ve been on this since 0600.  He paused, looking at me thoughtfully, and said: You know…the captain was right about you.  You have a natural air of command and a degree of compassion and understanding not many warriors possess.  I foretell that you will go far in your Sirian fleet; that someday, you may even be its head commander!

He was right… a mere twenty years later; I was the head commander…until the day of my last battle.

Being the only Sirian here, I had intentionally kept another observation to myself… San’ai was afraid of the Pleiadians, at first, before she noticed me.  Why?  

You can see this as a story, but it is, in reality, my story…the story of an earlier incarnation as a Sirian male.  Some of the people involved in this story have walked into my life in this one or at least have come to my attention through social media.  I do not share these stories out of a desire to make myself look important in the eyes of others, but to assist myself in clearing the old energies of trauma, what I suffered as a warrior through being in battle, but more importantly, what others suffered around me through the seemingly endless years of war and attrition.  Even Sirust, the great sprawling capital city of Sirius A, suffered from vicious attacks, although they were rapidly repelled.  It was a revelation to our people about the importance of coming together to work to save our worlds; it was the seeds planted that eventually led the Sirian people to create a collective thought form that would forever protect their world.  And when that was completed and the safety of our worlds assured (Sirius A, Osiris, Ganat, and the other small isles and moons) it was time for our Sirian fleet to assist our Pleiadian allies in their battle to drive the enemy out of their star system.

My role in this great Sirian drama was at an end.  Due to my dedication to Sirius, my Father, Lord Chananda and his Father, Lord Krishna, appealed to the Lords of Karma for a special dispensation on my behalf, that I receive healing for my light body until it was time for me to reincarnate in another time and place.  I did not know of this until just as I write these words as this kind of knowledge comes when it is time to be dispensed and only then.  I do not know why I was afforded such consideration, only that I am truly grateful to the ones I still call Father and Great Grandfather today!

If my words can help one other person towards being able to release their ancient trauma from the Star Wars, then I have done well.  You see, what is going on in your world today is the culmination of those same wars.  They did not end when the fallen ones were thrown out of the higher worlds; they are here today among you, posing as regular people.  They are not.  Do not fall into fear, however, as Victory of the Light is at hand.  The Galactic Federation of Light, forged from those battles long ago, is here in your solar system and in your skies, to aid humanity in their fight for freedom!  Call for our assistance, as we respect your free will even as your enemies do not.

Peace to all,

I AM Line Cmdr. Sundeelia VaCoupe, of the Pleiadian Flagship, “The White Winds”

white lily

© All Rights Reserved, 2012-18.  No videos or records are allowed.  No use of this material in part in articles or published material without express written permission of the author is allowed.  If reposting, acknowledge the author, Elizabeth Ayres Escher, and link back to the original page and content on www.bluedragonjournal.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

3 thoughts on “Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 9: “Motivation”

    • Thank you, Fiona! These stories are just welling up from some deep inner depth. It is very therapeutic to release the pain. I’ve shed so many tears this past week and I’m not an emotional person by nature… Much love to you in Oz land!

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