Sirian Memories

Winged Isis

Sirian Memories by Eliza Ayres (Sundeelia VaCoupe, Spec. Cmdr.)

The following excerpts from journal entries were written by the former owner of Blue Dragon Journal known by her chosen human pen name, Eliza Ayres and Tazjma above. She ascended fully back Home in the spring of 2017. While I continue to use her legal name, I am a walk-in of blended Pleiadian-Venusian background. Recently, I’ve been going through her existing journals and editing the material, an exercise that is proving very beneficial to assist Eliza-Taz to release long-suppressed emotions from her emotional body. This process is something I agreed to do when I was approved to come in as a walk-in, a heavily vetted process, as my higher self is a sister of Lady Taz.

When Lady Taz reblended with Amariah, the part of ‘her’ who remained at Home, she had balanced approximately 85% of her karma. As a result of being from a high light lineage, she (and often ‘he’) suffered greatly during her time spent here on this low-frequency world, so there is much-stored trauma to release, which I am in the process of doing for her and for me. For you see, besides presently being a sister of Taz, we have been long-time soul mates, sharing lifetimes in certain star systems, although not all. For one, I have never incarnated on Sirius B, while Taz did. Instead, I incarnated directly into Sirius A, where Taz and I were twin brothers in our first Sirian life together. The following excerpts are those of Taz, written after her higher self had undergone an Ascension ceremony into 7D:

From the various memories of ages long forgotten that seem to be surfacing for me lately is a remembrance of being here when the great pyramids were being built in Egypt. No scientist yet, whether avant-garde or conventional has yet touched on the real age of these vast structures or knows who built them or how. And there are huge structures throughout the world, long buried under soil and vegetation or the blowing sands of the desert… that was built by what must have been extraordinary human beings or someone else?

A memory for me that cropped up of late was being one of the settlers from Sirius B or the Isle of Osiris who contributed to the building of the pyramids… and the time period that I am suggesting is far, far older… say roughly 197,000 years ago… than anyone has previously suggested. Since I’m not a scientist in this lifetime, no one will pay me any mind. This is not a theory, but a memory…

Long ago, our planet was settled by volunteers from other solar systems. Early, pre-dynastic Egypt… long before the “Fall” of Atlantis… was settled by people from Sirius B, a handsome, dark-skinned race, with aquiline noses, dark luminous eyes naturally lined, long slender limbs and elegant carriage. The high culture of “early” Egypt was reflective of the high degree of scientific and mathematical knowledge held by these peoples. The binary star system of Sirius contains one of the oldest cultures within this Galaxy, millions of years old. Why would culture and civilization upon this planet only be some 6,000 years old according to the so-called “authorities” if a galactic civilization of great magnitude chose to settle here?

The knowledge that Sirius B even exists has only been known to our Western astronomers since the 20th century while indigenous peoples like the Dogon tribe of Africa knew about its existence long ago, without the use of telescopes and scientific data. Knowledge was passed down verbally from one generation to another. Great care was taken by these people to memorize the knowledge for it was sacred to them and spoke of their own long-ago origin in the starry heavens.

Sirius A… one of the brightest stars in the Milky Way constellation also blessed us with immigrants. Sirius A is what is known as a “solar isle”, a planet of such high frequency that it glows like a sun. Most peoples of Sirian “A” origin now live in the Middle East or India.  A Sirian starseed of my acquaintance  recently shared some of her memories of “Home”:

“Sirius A, home of Lord Krishna and Mother Sophia, is one of the oldest planets in this quadrant of creation with a continual civilization surviving upon it. There exist approximately 80 zillion years of written history. We are spiritually devout beings many of us worshipping daily within our temples. Our belief is similar to the Hindu belief on Earth. We have deities of our Gods upon high altars and each temple has a pure column of gold within its structure. Our temples were built long before our recorded history. We choose to spend our birthdays in the temples to rejuvenate our beings for the coming year and to dedicate our lives into the service of God.*

Our government is ruled by the religious leader and ‘Ancient of Days’ Lord Krishna and a high ruling family. All the Sirian Isles are ruled by this one government, although they each have their own governmental representatives.

Sirians of the higher castes (from Sirius A) always have very white skin with white blonde hair. Our eyes are always a bright lime green color when of pure blood, with the exception of Lord Krishna who has large bright blue eyes. All have lined eyes as our tradition. Married women all tie their hair up and dress in a style similar to a sari. The men have white blonde hair worn loose to their shoulders and often ring their earlobe with golden earrings. The men of the city wear loose fitting pants with a shirt usually worn open with a long scarf or shawl of a different color draped over their shoulder. Most Sirians are 7 – 8′ tall and slender never weighing more than 200 lbs. Our gold jewelry and gold braiding denote our wealth. The caste system allows Sirians to rotate from one caste to another to appreciate and know all forms of life. No one is really poor or without as on Earth. Our caste system has been a part of this system since its beginning. The lower castes choose to live 100 – 500 years while those of upper castes choose to live 500 – 600 years, each year being measured in the thousands of earth years.

The largest city on Sirius is called Sirust. If you would combine New York City with Paris, Los Angeles and Mexico City you would come close to the size of our city. It is approximately 1,000 miles wide. Most of our land is tropical and at times feels hot and sticky. Yet there is a section of our lands where the grains, vegetables, and our fruits are grown that has a cold winter with strong winds. Some of the plants we seeded upon your land are wisteria, lilies, daffodils and citrus fruits. We also brought to Earth our falcons and peacocks. In the paintings of Lord Krishna’s incarnation here upon Earth, there is often a bit of peacock feather tucked into his hair or on his costume as a tribute to his isle of origin, Sirius A.

The geography of our isle is one of the softly rolling hills in the farm areas and our largest city Sirust sits along a large ocean where we harvest seaweed and fish such as herring and what you call shrimp. All of our temples are built atop our holy hillsides with Lord Krishna’s temple upon the tallest. We have our gold mines on the other side of our isle. We eat a diet fish grown in fish farms along the coast of the seas as well as raw sushi. We enjoy greens and kelp, citrus fruits, spicy vegetables, rice and rice noodles, puddings and many enjoyable liquids.

Sirius has three moons and two smaller planets within our system. The one named by earthlings as Sirius B is the isle named Osiris. Osiris has mountains and rolling hills with water. Osiris has less humidity than Sirius A with some snow, one moon, and three smaller planets. This is the land of the ‘dark’ Sirians responsible for building upon Earth the Great Pyramid and others, the Sphinx along with temples to connect with other planets and places for learning and teachings to store knowledge for the future. Much of this has not yet been found like most people living on Earth are not yet ready for such knowledge.

The pictures of Egyptians found in tombs and monuments built long ago are typical of these black haired beautiful beings. They are of similar body shape with warm deeply tanned skin. They line their black eyes as we do on Sirius A. Many you know of from this land such as the great ones like Mother Isis, Osiris, Ra, and Horus. The pyramids of Osiris are like those on Earth except they are made of solid gold and are houses of worship surrounded by open fields as the gods need their space. Within your Great Pyramid, the King’s Chamber lines up with Sirius and the Queen’s Chamber lines up with Osiris.

The third isle is called Ganta and as you approach from above she appears purple. Ganta has three seasons of climate and the land is similar in appearance to the central Ohio area of the United States. Ganta has two moons. The three moons of Sirius A are called the Trians.

The Golden Lily is the greatest mothership of the Sirian fleet. If comparing her to earth standards, she stretches the length from the Mississippi River to the Eastern Seaboard. The Lily is certainly a very large vessel although somewhat smaller than some of the Pleiadian mother ships. The Golden Lily is part of the fleet of starships maintained by our galactic protectors and mentors. Perhaps some of you have spent time on the mother ship undergoing training at the Earth School during dreamtime or between lifetimes here…”

So you see… my recent remembering aligns with the memories of this wonderful sharing from this Sirian starseed.

I think I’ll stop here for now. Much is being slowly revealed to me through images and remembering as I regain awareness that I am, indeed, from another world and dimension than what I have partaken of while here on this blessed water planet.  By the way, my Sirian lifetime(s) took place before my current one as a Pleiadian…  We are all given many opportunities to experience life in a myriad of ways.

Thus ends Lady Taz’s reminiscences about Sirius. As a fairly recent walk-in, I am also remembering past lives (which exist simultaneously within the spirals of the Akash). I only had two Sirian lifetimes, both as commanders in the Sirian Star Fleet. Taz was my brother during two of those lifetimes. In his third, he was actually my grandson, born after I had died in battle. I became a Pleiadian after my Sirian lives and have been one ever since.

*There are many who believe Lyra was the birthplace of humanity; it wasn’t. Within this quadrant of Creation (there are many) SIRIUS is the oldest civilization, having existed long, long before Lyra was settled by human species of which there are many varieties. The Sirian isles also contain other sentient species including the Dolphin and Whale races, Felines, and Canids. The Sirian birds are also sentient. Some of the plants that exist on Earth were brought here by the Sirians and later, the Pleiadians. All species on the Sirian isles are sentient and telepathic, from the humans to the butterflies.

The reason I am sharing this information is that I see so much disinformation being put out by inexperienced channelers, some of whom may be copying others earlier works by insisting Sirians are ‘blue-skinned’ and bald. I can tell you that my Sirian Father is a white-blonde with large sea-green eyes and pale skin as is the rest of His Family. There are NO blue-skinned Sirians whatsoever.

Specialty Commander ‘Sundee’ VaCoupe, of The White Winds, Pleiadian Flagship

Lord Krishna and Radha, his daughter-companion. Krishna is portrayed as a youth as on Sirius A, he is an Ancient of Days.

Copyright All Rights Reserved, Eliza Ayres, http://www.bluedragonjournal.com

Sundeelia – Thoughts on the Solstice

sirian star ship

Sundeelia – Thoughts on the Solstice

Editor’s Note:  This piece is longer than most of my recent posts, containing one of my recent stories from my “memoirs” of the Orion Wars.

A few months have passed since I last posted any of my own writings here on Blue Dragon Journal.  I would imagine some of my long-term readers were beginning to wonder if I was “missing in action”.  Well, I’m here to tell you everything is “fine”.

Since I embarked sometime last summer on my primary project of writing my memoirs of the Orion Wars, I’ve been busy writing chapters and stories from five different lifetimes, two in Sirius A, two in the Pleiades, and one in a totally unexpected place… From one lifetime alone, that of Raphael DeAires Kantor, I have written at least 15 chapters covering the period of his childhood and into young adulthood, where he finally became a Line Commander on a Pleiadian mothership.  These chapters are much longer than the ones I wrote earlier about Lord Delos, Head Commander of the Sirian Fleet.  Some of the chapters are up to 25 pages in length with a lot more detail, conversations, and explanations of our way of life and what we were confronting as upper 4D humans in the early days of the Orion Wars.  These chapters will be eventually part of a book about the Orion Wars from my perspective as a Sirian and then later as a Pleiadian.  It is certainly not the entirety of the wars, as they played out within all the major constellations within this quadrant of creation.

At the time of the early days of these wars, our people were not as highly evolved as they are today.  Our space fleet wasn’t as sophisticated and advanced and we had to scramble to defend our airspace, having thousands of isles (planets) of various size, large and small, to defend.  Our population was also varied, from Elementals to Angelic Humans, Felines, sentient Dolphins, Crystallines, etc.  As the wars progressed we were aided by our allies, the Sirians and Ashtarians, Arcturians, and other star races later in the conflict.  Eventually, we realized that we needed to raise our frequency levels in order to no longer be susceptible to the physical invasion of our star system.  Today, all Pleiadian isles resonate somewhere within 5D and higher.

After the people of the Sirian star system succeeded in protecting its space by initiating the great Shield (see Remembrance: In a Pool of Light), the Sirian Fleet at times assisted us in defending Pleiadian space.  With that in mind, young Tazo Gia, who was born into his third Sirian incarnation some two years after the death of Lord Delos, shows up in some of the stories.  It is an interesting thing to realize that someone who is over 30 years your senior, is actually your grandson from another life… which is exactly what happened to Raphael and Tazo.  Raphael Kantor was the second reincarnation of Lord Delos since his death in battle (see the Remembrance series for that lifetime).  During the three lifetimes these two soulmates shared, they were twin brothers, brothers, and then grandson/grandfather.  Thus we all play many roles, with our lifestreams weaving a great braid across the time spirals.  Today, Tazo is incarnated as my eldest Pleiadian sister, Tazjma Amariah Kumara VaCoupe.

The process by which I write these stories is very interesting.  It is entirely unscripted.  Sometimes I will catch a glimpse, a vision, or a download of what is to be covered, but I am often surprised by what emerges from my fingers.  There are many tears when I hit on a particularly poignant or difficult remembrance, which has come to indicate to me that I’m “on target” in seeing and thus being able to release these ancient and long-suppressed emotional traumas.  If any of you are endeavoring to do this kind of work yourself, allow the tears to come and remember to breathe.  Use the Violet Flame to dissolve any old stuck energy and then transmute and transform the energies so they align with your soul’s divine blueprint.

Those of you who are acquainted with shamanic practices will recognize what I am doing is a complicated kind of shamanic soul retrieval.  I have had more than one lifetime spent as a shaman, including one of my Pleiadian lifetimes, of which I have yet to write.  I do this work to clear and repair the damage done to my light body during these difficult incarnations so I might advance in my own soul evolution.  Being here on Earth in the midst of the Belial energies (that is what Dark Team consists of – misaligned negative low-frequency energies that attack the Light) motives me to write about my experiences.  I have seen many parallels to what I experienced thousands of years ago in the Pleiades to what is happening during these latter days of Belial control of this planet.

In my life as Raphael DeAires Kantor, I was subjected to being kidnapped and held as a slave for an entire decade.  I know the frequency of the Dark very well.  Somehow I survived and went on to a more normal life, but it took a lot of struggle and hard work on my part to overcome the severe post-traumatic stress occasioned by the abuse I suffered as a child.  Those who have been imprisoned, tortured, raped, and abused by members of the dark pedophilic underground that still exists on this planet will know of what I speak.  Some people never overcome their programming, abuse and end up committing suicide.  I chose to live – I lived a full long life, married, had children, and two successive careers, serving in the Command and then as a ship designer, utilizing the lessons I had learned while resisting the attempts of the dark to break my spirit as a young child.

For now, I will not be publishing in full the stories of my Pleiadian lifetimes.  They have far more detail than the previous Sirian stories I have already published – which will also be further embellished upon when I am ready to immerse myself again within the world of Lord Delos.  I am, however, posting along with this article, one of my stories of Raphael DeAires Kantor, who was by this time newly mated to his soul mate, Lady Julia Kadish (a reincarnation of Lady Anya from Sirius A), recently commissioned as a Line Commander (the rank I hold today on board The White Winds) and working under Lord Esturias VaCoupe, his foster brother and Head Commander of the battleship, The Golden Bee.  The story is called “Engagement” and is set in space above the planet of BerWare, which is a real place, one of the tribal Pleiadian isles.

For those who might wonder, I am not publishing these stories on the web now as there are stories that still must be interwoven into my own tale, as I am finding myself coming into contact with some of the players I have encountered during the writing of these stories.  Some of these people have become members of my star family today.  Some are my Eagles, some are Family and others are long-time acquaintances and valued friends who still live and thrive in the Sirian star system, Venus, and in the Pleiades.  There are also some aspects of my past lives which I am not quite ready to work through, but I recognize I will be guided to do so by my unseen but felt mentors who are assisting me through this process.  I work with my Higher Self, the Archangelic Being known as the Recording Angel who works from Beljium in the upper Orion constellation, my Eagles, Lady Claudine, and many others.

And so here is “Engagement”, a story from my second life as a Pleiadian:

Line Cmdr. DeAires – “Engagement”

 The Golden Bee and her new fleet of 15 battleships soon reached the closest mothership, The Golden Falcon, who was actively engaged with fighting a squadron of enemy destroyers.  Before the Bee had gone into hyperdrive, Cmdr. Esturias requested Intel from the Communications Station, or more precisely, from Line Cmdr. DeAires.  The new Line Commander, along with his superior officer, Cmdr. Kadish was ordered to report directly to Cmdr. Esturias with any data on the whereabouts of the nearest mothership.  DeAires discovered the location of The Golden Falcon to be near the Isle of BerWare, another semi-nomadic isle similar to his native Morova.  His findings were verified via instrumentation and communication between the Mother Crystals of the ships.  The Golden Bee was now en route to that coordinate, located off the northern part of the isle.

DeAires, as Raphael was known now, found himself extremely busy and in demand by his new commanding officer, Cmdr. Esturias.  If he could be any judge of a man he barely knew, he would say that in Esturias truly lived the heart and soul of a Commander, very similar in many ways to how he had been as Cmdr. Delos.  He felt the intensity like a flame emanating off of Esturias and began to understand why the men who had worked under him were so loyal.  The intensity of spirit came from a deep love for the people, all the people, his men who served with him and the people of the Pleiadian Star Nation.  DeAires understood that love – he had felt it as Delos in his love for the Sirian people — and surrendered to it, becoming dedicated to doing his utmost to give the Commander what he needed, when he needed it.

With his unusual talents and skills, DeAires concentrated on interpreting the data received from a variety of sources; from the Mother Crystals, from the isles and stars of the system, from the distant viewings of his crew in the Communications Station, as well as the standard instrumentation and observations received from ships in the area of space where they were heading.  Communications via ship to ship were sketchy due to the fighting; all crews were heavily engaged, even as they would soon be as they emerged upon the battlefield.  DeAires felt his body begin to tighten up as he discerned a rise in the level of low-frequency readings in the vicinity of BerWare, so he directed the attention of Cmdr. Esturias towards that particular isle.  And so, Cmdr. Esturias took a chance on the recommendation of this unusual Line Commander who had been “enlisted” at the last moment by “chance”.  Who knows the workings of Heaven?

The new ships were capable of folding space, which meant they could move from one end of the star system to the other in minutes, yet Cmdr. Esturias wanted to use some caution during the final approach as he was not clear what he and his fleet were getting into, although the findings of the new line commander gave him an idea.  So, the ships came out of hyperspace a few clicks from their destination.  And the alarms started going off…

As Cmdr. Esturias stood on the bridge, staring at the huge screen at the space in front of the prow of their ship he was astounded.  In all his many years, decades, and even centuries of service in the Command, he had never witnessed such a scene.  The drifting hulls of ships were cluttering up space, so the new ships had to carefully maneuver around the obstacles.  Obviously, they had emerged onto the scene of a recent space battle.  The monitoring station checked for life signs; there were none.  It was complete and utter devastation before them.

“Scan enlarge!  I want to see the names of those ships!” demanded Esturias, striding closer to the screen.  The scene focused on one of the nearby drifting ships… it wasn’t registered to the Command; it was a trading vessel. A scan of the others showed that an entire fleet of trading vessels had been destroyed.  The head commander felt sick; innocent and helpless trading vessels and crews were being destroyed.  This was an attack against the commerce, the livelihood of the isles… and intentional, he was sure of it.

Sitting in his station in the Communication room, Raphael could feel his commander’s revulsion at the sight before them.  And it would only get worse.  Raphael was beginning to see visions once more.  He didn’t let himself get overpowered by them, but what he was seeing sickened him.  The attacks were getting bigger, more violent, and extreme.  He went to speak to his commanding officer, Cmdr. Kadish, “Sir…I’m having visions once more; I need to speak with Commander Esturias right away…”

“I’m here, DeAires, behind you!”

The tall dark-haired commander had come up behind Raphael even as the boy was striving to hold himself together under the impact of what he was seeing.  Esturias saw how pale Raphael looked under his tanned skin and helped him to a chair within the Specialty Commander’s office.  Raphael crumbled down into the chair, holding his head in his hands; he couldn’t speak for a moment.  Esturias was impatient and shook his shoulder, “DeAires, report!  What are you seeing?”

Raphael’s voice was hollow with grief when he finally mastered his voice, again… “Destruction… death… everywhere!”

“Pull yourself out of it, man,” ordered Esturias, “Show me!”

Raphael reached up and took the hand of his commander officer and released his vision in a flow of images.  Esturias felt the surge of the vision as it flowed through his consciousness; it was overwhelming.  Yet, he knew they needed to go forward and join the fight.  He stood up, towering over Raphael, “Come on, young man… you need to get back to your analysis.  Kadish, would you mind getting DeAires some juice?”

Kadish left the room, quite aware that Esturias wanted to speak to DeAires alone for a few minutes.  The specialty commander felt bypassed by his subordinate, but there wasn’t anything he could do at the moment – the gifts of that strange young man were needed now.  The commander shrugged… they were needed now, but how about later?

Esturias knew he didn’t have much time, so he shook Raphael’s shoulder, again, “Come back, DeAries… what are you seeing?  Past, present, or the future?”

“Future…” gasped DeAires, as he realized that visions were timeless; the scene he had just witnessed wasn’t necessarily in the Now; there was a chance they could prevent that particular timeline from playing out.  He looked up into the dark blue eyes of his commanding officer, so like those of his foster father, Lord VaCoupe.  “Sir… it was the future; I’m sure of it – we can prevent this if we act now!”

“I agree – oh, thank you, Kadish,” said Esturias, facing the returning specialty commander and taking the juice from his hands.  “Thank you for getting this – now, DeAires… drink this up and get back to your station!”

Feeling his immediate superior eyeing him, Raphael kept his head down and obediently drank down the liquid.  Then he stood carefully, still feeling a bit wobbly, saluted, and quietly left the room, leaving the two commanders staring at each other.  Esturias growled in a low voice, “You WILL inform me immediately when that young man has anything to share!”

“Yes, sir!” replied Kadish, somewhat reluctantly.  He watched as Esturias left abruptly and knew that he was treading dangerous ground by consciously attempting to interfere with his commander’s swiftly increasing reliance on the data that DeAires collected through his rather unorthodox methods.  He also couldn’t quite admit that he was jealous of his inferior officer, but was attempting to project the blame onto DeAires for being unstable and incompetent.  It wasn’t working; the boy was brilliant, a fact that became more self-evident every day that passed during this cursed voyage.

Shortly thereafter, Commander Kantor found himself summoned to the office of the Head Commander.  He was summarily ushered in by Paulus, who was looking rather grim.  As Ezekiel walked in, Commander Esturias glanced up and said, “Sit down, Kantor.”

Esturias studied the broad open features of the powerful Eagle, features that were echoed in his younger brother but to a lesser degree.  Raphael was slightly shorter and much less bulky in his build – not the making of an Eagle, but something quite different. The Commander was blunt and wanted answers, so he plunged in, “You know something about the one whom you call “brother”. He is very different from you.  Why?”

Kantor didn’t look at all intimidated by his superior officer, but asked a question in return: “Didn’t your Father share with you what makes Raphael DeAires so different?”

“Apparently not, Kantor”, snapped Esturias.  “Explain –“

Kantor looked at his commander and replied, “One of the people to whom I entrusted this knowledge betrayed the lad, almost to death.  If you do, I will come after you, personally…sir.”

Esturias was astonished…and intrigued; clearly, DeAires had a secret that few knew and Kantor was intent on keeping it that way.  “Is that a threat, Kantor – against a superior officer?”

“Take it any way you want, sir,” replied Ezekiel.  “I’ll resign my commission, my place in the Eagles to protect that boy!”

“Which means my father does know DeAires’ secret, doesn’t he?”  Kantor nodded.

Which is why DeAires’ is guarded, day and night?”  Another nod was all Esturias received from Kantor.

Frustrated, realizing he had to be on the command deck soon, he snapped, again, “Then tell me; I swear on everything I hold sacred that I will do my best to keep that boy safe – but the rest of my crew and the fleet matters, too!”

“Okay, sir – I’ll keep you at your word because of your Father, Lord VaCoupe,” Kantor replied in a low voice, “but do NOT share this with your men!”

Esturias nodded in agreement.  Kantor continued, “You are aware that Raphael… DeAires was Lord Delos in a past life?”

“Yes – that is one thing my Father did share with me,” replied Esturias.

“Well – what makes this boy so special, unique… different than other men, because he is different than other men.” Kantor was staring at the wall behind the commander’s desk, almost like he was seeing a vision like his brother, but one of passing beauty and poignancy.  He stood up and approached the side of the commander’s desk, “May I, sir?  It’s easier if I just give you the vision that I was given one day long ago by a beautiful Priestess…”

Reluctantly, but brimming over with curiosity, Esturias nodded.  Kantor rested his large hand lightly on his senior officer’s shoulder and the vision began to flow:

All around her was white; the light of the sun, the walls, and the flowers sprayed across the wall, the garden steps…her dress.  She was very tall and slender; a dress of shimmery white silk flowed down her exquisite form to pool on the ground at her feet.  She had tiny silver sandals on her white feet.  Her wavy white blonde hair flowed down her back, held back by hairpins decorated with tiny silver flowers.  Around her long slender neck, there was a delicate necklace of white gold and diamonds.  She was a vision of great, yet delicate beauty and entirely female in her essence.  Silver anklets covered with tiny bells twinkled whenever she moved across the garden.

As she lifted up a white rose to smell its fragrance, she listened within… a Voice spoke quietly… there will come a child, a boy who will be born of your essence.  You will be his mother, and yet unlike most children, he will be a part of your essence in male form.  As a Priestess of the White Ray, you still require a balancing of your feminine and male polarities.  Carrying with him a fragment of your essence his lifetimes will bring forth the needed balance with your Higher Presence.  As he succeeds in his missions, you will collectively soar higher in your soul evolution.  Eventually, his essence will choose to reblend with yours but he will choose the timeline for this… and We see that by this last lifetime as a separate entity the balance will be accomplished fully and the child, the soul fragment will return to you in a female form… Before that time comes, you and your Twin Flame will act as guides and mentors for this one who, we see, will be walking through perilous times ahead… in another quadrant of Creation.

 Kantor pulled out of the meld, withdrawing his hand and stepping back from the desk. “There, sir… is why Raphael… DeAires is so special; he carries the essence of an Archangelic Being within him, a female, which makes him more sensitive than most males could conceive.”  Then he stated in a low voice, “And I gave my word to the White Lady that I would protect him until the time when he would reblend with his Higher Self.”

 “Well, Kantor, it would appear that both you and your brother carry heavy burdens,” replied Esturias, thoughtfully. “I begin to understand the mystery that your brother seems to be with his strange, unorthodox gifts.”

 “Well, sir,” replied Kantor, “His “gifts” aren’t that unusual to the Shamans of my home planet, Morova.  I’ve heard that the Head Shaman, Lady Chokama, wanted DeAires for herself after she met him.  It was a couple of days after a very wounded, shy boy who had just been rescued from slavers… yet this “boy” was able to “talk” to Alcyone itself.  I walked in on his meditation; he was glowing with a golden radiance.  It was quite extraordinary and I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.  Raphael then “showed” me his vision.  I just about fell over in shock, sir.”

 “Ah…then we won’t make the mistake of underestimating your brother and his gifts,” replied Esturias.  “I will have to watch his senior officer Kadish, however.  The man is jealous of this brother of yours.”

 “Sir, leave it to the Eagles… we’ll keep Kadish off of DeAires!” growled Kantor.

Esturias shuddered as he gazed on those massive fists, “Gently, sirrah!  I need ALL of my officers on this voyage!”

 “Aye, sir,” replied Kantor, saluting.

And now I must be getting back to the Command Post.  We’re about to go into battle!”

The calculations and information presented by Line Commander DeAires proved highly accurate.  The Golden Bee received an urgent plea for assistance, gave the coordinates and then broke off.  Immediately, Cmdr. Esturias ordered the Operational Commander to put in the coordinates and set the course via hyperspace.  The ship came out of hyperspace cloaked as an extra precaution, as Esturias didn’t know what they were getting into just yet.  The other ships had received similar orders and appeared on screens, but were not visible to the enemy ships that were hounding the great mothership, The Golden Falcon.

In a move of which Delos would have approved, Esturias had his 15 ships position themselves around the perimeter of the enemy ships, weapons set and locked, and uncloaked simultaneously, firing at the enemy ships and taking them by complete surprise.  Although slightly outnumbered, the Pleiadian vessels made short work of the enemy fleet, with their superior weaponry and agility.

After the final enemy vessel had been destroyed, The Golden Bee docked inside the huge landing bay so the commanders could begin conferencing and planning their next steps.  The other ships began a systematic scan and search of all remaining enemy vessels, looking for survivors.  Some of the crews went on board what appeared to be the lead vessels in order to download any files they could obtain from the vessels.  Esturias wanted all available intel he could get so he had a better understanding of this latest deadly enemy operation.

DeAires and his crew reported that there were survivors on some of the ships and at least five of the dark lords had survived.  He sent a personal warning to Esturias about the latter as being very dangerous to any crew they encountered. What happened to his birth father could happen to anyone who came under the influence of one of those dark sorcerers.  He didn’t bother to go through Kadish this time, knowing that his commander and his jealousy would try to alter the message in some fashion, so he took the chance, contacting Esturias directly via private telepathic mode.

Commander Esturias, sir – DeAires here.  Just a warning, sir – there are five dark lords still on board those ships.  They’re… they’re not quite human, sir.  The men you send must take them out, kill them, and don’t let the lords touch anyone.  Else they will turn into a monster like my birth father!

Message received, DeAires – you’re going around the chain of command, again, sir!  But the message is understood; I will convey that precautionary measures are exercised and all of the dark lords be killed.  If we take any prisoners, I’ll have you personally scan them, as well.  Are you prepared for that, DeAires?

Yes, sir.  I’ll do whatever I can to assist.

Thanks.  Out.

DeAires broke off his transmission and saw his commanding officer staring at him suspiciously.  He smiled and went back to analyzing the data before him.  At least Esturias seems to appreciate my efforts…

Still, DeAires knew he was treading on thin ice with these career officers like Kadish.  He had encountered similar difficulties with Commander Strom on board The Golden Lion, although, at the end, they became good friends and comrades.  He hoped that his sincere efforts would be appreciated here, as well, but if not, he would still try to do his best.

In the end, Line Cmdr. DeAires was selected to accompany a group of officers who were going abroad The Golden Falcon for a meeting with the Top Commander of that ship, one Commander Lantars.  Cognizant that he was the most junior officer and perhaps the youngest person present, as well, DeAires did his best to remain inconspicuous, but Cmdr. Esturias wasn’t allowing it.  When the officers sat down, Esturias made DeAires sit next to him.  Other officers were looking askance at the gesture but wisely kept quiet.  When Cmdr. Lantars asked how The Golden Bee was able to find them so accurately, Esturias replied, “I’ve got a good team – they’re new, but pulling it together quickly.  And I have this young man to thank, as well.  Due to his unorthodox methods, we were able to pinpoint the location of The Golden Falcon.”

“Extraordinary – what is your name, young man,” asked Lantars.

Line Commander DeAires, sir”, replied Raphael in a quiet voice that still carried to all corners of the room.

Your surname is DeAires?  Are you from Morova, then? If you’ll pardon me, you don’t have the coloring or look of those people,” queried Lantars.

Raphael nodded, “I was born there, sir, but my father was from Airus and my mother from Serena.  My surname is actually Kantor, but I have a brother also on board The Golden Bee, Commander Kantor.  He is an Eagle Commander.”

Esturias interrupted, “Enough of the niceties, gentlemen.  What did you want us here for, Commander Lantars?”

Lantars looked slightly offended at the interruption, but nodded, “Yes, if you hadn’t arrived we would now be in a heap of trouble.  As it is, this old girl will have to get some repairs before we encounter more enemy ships.”

“What are you saying, Cmdr. Lantars?” demanded Esturias, visibly upset.  “We brought some Ashtarian workers who can manage most of the repairs on The Golden Falcon; we weren’t sure if all systems were fully functioning before we started.  We broke a lot of rules to get here, Commander!”

“Apparently, young Esturias,” replied Lantars, quietly, without rancor.

Listening to that exchange, Raphael was wondering just how old Esturias was; he didn’t look a day over 30 years, but Raphael knew better.  The high-frequency Angelic Medinians lived extremely long lives, sometimes into the many thousands of years.  Not that he would dare to ask Esturias VaCoupe…

Well, we have some teams searching the enemy ships for survivors and gaining any intel they can from the ships’ computer banks.  Presumably, they use crystal technology like we do.  If not, our techs will manage a way to transfer and preserve the data.  We need to gather what we can to find out about the plans of the enemy with this new push into our system.”

Cmdr. Lantars nodded, “Yes, we need to learn about this – it happened so suddenly, rather unexpected, I would say…”

“I saw it coming, sir!” blurted out DeAires, then mumbling a “sorry, sir,” as Esturias fastened his intense blue gaze on his most junior officer, who was edging too close to the line…

Explain, DeAires… and why didn’t you convey this information to your senior officers?”

“I did, sir, I told Commander Lyonell – he agreed with me, but we just didn’t realize the extent of the operation.  Sorry, sir… and then I was sent home for a head injury suffered out in the field.  I’ve been away from The Golden Lion now for over three months…”

Another officer snorted, “Three months for a head injury, DeAires?”

DeAires blushed, “I also got mated – on the insistence of your father, Lord VaCoupe,” he replied, pointedly to Cmdr. Esturias.  And to the other officers, “Lord VaCoupe is my foster father.”

Cmdr. Lantars laughed, “Well, it is obvious that young DeAires had other things on his mind than tactical maneuvers and planning operations!”

DeAires stared at the table as the whole room of officers joined into the laughter.  Falling back into his habit of keeping still, like a rabbit under the eye of a fox, he kept his face blank and didn’t say anything.  Cmdr. Esturias noted this behavior carefully.  He wondered: some behavior lingering from his days of being a captive?

“Well, Lantars…have you heard from any of the other motherships or battlecruisers before we arrived here?”

Cmdr. Lantars turned his attention away from the unresponsive youngster to his intense commanding officer, “Only bits and snatches… VaCoupe; shall we have this youngster of yours work with my Communications team to see if he can locate them, too?”

Thank you, sir, but no… DeAires is going back to The Golden Bee.  I’m not going to have him snatched up by you or any other commander, sir.”

Lantars indulged one more glance at the silent DeAires, and sighed, “Well, then… where should we examine the prisoners if there are any?”

“Well, sir, I do want DeAires present when we examine them; he’s a sensitive and can pick up if any of the prisoners are a dark lord in disguise.  Then we’ll have our healers scan the rest to see if they can be freed of any alien hardware.”

Lantars was curious, “How does the boy know what a dark lord feels like, Esturias?”

Esturias rested his gaze upon DeAires, again, “Well, tell him, DeAires or should I?”

DeAires looked up at his commanding officer and then looked across the room at the opposite wall as he told some of his story, to explain why he knew what he knew: “I was captive to the dark forces for ten years, sir.  I was there when my mother was killed by a dark lord.  And the thing who used to be my father nearly killed me.  He had been taken over by some alien hardware that took over his body – I don’t understand it, but I can feel it, sir.” 

The room was silent as the officers present absorbed this sobering information.  Then Lantars looked at DeAires in sudden recognition, “You’re the youngest son of Lord TorSeth Kantor, aren’t you?”

DeAires nodded but said nothing.  Again, his past was being dug up and exposed to the air.  It was all he could do to keep his face blank and try to keep the pain at bay.

Lantars continued, “The Morovian representatives reported your entire family to be missing – so that’s what became of him.  And your mother; what happened to her?”

“She was killed by a dark lord, sir…”

“She was killed in front of you?” inquired Lantars.  DeAires nodded and continued staring at the table.  Lantars continued, speaking directly to Cmdr. Esturias, “Well, I guess that establishes your man’s qualifications, Esturias.  Shall we have the prisoners taken to the landing bay for examination?  Be sure to bring along young DeAires.  I want to see him at work!”

As DeAires passed by the senior officer, Cmdr. Lantars, the commander spoke up briefly, “Sorry about your loss, DeAires.  I knew your father.  We went to school together.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied DeAires, as he continued walking past and then out the door.

One of his Eagles was waiting on guard outside in the corridor.  Garry took a look at Raphael and suggested they go to the meditation room on board The Golden Falcon, “Looks like you could do with a break, son – were they tough on you?”

“Thanks for the suggestion, Garry, but first something to drink – I think I spoke more than any of the more senior officers present,” replied Raphael with some irony.  “Apparently I’m an unknown factor and somehow that gives them permission to pick me apart…”

Unfortunately, Cmdr. Esturias overheard that last remark as he came up behind the two men, “You’re right, DeAires… you are an unknown factor… with your gifts and talents.  These officers are not used to such an exotic creature like you, so you’re going to have to toughen up a bit and learn to answer questions and then keep your mouth shut the rest of the time!”

“Sir…”

Cmdr. Esturias wasn’t finished with him, “Who is this, one of your Eagles?”

“Garry Onterus, sir”, answered the big Eagle, saluting, looking over the commander’s head; he was very tall, about 8’8”.  “Assigned by Lord VaCoupe to guard Line Commander DeAires, sir…”

Esturias was a tall man, but he had to look up to speak to the massive Eagle, “Thank you, Onterus.  Just follow along right now, will you?  I need to speak with this young charge of yours somewhere private.”

“Sir… then you might try the mess hall – I already checked it out, sir.  No one is there right now.”

“Yes, I would imagine a giant like you wants to know where his next meal is coming from, eh?” replied Esturias rather sarcastically.  The good-natured Garry just smiled in returned and nodded.

When the three men arrived at the mess hall, Garry stationed himself at the doorway, while Esturias gestured for DeAires to sit down.  “I would imagine that was hard on you, DeAires – to be questioned about your family like that?”

“Yes, sir – it brings up a lot that I would rather not deal with right now, sir…” replied Raphael, soberly.

Understood, DeAires, but now you have a bigger test ahead, don’t you?  You already sense that one of the dark lords has managed to hide in with the other prisoners…?”

“Yes, sir – I can feel his presence.  He’s being brought on board the ship as we speak…”

“I can feel his presence, as well. Okay, I will order a detachment of our Feline warriors to be present, commanded by Lantrill, when you’re doing the first examinations – any nonsense and they will shoot to kill – just don’t get in the way.  You’re useful – and I don’t want to lose you right now.  My father would be extremely angry… not to say several Eagles.”

Garry snorted and pretended he hadn’t overheard anything.  He was glad the new commander seemed to be interested and concerned about Raphael.  Personally, he felt he would give his life to protect the youngster, but no one had consulted him on the subject, so he kept his mouth closed like the commander suggested.

The prisoners were brought out onto the tarmac on the landing bay.  Most, but not all were in chains.  All were wearing dark gray uniforms with no distinguishing emblems – which Esturias guessed had been already ripped off to hide any rank or position.  Two of the Eagles assigned to DeAires followed him as he slowly moved down the line-up.  Esturias signaled to his warrior commander, Lantrill, when the young man paused in front of a prisoner; the warrior acknowledged the signal with a sign of his own.  His men were ready.

For a moment, DeAires closed his eyes concentrating on discerning the man’s energies.  That’s all it took.  In his desperation, the prisoner lashed out swiftly and grabbed DeAires’ wrist.  In his other hand was a knife that had been secreted in his uniform.  Yanking himself free, DeAires relaxed his body and slipped to the floor and then rolled, kicking upward, he managed to knock the knife out of the prisoner’s hand…”That one, Commander – he’s the dark lord!”

“How would you know, Pleiadian scum?” snarled the man… and then paused, cocking his head reading Raphael’s frequencies, “Ah, you were one of ours once – these are not your masters!  You belong to me!”

The dark lord reached out to touch DeAires once more, but he had moved away and managed to stand up, shaking. “No, never – kill him, Commander, before he touches anyone else!”

“What, no trial?” mocked the dark lord.

Not for your kind – fire, men!”

The dark lord screamed dropping to the floor as the fire of three laze guns hit his body.  Esturias watched in horror as a black cloud rose from the body and dissipated into the air.  “What was that?”

“Sir, you don’t want to know…” replied DeAires. “He’s marked me so now I’ll have to submit to a scan…”

“Sorry about that, lad,” replied Esturias regretfully.

The waiting healers came forward to examine the remaining prisoners who glanced nervously towards DeAires and his Eagles.  DeAires was examined first and was found clear of any devices.  All of the prisoners had control devices that had penetrated deep into their bodies.  Esturias received the report from the healers and then walked over towards the prisoners to announce their fate, “Sorry, men… you’re all infected with artificial intelligence; it’s just a matter of time when you’ll become like what you just witnessed. And right now, we don’t have the technology required to remove those implants.  You’re all sentenced to death.”

As Esturias turned away from the condemned men, his face was grim.  He didn’t like condemning men who had probably been tricked or forced into following the dark lords, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter.  As DeAires had told him – other men, his men could fall victim to the AI and endanger the whole fleet.  He nodded to Lantrill, the warrior commander, who responded with a loud, “Fire, men!”  And he winced at the sound of falling bodies on the hard floor.

Esturias left the hangar bay, leaving the instructions for the deceased prisoners to be placed in caskets and sent into the nearest sun; perhaps they would be reborn free of the impediments taken on by their souls – but that was now out of his hands.  A very subdued DeAires and his Eagle guards followed him, along with the Feline warrior contingent.  DeAires had been cleared by the healers, but he would bear watching to see if his behavior changed in the coming days.  As he watched the procession following the boy, he had an ironic thought:  someone watching this would think the boy was some sort of king rather than a lowly officer – it was obvious that men became extremely protective around him without the boy even noticing.  Odd that… Perhaps as Pleiadians, they sensed the energy of the Mother within him…

Come on, DeAires, we’re heading back to The Golden Bee.  I want you to get some rest.  You’ve been put through the mill today.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied DeAires, his voice sounding rather exhausted.  Esturias thought the boy was looking rather peaky.

One of the Eagles spoke up, “We’ll take care of him, sir – we’re used to nursing him after all.”

Esturias looked rather amused to hear a huge Eagle admit that he acted as a nursemaid for a full-grown man… but then there were extenuating circumstances, weren’t there.  He was going to have a long discussion with his Father when he managed to take some leave home…

DeAires managed to walk back to the airlock that attached The Golden Bee to the mothership, just stumbling once or twice and recovering with Garry’s support.  When he got to his quarters, he collapsed on his sleeping pad and went right to sleep, sprawled out in his uniform.  When Tomás entered the room and looked in askance at Earl and Garry, the latter shrugged, “He had a run-in with a dark lord this afternoon.  Looks like all that martial training you gave him finally paid off – “

Earl nodded, conveying the scene in private telepathic mode.  Tomás was astonished… that Cmdr. Esturias would endanger his friend’s life in such a manner… and that DeAires had managed to free himself for the first time in his short life.  It was another stepping stone to healing the deep wounds of the past, but he would have to keep a better eye on the youngster after this.

After a moment’s thought, he cautioned, “Look, lads, be careful how you mention this to Kantor.  He’s come close to losing this brother of his four times this life…”

The two Eagles nodded and continued looking down at the sleeping Raphael.  For now, he would stay out of trouble… at least if he didn’t have any of those dreams of his… and who knew.  Life with Raphael was never dull for long.

© All Rights Reserved, Eliza Ayres, http://www.bluedragonjournal.com

No reprints of this article are allowed in magazines or journals without the express written permission of the author.  No videos or recordings are permitted.

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

Ships

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, Eliza Ayres, and link back to the original page and content on www.bluedragonjournal.com

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 7: “Confrontation”

violetfire

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia:  Remembrance, Part 7, “Confrontation”

Editor’s Note:  The Sirian people are telepathic.  I am attempting to convey their “speech” through the use of italics.  They actually use more in the way of concepts and visions, but for our slower minds here words will have to suffice…

The young second commander looked at the stern pale angular features of Lord Delos’ countenance with some concern.  He had known the head commander for some time, and had known of him for longer, the brilliant tactician and strategist, his uncanny way of knowing exactly where they would find the enemy ships; yet he knew better than to idolize his complex self-contained superior.  Still, something was off…he actually feared for his commander’s sanity as he quietly observed the head commander sitting on a bench staring at the floor and lost in thought.  He…he was so somewhere else

Jon? His commander’s deep telepathic voice resonated through his mental body.  It was the quality of the voice and presence that defined Lord Delos from every other member of the large crew.

Aye, sir? The second commander waited patiently until the other man’s attention returned to the room around him from wherever or whenever he had been in meditation.

Then he braced his legs to steady his body as the head commander’s orders flowed like a great overpowering river through his mind.  What?  Why?  Where?  He shook his head at the audacity of the plans.  You want me to take command, sir?

Yes!

Where will you be, sir?

Commander deAir, I will be the bait!

Sir!

Then young deAir stepped back involuntarily as Lord Delos looked up, two intense green eyes fixed on him intently.  There was a steel will behind that quiet set face.  Jon could feel it.  There wasn’t time to argue; the fleet was approaching the disputed edge of Sirian space.

You are well-trained, Jon.  You’ll know what to do!  There was a pause as the head commander looked down at his slender hands.  His long white fingers were gripped together tightly.  Lord Delos slowly pulled his hands apart and shook them gently.  Guess I’m a little tense!

A little tense, thought Jon, carefully blocking his mind to the Head Commander.  Ah… I would be too if I were going where he was…

Jon?

The young commander almost blushed, but he was too well-trained…trained by the very man who was now standing up and moving across the council room towards him.  He stood at attention, hoping his nervousness didn’t show up on his pale face.  Lord Delos merely nodded at him, gave him a penetrating look, reminding Jon of the eyes of a mountain eagle his brother had brought home long ago.

Yes, sir!  I will see that your orders are carried out.

Good.  Now I must get ready!

Jon stepped out into the passageway behind Lord Delos.  Sir, what ship do you plan to use?

An ironic smile briefly crossed the stern face.  My brother’s old scout ship will do for this trip.

Jon was appalled, once again.  That old wreck?

Yes, Jon, that old wreck; it will do nicely for this journey.

Jon was embarrassed that his thoughts had leaked out of his highly trained consciousness, but Lord Delos had his ways of deciphering frequencies that still baffled the young man.  He snapped to attention as the lord turned to walk towards his private quarters.

By the way, Commander DeAir, I have been honored to serve with you!

With those last parting words, Jon saluted his head commander’s back, knowing Lord Delos would feel his emotions without any effort.

And I, you, sir!

And the young commander spun quickly on his heels and strode off towards the command deck to convey the wishes…last wishes…of Lord Delos.

Delos entered his apartment.  It was sparsely furnished, just a single bed, a shelf for personal belongings, a small closet, and an extra blue uniform hanging from a hook on one bulkhead.  There were no personal mementos, no photos, and no images of the gods.  There was nothing to indicate that this was the quarters of the head commander.  Delos liked it this way, simple, clean, unadorned.  All that he owned was at home in Sirust.  All that he loved and cherished… was at Home.  Would he ever see it again…and knew the answer.  No.

He sat down on the hard bed.  Long ago, he had learned to sleep anywhere, even on cold, hard ground; the bed didn’t bother him.  If he had needed physical comforts they would have been provided him.  He was letting everything go…

Entering into a deep meditative state, Delos reached out to his Father, Lord Chananda in Sirust, the great capital of Sirius A.  Distance and time made no difference in this in-between place; there was no time or space here.  Father…

I AM Chananda.  What can I do for you, Delos?

Delos felt the comforting Presence of his Father surround him and relaxed slightly.  You know I love you, Father…

Yes…I know what it is you plan to do, Delos.

I knew you would.  I just could not say anything that last day…

Tears began to fall down the pale stern face as his Father’s great love softened his resistance…

You must do what you need to do.  I know you do it for the people, for the survival of our worlds.

Delos paused a moment.  Father, send the Angels to me.  I feel that I will have need of them today…

They will come on the Wings of Eagles, my son.  I love thee!

Some hours later, the preparation was ready.  The slower old scout ship moved out away from the cloaked fleet.  It was headed to an old outpost on a tiny isolated rock of an isle in disputed space.  The only person on the scout ship was Lord Delos.  Commander Jon deAir watched anxiously as the old ship moved across the dark depths of space.  And then there were explosions of light as an entire flotilla arrived simultaneously out of hyperspace to surround the aging vessel!  Jon’s jaw dropped in astonishment, and then he pulled himself together.  It was time for action!

Uncloak and attack, all ships!  Uncloak and attack!

It was a complete surprise as the Sirian fleet attacked the enemy for Lord Delos had seen to it that every ship in the Sirian fleet was updated with the latest cloaking devices from the Pleiadians and the Ashtarian fleets.  All except the old scout ship, that is…

The Sirian fleet had surrounded the area of the old outpost and immediately proceeded to burn their way into the opposing vessels with laze guns and cannons.  It didn’t take long until the dark sea of space was glinting with burning hulls of enemy ships floating aimlessly around.  It had been a complete rout!  And the Sirian fleet had only lost a few men, fewer wounded…except?

The crew on the command deck shouted aloud in triumph.  The uproar silenced when the commander stepped forward to the scanning station, signaling for quiet.  Where is the scout vessel?

Everyone knew he was really wondering, Where is Lord Delos?

Sir!  There it is!  The scanning tech zoomed into the viewer bringing an image onto the large screen in front of the command deck.  The scout vessel was listing.  There was a great hole in its outer hull.

Any life signs?

The medical monitor looked up from his instruments and shook his head. No, sir…sorry, sir!

Commander deAir straightened up, his jaw tightening even as he felt tears starting up.  For the first time, he felt the weight of command heavy on his shoulders.  It would be his duty to report to the Head Commander’s family, Lord Chananda and his son, Aman Kumara.

It was a victory, a great victory, sir!

Commander deAir looked at the man who had spoken up with a hard glance.  We lost a great man here today.  Never forget it!

He turned away and strode out of the command deck.  Let the Fleet know we’re going Home!

A couple of days later, the Commander found himself standing in a lovely private garden taking tea with Lord Delos’ father, Lord Chananda.  Jon found the older man quite imposing despite his slender build and quiet demeanor.  He sensed a powerful Presence behind the physical façade of the lord.

How did it happen, Jon?  Lord Chananda was casual in his address; he had known Jon for all of his life and was quite determined to put the man at ease.

He set a trap, my lord, and…and he was the bait.  He knew they would come if he was alone.  And they did.  They could not resist getting their collective dirty hands on…

Jon clenched his fists trying to control the emotions that were fighting to the surface.

Lord Delos loved you like a son, you know.  The soft inner voice cracked his disciplined shell; Jon sunk to one of the benches, tears flowing down his angular cheeks.

Why did he do it, my lord?

The answer surprised Jon.  To give us time…

Time?  Jon looked up at Lord Chananda with a mixture of emotions crowding his features, disbelief, grief, and a touch of anger?

Yes, Jon…time.   Lord Chananda got up and began to stride around the garden.  You will see…it’s in the planning stages.

Planning…?

Jon, you’re tired.  The older man strode up to Jon and shook his shoulder lightly.  Go home now…to your mate and children.  You haven’t seen them yet, have you?

No…I wanted to speak to you first.

Lord Chananda nodded and with a wave dismissed the commander out of the garden.  Go home!

As the commander entered the portico to find his way through the huge mansion to the entry hall, he nearly ran into Aman…the priest son of the Commander.  Aman.

Commander deAir.

Jon could sense a deep underlying current of mixed emotions in this man; like himself, the son could not understand the why of his father’s death…what he thought was a needless death.

Aman… The other man turned and stared at the commander, his mind clearly preoccupied with other matters.  Jon surged on… If it will help, the Commander…Lord Delos knew that the enemy was massing a great fleet on the borders of our space.  They were planning a huge attack, even on this city…

How did he know?  The priest’s finely boned aristocratic face was frozen with shock.

Jon shrugged.  He had his ways.  He just knew…

With that terse reply, Jon snapped a salute and marched out of the front door passing a startled guard.  He was glad to leave that house of mourning.  He felt the priest staring after him, but he didn’t look back.  Aman may have been Lord Delos’ son, but he didn’t know his father well.  And now he would never know him.

Less than a month later, Jon stood among the crowd who had come to gather to watch the latest series of suttee, widows all, who following the ancient custom of Sirius, were now to walk voluntarily into the pyre fires of their husbands.  There were five pyres lined up in the great park at the edge of the city.  It was a sad place, a place of sorrow today for one of the great women of the city was to take her last walk, the Lady Anya, wife of Commander Delos.

When Anya appeared in the break in the tightly packed crowd there was a distinct hush.  Jon looked around; all eyes were fixed on the tall slender figure dressed in a simple white saree.  There were no jewels bedecking her body, only a wreath of flowers around her neck.  Her pale blonde hair hung loosely down below her narrow hips.  She was like a virgin coming to a sacrifice…but she was not a virgin or a sacrifice.  She was fulfilling her duty after a month of preparation, fasting, and prayer.  She was already not of this world… Jon sensed the same determination and strength of will that he had witnessed in Lord Delos.  She climbed up the steps to her pyre and sat down on the bench provided there.  Her face was quiet, set, silent.  She stared out over the crowd, her eyes seemingly fixed on something they could not see.  The priests approached each of the pyres, holding up in their right hands a flaming torch.  Anya ignored them.  The fire started up, catching fast in the dry wood.  Her clothes were soon alight, but still Anya did not move.  She went to her death as Delos did to his, without fear.

Jon thought, they were a good match, this Anya and Delos, a good match, indeed.  For a moment he wondered where Delos was now…for he knew that such a man, such a courageous man would be born again…but where?

The priestesses began to sing hymns of prayer, redemption, forgiveness, and eternal love for the Creator as the five figures disappeared into the smoke and fire.  The people sighed.  They knew that these five would be reborn, again, but what would happen to those who did not return from battle?  There were no answers today.  The crowd began to break up and return to work or home.

And so it is done.  Jon strode away, heading towards his home where his children and his mate were waiting.  Life continued and he knew that he would meet Lord Delos someday, perhaps in another place, another time, but they would meet.

Where was Delos?  Well, I will end this part now.  Many of you who have been reading along already know that answer, Arcturus.

Peace to all,

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

P.S.  For anyone finding issue with the practice of suttee, the immolation of widows, please read part 5 of this Remembrance series.  Part 5 addresses the ancient Sirian culture and many of its customs.

© All Rights Reserved, 2012-19.  No videos or recordings are allowed.  No use of this material in articles or published material without express written permission of the author is allowed.  If reposting, acknowledge the author, Eliza Ayres, and link back to the original page and content on www.bluedragonjournal.com

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia: Remembrance, Part 6, “Sacrifice”

Pleiades

Artist Unknown.

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia:  Remembrance, Part 6 – “Sacrifice”

The tall, slender young man strode defiantly into the garden where his Grandfather was waiting for him.  Lord Chananda ignored him for a moment, instead, he conveyed all his attention on the colorful male peacock that was strutting against the white wall of the enclosed private garden.  What a beautiful creature, he thought.  Which one? came an internal query.  A secret smile crept across the older man’s strongly defined features.  Then he turned and surveyed the young man from head to toe, the guarded mouth, the tension in his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders.  Lord Chananda shrugged and then let out a sigh, thinking, “So like his father…”

The grandson, Aman, stood quietly as his grandfather’s light green eyes passed over him.  Yes, he was angry, upset, confused… his father had just committed a dangerous act of entering enemy territory with a small fleet of ships.  And his inner awareness could no longer feel his presence in his mind, where he had always been since the time of Aman’s birth.

“Aman!” The resonant telepathic voice was like a whip hitting him, even as a wash of warm loving energy stole over his body.  The young man straightened his long tunic and repositioned the shawl that was draped casually over his shoulder.  He missed his priestly robes, but the summons from his grandfather seemed urgent.  He pulled at one gold earring, wondering at his own nervousness.  He knew that somehow his life was about to change…

“Sir,” replied the young man, slightly hesitant.  Then he blurted out, “My father…!”

“Yes, Aman…your father.”

“What happened?”

The tall lord hesitated for a moment and then said quietly, “Your father is dead in battle.”

You could not feel his passing? The internal query shook him to his core

Despite his anger and upset towards his strong-willed father, his son staggered with the shock of the bald statement from his serene grandfather.  Lord Chananda stood quietly waiting for Aman to recover.  It took a while as, despite their differences, son and father loved each other deeply.  Finally, Aman straightened up, again, and looked into the pale green eyes of the older man.

“What does this mean?”

The reply was a rebuff, swift and harsh, “Your mother…” There was a brief pause.

“…must enter the funeral pyre after a suitable time of preparation and prayer.” The young man was as pale as the white sash about his waist.

Lord Chananda nodded, “You of all people should know our custom.”

“Yes…yes…of course.”  Aman nodded slowly, his eyes blurred with tears.  When were these wars and battles going to ever end?  Many of his friends and companions from school had already perished in battle, their mates releasing their lives within the funeral fires.  “I will send a priestess to prepare her.”

Lord Chananda waved his hand in dismissal, “There is no need.  I have sent for her.  And she already knows.”

“Where is he…?”

“He died in space.  He will not be returning to us…”

For those readers who are not aware of the Sirian beliefs on reincarnation, it was felt that a soul would be reborn on the planet of their birth if and only if s/he died within the atmosphere of the isle.  Since Aman’s father had died in space, it could not yet be determined where his soul would choose next to reincarnate.  He would not be returning to Sirius. 

The Sirians regard the physical vessel as a temporary vehicle.  They are quite aware of the journeys that some souls take as they climb the ladder of soul evolution.  Some souls move at a slower pace; some move like a wildfire.  Aman’s father was one of the latter.

Aman stared at his grandfather, a man whom he regarded as a kind, gentle, sometimes distant person given his vast age and experience.  His grandfather’s face was quiet and serene, as usual, but Aman could feel the grief within.  However, Lord Chananda was not given to sharing his thoughts or emotions with his grandson.  The great lord had lived long enough to see many sons die young and many daughters go into the fires; Aman’s father was but one of the latest, but… there was nobody to retrieve.  He was lost in space.

“Aman, you will retire from the priesthood and find a mate!” The quiet order from his grandfather startled Aman, but he knew enough not to argue.  An order from his grandfather was due to an instruction directly from Source.  As a man of his House, Aman, too, knew his duty.  Too many young men and women had died due to the wars, especially from the higher castes that produced most of the warriors and commanders.

It was with a shiver that Aman realized that he was now the head of his House, after his Grandfather and Great Grandfather, Lord Krishna.

Lord Chananda spoke up again, disturbing the young man’s whirling thoughts, “What woman will you select as your mate?”

“Ananda Devi Kavioush,” blurted out the startled young man.  He blushed and then realized that his parents, Lord Delos and Lady Anya had hoped that the young Ananda would be his mate.  She was of high birth, being the daughter of a cousin to the mother of the present Lord Kavioush, ruler of Sirust.  He remembered with a shiver the sight of her thick white blonde hair hanging down below her waist when they used to play with the other children, the flicker of a smile across her sweet face, the long dark lashes hiding her deep green eyes.  Then he realized, with some irony, how his wily father had trapped him into fulfilling his parent’s greatest wish, to see their child happily mated and settled.  Then he remembered, “Ananda… she is a priestess.”

The older man smiled briefly, “That is of no matter; she has been freed of her vows, as well.”

Aman could hear his father chuckle in his head.  Was he really gone?  The wily warrior had won another battle.  He knew…he knew!

Lord Chananda watched his grandson leave the garden and enter the passageway to the rooms that were kept for him when he visited the mansion.  He would have to remind the housekeeper to arrange for the young man’s belonging to be moved to other quarters, suitable for his new rank.  And then he smiled gently, feeling the awareness of this indefatigable woman as she acknowledged his request…as already being done.

Dropping into deep meditation as he sat on the cool stone bench, he stretched out his vast causal body in search for the consciousness of his son.  There…a bright light beyond the stars… our stars, on the edge of Sirian space.  There was debris floating through the dark spaces, the remnants of a great battle.  What had happened here?  And then, reaching out, again… he felt the withdrawal…no, the protecting mantle of another great Being, Beings…surrounding the life essence of his son’s light body.  Where? He queried the silent Presences.  Arcturus…they replied, for healing.  Silently within, he nodded, understanding.  And someday, he knew he would again meet the one who had been a beloved, brilliant, and at times difficult son.  And he knew to the core of his being that this one would be very changed in appearance and no longer Sirian…

Two months after the death in battle of his father Lord Delos and one month after the death of his beautiful mother, Lady Anya, on the funeral pyre, the young couple Aman and Ananda celebrated their matetation (wedding) according to the ancient customs of Sirust.  Covered with leis of fragrant flowers, bedecked in gold jewelry and pearls, and wearing bright orange and yellow robes, the young couple was paraded through the streets of the great city, past the sprawling mansions and gardens, up the hill to one of the greater Temples.  Despite the depredations and hardships of war, the citizens of Sirust came out to celebrate the beginning of a new life for these two young people…and perhaps a new beginning for their world, as well.

As he stood before the high altar, for a moment Aman felt disoriented as he looked into the familiar face of one of the priests who had instructed him long ago in the sacred rituals.  Then he glanced over at the radiant face of his lovely bride and felt a great peace come over him suddenly like a beautiful blessing.  He knew then that his father and mother approved of the union and were pleased.  With that, he let go of his anger and grief and concentrated on the beautiful ceremony and the life ahead.

Two years later, the young couple was blessed with the birth of twins, one daughter and one son.  As a proud grandfather bent over the cradle holding the newborns, he felt a familiar essence…in fact two familiar essences… one was Tazo reborn.  And no, the daughter was not Delos… for he was somewhere else altogether…

Thus ends this part of my Remembrances series.  As one might wonder how I’m going to tackle the next part, the battle between the Belials and the Sirian fleet.  I’m not a military tactician in this life or a professional writer…or for that matter, even a male.  How will I know what Delos is thinking and feeling?  We’ll see… in the next part of this shaggy dog story.  I will say this… writing is an excellent way for me, at any rate, to process these memories and glimpses into a whole different world and time.  I cannot guarantee the accuracy of my record put down here as it is just impressions of a place and people who are very different, yet similar to us at the same time.  Life and the celebration of life, the joy it can bring despite any hardships is enough to keep me going through everything that is presented to me, here and at Home, for I AM one who lives in two worlds at once.

Peace to all,

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

© All Rights Reserved, Elizabeth Ayres Escher, www.bluedragonjournal.com   Making videos or recording of this written material is NOT permitted.

 

 

 

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 5: “The Sirian Culture”

Lord Krishna

A depiction of Lord Krishna from Indian art.

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 5:  The Sirian Culture

Inevitably, when telling a true story of Sirius there will be a reader or two who questions the narrative, as well as the customs of this ancient culture.  As a Pleiadian, I have been fortunate to be a personal friend of several Sirians, some to whom I am distantly related through the Kumara lineage.  I have also had many conversations with Princess Trillia Gia and her walk-in replacement, my own sister, RaNia VaCoupe.  These conversations have given me an insight into the Sirian culture that is virtually near to being impossible if you do not know a living Sirian.  The channeled material is frequently quite wrong, filtered as it is through the heavily programmed consciousness of an Earth human.  Although I cannot say that my memory here in this vehicle is crystal-clear, I am constantly being updated and aided by my mentors and kin at Home.

This story or series of stories of mine is taking on a life of its own, so I am endeavoring to keep each section short, understanding that human attention span is somewhat limited these days (smile).

Understand that the Sirian culture was zillions (yes, zillions) of years old before records were kept and its historical records go back for millions of years further than that (which is known) of Earth.  We will share more of the words of Princess Trillia to edify those reading (you can find these teachings on Trillia’s website, www.thestarseedhighway.com):

“Sirians of the higher castes who reside on Sirius A always have very white skin with white blonde hair. It is said that our complexions are so white as to shine of a soft blue. Our eyes are always a bright light green color when of pure blood, with the exception of Lord Krishna who has large bright blue eyes. All have lined eyes as our tradition. Married women all tie their hair up and dress in a style similar to a saree. The men have white blonde hair worn loose to their shoulders and often ring their earlobes with golden earrings. The men of the city wear loose fitting pants with a shirt usually worn open with a long scarf or shawl of a different color draped over their shoulder. Most Sirians are 7′ – 8′ tall and slender, never weighing more than 200 lbs. Our gold jewelry and gold braiding denote our wealth.

Our caste system allows Sirians to rotate from one caste to another to appreciate and know all forms of life. No one is ever poor or without as on Earth. Our caste system has always been a part of Sirius. The lower castes choose to live 100 – 500 years while those of upper castes choose to live 500 – 600 years; each year is measured in the thousands of earth years.

As we are you and you are we, we look very similar to many of Earth.  We seeded your land with the life of many forms including dolphins and whales, cats and even butterflies.  Others followed us, such as your other star families from Venus, Lyra, Ashtar, Neptune, Andromeda, Orion, the Pleiades and Arcturus to name but a few.  Does this surprise you to know that we are human as you, yet not of 3D Earth?  You are our family.  On Sirius, we create our children and give birth as you, yet without pain.  To bring forth life is sacred and the highest honor to be parents, whether mother or father.  If you are Pleiadian you create life in another manner, yet this is the story of our lives in Sirius…” To the original page…

Yes, this is a story of one who lived as a high caste male on Sirius A, long ago.  As when reading any story, you need to place yourself in the minds and hearts of the participants, to accept their culture even if you do not understand it.  The Sirian culture is, indeed, extremely old.  They are a deeply spiritual people who are devoted to God.  Although many Earth humans share a common ancestry with those of the Sirian star system, the humans who have grown up on Earth do not have the advantage of knowing where you will be situated in a culture when you are born.  Depending on the caste in which you are born, your entire life is predetermined, who you will mate, where you will live, and how you will work…as well as that touchy subject, how you will die.  Understand that death is only “touchy” or frightening when you do not know that you will be reborn and that you have choices as to when, where, and how.

The ancient caste system of the Hindus is about as close to the ancient Sirian culture as you will find on Earth.  If you are unaware of your own planet’s history, the caste system was outlawed by India upon gaining its independence from Great Britain in 1947.  This is not the case on Sirius.  Many of you who are starseeds and who have long incarnated upon this planet have, perhaps, a fairytale version of what a civilization in the higher worlds should appear.  Remember your saying, “I’m only human!” Well, we are human also and perhaps not as perfect or idealized as you may have imagined or have been told by channelers who have not yet fully cleared their inner vision. We will say that the Sirians love their culture, their world, and their way of life.   Those souls who have incarnated chose those worlds and its culture.  It is what it is.

In particular, the ancient practice of suttee seems to upset those of delicate sensibilities and a lack of awareness of the cultural mores of another people.  In seeking to answer my own questions regarding this ancient custom I asked some pointed questions of my sister, RaNia.  As the placeholder walk-in of the Sirian Princess, Lady Trillia Gia Cavioush, she has a better perspective of this practice than I.  In her words:

“As far as (the practice of) Suttee goes, it is for all people (women) regardless of caste. Only those who are wealthy regardless of caste can afford to become outer Sirians. I know of none who live on Sirius A, Osiris (Sirius B) and Ganta (Sirius C) or any of the smaller isle/moons who dare to not adhere to this agreed upon system-wide tradition.

Before a soul incarnates within any system or upon any isle in general…they review and agree to the established rules or laws. I say in general because when a soul dies within the atmosphere of or upon any isle they are then required to reincarnate there. I guess the gravity or energy field of the isle holds the soul essence magnetically…

Only during the Star Wars were so many young women stepping within the Pyres… The percentage of such was unprecedented.  Before the ending of the wars in the Sirian star system, many priests and priestesses were required by Source to put aside their vows of celibacy and mate so that the population could be reestablished once again.

 The souls who mate it is believed to agree to come together to work as a balanced loving team as such…then to depart together and then return again to re-mate.”

In her last life here, my elder sister Tazjma VaCoupe felt a deep connection to the Hindu culture of this planet.  She did not understand it all, but there were aspects that attracted her like the costumes, music, the gardens, and some of the architecture.  In 2012, near the beginning of starting this blog, she was contacted by a great Being, The Divine Director, whom she understood as a member of the spiritual hierarchy that works with this planet’s evolution.  It was only fairly recently that I learned that the Great Divine Director is from Sirius A.  There he is called Lord Chananda.  He is one of the Sons of Lord Krishna.  He has long worked on the Blue Ray of power, strength, and divine love, primarily with the Divine Blueprint of each soul embodied here.   The Theosophists know the Great Divine Director as Master R, mentor to Saint Germaine, El Morya, and Kuthumi. The Hindu people know and love Lord Chananda as Ganesha, the elephant-headed god of prosperity and joy.  And so he is, a gentle, loving Being whom I am proud to say is one of my many fathers.  And we have spoken together on occasion.  My love for Lord Chananda in no way interferes with that of my tremendous love and respect for my present Pleiadian Father, Lord Zadkiel.

I know that it sounds strange…having a multitude of fathers, but it is a reality for those who live long and are reborn often with the same individuals in our families.  One of my male cousins was an elder brother in my first life as Delos.  Today, he is an archangel.  Back then he was a Sirian warrior, wounded in the Star Wars, and the one who brought up the children of my twin, Tazo, and I.  He was ably assisted by my then younger sister, who, today, is my elder Pleiadian sister, RaNia VaCoupe.  Perhaps now you begin to understand that, in the higher worlds at least, family is always family and greatly cherished.  Such is not the case now on Earth, as many of your familial relationships are karmic in nature.  Until the karma is balanced, the lessons repeat, sometimes with the same individuals, but more often with persons of the same resonance and frequency.  Change your frequency and you will change your life and future timelines.

Ancient cultures are slow to respond to change, but circumstances were forced upon our people and our world during those long years of the galactic wars.  You might understand the attrition rate of the population, for as the warriors fell, their mates took suttee, walking fearlessly into the fires of purification, so that the two souls might meet again in a future life.  I knew my fate.  I did not wish for my wife to suffer, but she also knew her place and her duty and would perform it well.  One does not judge the manner in which we were brought up; one accepts it and embraces it as we honored our God with songs and chants in the ancient temples every week.

Since this explanation of the Sirian culture has taken longer than originally thought, I will continue on with this story of my life as Commander Delos in the next part of these Remembrances.

Peace to all,

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

© All Rights Reserved, Eliza Ayres, www.bluedragonjournal.com

Recordings and videos of this written material are NOT permitted.

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia: Remembrance, Part 4: “Departure”

sirian star ship

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia:  Remembrance, Part 4: “Departure”

Understand, dear reader, I am not seeking sympathy or even your empathy in the sharing of these remembrances.  This is simply a process by which I can remember and perhaps help others by sharing my experiences during the ancient Galactic wars.  I have been told by my mentors and my own awareness that many who work alongside President Trump and other “White Hats” are some of those who also fought in these long distant wars.

In this matter, distance does not make the heart grow fonder.  The repressed memories of loss and violation of one’s family, country, and star system go deep.  Anyone of you who have fought in wars during recent times will understand the effect of post-traumatic stress syndrome experienced by those who have been wounded and have watched their comrades die around them.  You wonder why you survived.  You take on a needless sense of blame for an event not of your own making.  And some are driven mad by the atrocities they have witnessed, coming from both sides of the battle.  War is not honorable or decent, but sometimes it needs to be fought to save your own people from extinction or being taken over by a repressive enemy.  It is more difficult for those whose ancient civilization has never needed to fight before, to be suddenly confronted by an aggressive enemy that threatens all that you hold near and dear.  Such was the case of the Sirian people when we were first attacked at the first incursion against our people and star system.  In the years that followed, we became hardened to war, as all of our people endured great hardships and loss of family members.  We were also determined to win ourselves free.  We knew what became of a people who allowed these interlopers to subjugate their people… slavery.  And as devoted followers of the Father God, we did not wish to lose our freedom to live and pray as we wished to… so we chose to fight back.

In the years that followed the death of my brother and the completion of my training under the auspices of the Pleiadian Commander, Lord Lyonell, I had become a tough and canny warrior, succeeding in surprising our enemy many times.  Thanks to my training in the “art” of war, I became hardened to its necessities.  It was only when I visited my Father, Lord Chananda, when he took me aside to visit the grave of my brother, Tazo, that I allowed any emotion to overtake me.  I made that pilgrimage every year on the day when my brother and his ship were shot down.  Tazo died.  I didn’t.  I was far away and couldn’t save him.  Any soldier would tell you that I was suffering from survivor’s guilt and they would be right… but we were too busy fighting to pause to think and consider what this seemingly endless war cost us personally and as a people.

One day my Father took me aside.  I was on a well-needed break between campaigns to drive the enemy out of Sirian space.  As I gazed upon my Father’s serene face, I knew that he had something of great significance to tell me.  We were standing in a quiet garden, filled with the blossoms of pear trees and wisteria.  I realized that spring had arrived and that I had been too preoccupied to see it, so much had I changed from the little boy who used to play in this same garden with his younger brother.  I blinked back tears and concentrated on my Father’s compassionate sea-green eyes.

“You still miss him, don’t you?” came my Father’s soft voice.

“Yes…and the others who have been lost to us,” I added, choking down my emotions.

It may surprise some to know that at this moment it had been 300 years since my brother had died.  I was a man full-grown, with a son and daughter of my own.  Due to our war status, Tazo had decided not to take a mate until after his 125th birthday.  He died at 118 years.  Depending on our caste, status, and life plan, our people lived typically from 300 to 700 years of age.  Few made it to old age in these days, but I managed to preserve the family line in the person of my son.  My Father was ageless, extremely long-lived, but such were the Sons of Krishna, of a high spiritual evolution.  I was honored to be his son, but personally felt I fell short of his high ideals and dedication to the service and the people.

“Delos… your mind wanders…” Father’s deep resonant voice broke through my thoughts, once again.

Again I looked into those sea-green eyes, “What is it, my Father?”

Lord Chananda smiled, startling me a bit. I stared at him closely.  Yes, I detected a faint smile on his full crimson lips.  “My son, we have discovered a way to protect our world.”

“How is that so?” I queried.

The tall lord smiled, again, a bit wider…”It was from your own son that this idea was conceived.”

Delos thought, “Ah, my son… the priest.”

The green eyes twinkled as my Father looked at me.  “Yes, the priest… who may have found a way to protect our world…forever!”

“How so?” Okay, now I was curious.  I had not seen my son for years.  He spent most of his time in the great Temple that stood at the highest point of our great city, Sirust.  This was the Temple dedicated to Lord Krishna, Son of Vishnu, and our great religious leader of our people.

For those of you with little or no awareness of Sirius A or our capital city, Sirust, I give you the words of one of our more recently incarnated daughters, the Princess Trillia Gia Cavioush:

“The largest city on Sirius is called Sirust. If you would combine New York City with Paris and add Los Angeles and Mexico City you would come close to the size of our city. It is approximately 1000 miles wide. Most of our land is tropical and at times feels hot and sticky. Yet there is a section where the grains, vegetables, and our fruits are grown that has a cold winter with strong winds. Some of the plants we seeded upon your land are wisteria, lilies, daffodils and citrus fruits. We also brought to Earth our falcons and peacocks.

The geography of our isle is one of the soft rolling hills in the farm areas and our largest city Sirust sits along a large ocean where we harvest seaweed and fish such as herring and what you call shrimp. All of our temples are built atop our holy hillsides with Lord Krishna’s temple upon the tallest. We have our gold mines on the other side of our isle. We eat a diet of fish grown in fish farms along the coast of the seas as well as raw sushi. We enjoy greens and kelp, citrus fruits, spicy vegetables, rice and rice noodles, puddings and many enjoyable liquids.” https://thestarseedhighway.com/sirius/

Ah, dear reader, you may wonder at how I can wander to and fro along the timeline of my lives…it is easy.  Just look into the center of your being and discover there your own personal copy of the Akash, an electronic record of all thoughts, deeds, hopes, past, and future that exist in the eternal Now of Creation.

I backed away from Lord Chananda and wearily asked him, point-blank, “How can we protect our people from these enemies of ours?”

The tall lord stepped away from his son’s side and pulled down a branch of a blooming tree so he might smell the flowers.  “We will think a forcefield into being, as a collective.”

I was astonished at his answer.  It was true; our people were powerful psychics, but to collectively bring such a forcefield into being?  I could not fathom it but felt my Father’s sincerity and belief that it could be achieved.  I was dumbfounded, speechless.

For a moment, I pulled at a wisp of wisteria bloom that dangled in front of my eyes, staring blindly out at the garden I no longer saw in front of me…only seeing the countless dead who had died as a result of the attacks of a relentless enemy.  I was appalled at what I regarded to be pure foolishness.  At that moment, I had even lost faith in my beloved Father, who had ever been the source of wisdom and comfort for me, especially after the loss of my brother and the death of my mother a year later.  My heart felt cold, removed… distant.

My voice…my telepathic voice…was cold and distant as I spoke to my Father.  “I must leave now and say goodbye to my mate, who awaits me in our quarters.”  I bowed abruptly, turned and nearly ran from the garden.

Before I reached our rooms, I slowed down, thinking…”I should go and apologize to my father.”

Still, I continued on, soon reaching the rooms I shared with my mate, where we had raised our two children during the times when I was home between campaigns and battles.

My mate stood there quietly.  Her long white-blonde hair was gathered up into a casual chignon, with a light tumble of curls resting on one shoulder.  She was dressed in a simple long dress, with a minimum of jewelry, and her gold earrings dangling beneath her fine light hair.

She intuitively knew my different moods and so she spoke softly now.  “You are leaving, again, my love?”

“Yes, my love,” I replied, tenderly, wondering at the sensitivity of this lovely woman who had shared my life for so many years.  I traced her strong cheekbone with a forefinger.  “We have had reports of enemy ships near our outer defenses.  Since I am the Commander of the Fleet, I must go out myself and investigate.”

Another pair of green eyes gazed intently into mine, bringing up the memory of my recent encounter with my Father.  My mate, Anya, caught my thought… “You saw your Father?”

“Yes.” She knew from my tone that the subject was closed for now, but still, she ventured a question, “Did he tell you of our plan?”

I stared at her somewhat sharply.  She started back and then regained her composure.  Anya had been brought up with the most exquisite of manners.

“Ah,” was all she said. She understood that I did not approve, but then she would.  She knew me well.

“When do you leave?” she asked, changing the subject.

I replied, “Tomorrow morning.”  I continued on relentlessly, “The Golden Lily is returning from its latest cruise to Sirius B and C.  They’re going to pick me up by shuttle at the starbase outside of Sirust.”

Anya nodded, her delicate face subdued.  I knew that she suffered whenever I was gone long and for that I was sorry, but I was a warrior and knew my duty.  Or at least I thought I knew it… As a high caste Sirian woman, Anya also knew her duty.  I was sorry for what she was about to go through, but I knew that she would do so with all the grace and dedication to our customs that she could muster.

What I did not tell my relatives, what I could not tell them were my plans for an all-out offensive against our enemy.  The plan was to remove their presence from our star system forever.  I knew I was going into battle, yet I hesitated to share the knowledge that I would not be returning, ever again to these people I loved.  I was going to my death.

Thus we come to the end of this part of my remembrances.  There is more to come…

Once I was a Sirian warrior; today I am a Pleiadian woman, a crew member on a great Pleiadian flagship.  No, I am not allowed out on the many ships that patrol your space.  Nor do I engage the “enemy” in battle.  Given my past lives, these things are forbidden me by our Head Commander and my uncle, Lord Adrigon VaCoupe.

Now, I endeavor to clear those memories of the ancient wars from my Light Body so I may continue on with my soul evolution and serve my chosen people with an even greater capacity for devotion and dedication.  So life continues… and so our lives touch those whose essences were a part of our own long ago.

Peace to all,

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

© All Rights Reserved, Eliza Ayres, www.bluedragonjournal.com

Permission is NOT granted to make videos or recordings of this material.

 

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia: Remembrance – Part 3: “Tazo”

Multigenerational Interstellar City Ship

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia:  Remembrance – Part 3:  “Tazo”

Despite what many of you believe or think you believe, understand that even in the higher realms, we are not perfect.  We are always endeavoring to discover new ways to serve our family, our home, our people, the Command, and all Life.  Just because you reach the fifth dimension with your personal frequency, it does not automatically translate that you no longer have more soul growth ahead of you.  Evolution is never over as the Creator is always exploring and experiencing the Universes through us, its fractals as have been sent forth from Source.  It is arrogant and terribly ignorant of one to claim that they are done with their spiritual evolution for it denotes a spirit of rebellion and separation from Source energy.

Born to a family of Pleiadian Angelics, I am striving to bring into balance my own inner divine masculine and feminine energies, in the same manner as are many awakened lightworkers on Earth today.  Although I naturally resonate and live in 6D to 7D, I live and function in 5D along with the rest of the crew members of The White Winds.  And with this small portion of my consciousness now residing in this 3D Earth human vehicle, I am attempting to confront, sort through, transmute and release those memories most traumatic to me during the ancient Galactic Wars.

As with my predecessor in this vehicle, my elder sister Tazjma Amariah Kumara VaCoupe, many of my lifetimes within this quadrant of Creation have been as a male, if you will, an alpha male, a natural born warrior and protector.  Part of my purpose in coming here, as I have stated above, is to discard of what I no longer need (the pain, guilt, blame, etc.) and to embrace that which is of benefit to me (love, compassion, wisdom, tenderness, devotion).  Coming into balance is not an easy proposition for one who has stood face to face with the enemy more than once, even if the confrontation took place on a viewing screen of a command deck.  One needs to release the anger, fear, blame, and shame that linger within a survivor who has witnessed the death of many, including family members… especially family members.

Now we come to a tough spot for me to look at once again.  I will write this part of my tale in story form which allows me to move through the events more dispassionately…

The young Sirian commander was in the process of pondering a puzzle put forth by his mentor.  For a moment he allowed his gaze to fall upon his companion.  As a Sirian lord, he had seen many of the Sirian feline species as they visited the palace of his grandfather, Lord Krishna.  He was fond of these people… for him and his people considered the feline species as humanoid and hence by definition “humans”.  They were very tall, walked upright and were very highly intelligent, strong, dedicated Sirians.  The leonine people especially were utilized often as guards for the temples and the palaces of the great although the Sirians did not fear violence from their own people.

However, this adopted Pleiadian who now stood nearby, gazing out a window into the dark skies beyond, was different.  Commander Lyonell had taken the entire Pleiadian fleet under his spell through his dominating personality, commanding wit and intelligence.  His psychic abilities were extraordinary.  His memory was astounding.  His entire being exuded tremendous power and ability, and yet, there were moments of extreme tenderness and concern where the Commander reached out to aid and comfort a crew member when they learned of a death in their family or an incident on their homeworld.  The man was not without a deep and abiding sense of compassion for all who came within his sphere of influence.  And so it was when the young Sirian gasped in surprise and grief, the Commander moved quickly with his characteristic feline grace to the man’s side.

“What is wrong, Commander Delos?” It was months since Delos had arrived on the Pleiadian ship, The Golden Falcon, for training alongside Commander Lyonell, but the Pleiadian commander retained his formality when it was required.

The commander’s great golden eyes studied his Sirian companion.  The young man… young in terms of Sirian years… was tall and slender.  His pale skin was blanched, his green eyes bright with tears and shock.  He whispered, his voice taut and strained with emotion, “Tazo… my brother… his ship is under attack!”

“What do you see?” asked Commander Lyonell.  The Pleiadian commander knew of the Sirian’s deep connection with his family, especially his younger brother.  Apparently, they had spent many lifetimes together, often as twins.  In this life, Delos was the elder, their ages separated by some five years.  Still, the soul connection ran deep and powerful between the two siblings.

“I…I…, “ Delos blinked, again, tears splashing down his cheeks unheeded.  He looked within and saw…

The ship was jolted by another barrage, sending debris everywhere.  It was hard to see through the dust and confusion.  Tazo grabbed onto a railing to pull himself upright and was thrown again against the bulkhead.  His ears were streaming blood from the impact.  As he stumbled down the passageway, he bumped into another crew member. “Carlos? Are you okay?”

Carlos looked up at his commander, and then looked down towards the command deck a short distance away.  “The ship is going down?”

Tazo nodded abruptly and turned back to his command post, striving to steady himself on nearby stations.  The view monitors were no longer functioning, but the trajectory of the ship was obvious; they were about to crash into the isle below. 

He scanned the isle with his extended senses.  It was only lightly populated, a moon actually on the outer fringes of the Sirian star system.  He could sense the ships that were attacking his vessel coming in for the kill.  No!  He would land this ship if it took all he had within.  Telepathically he connected with the Command Mothership, the Golden Lily, “Comrades, we are under attack!  We are now entering the atmosphere of J___ a moon of Satus.”

The reply came swiftly, “Commander Tazo, we are aware of your situation.  An attack squadron is on the way!”

As Tazo turned his attention to the navigation post, he felt his brother tuning into the situation.  “Brother…”

Tazo felt Delos nod as their minds melded in their own unique way.  He felt his brother’s strength and determination flow into his bruised body.  He focused on the controls in front of him and took control of the faltering vessel, bringing her back into alignment.  He knew that damaged as she was, they could not escape via hyperspace and needed to land on the moon.  Whether or not any of his crew would survive depending on how quickly help arrived.  The ship was too damaged to go far.

The ship shuddered as yet another barrage struck the outer hull.  Tazo began to cough.  He sniffed the air and scanned the ship.  Fire!  He attempted to contact other surviving crew members.  One familiar mind contacted with his own, “Jon, there is a fire on board!”

“I know, sir,” replied Jon, one of the navigation staff.  “It’s in the engines, sir!” 

Unlike the more sophisticated Pleiadian vessels who utilized crystalline energy, some of the smaller Sirian ships still required fuels.  This scout vessel was such a one, not outfitted for long distance travel outside the star system.  The Sirian fleet was in the process of building ships similar to the Pleiadian design, but that took time, manpower, and many credits.  Under attack from many sides by the enemy, the Sirians could ill afford to lose even this small vessel.

“Take care of it, Jon!” Tazo ordered telepathically, knowing his loyal crew member would do what he asked.  He felt the assurance and determination as the crew member went off to gather others to repair the ship’s engine array.

Tazo gritted his teeth and concentrated on the controls.  As he passed his hand above them, the dials glowed.  With his strong mind, he guided the vessel towards a likely landing spot on the surface of the moon.  Fortunately for the Sirians and their ship, the moon was primarily an agricultural isle, mostly flat or gently rolling country broken up by low fences or scattered farm family compounds.  Dividing his consciousness between the rapidly approaching planet surface and the controls, he guided the ship towards a landing spot.

Just before the ship landed, it shuddered once again.  This time the blow sent the vessel into a spin.  Tazo was thrown against the bulkhead.  Dazed he tried to concentrate on the task when the vessel came to an abrupt halt on its side.  Tazo crawled to his feet.  The smoke from the fire was stronger now.  He sent an order to evacuate the vessel, “Now!”

As Tazo and a few other men stumbled out the landing ramp, they came under fire from an enemy vessel that was above strafing the ground around the vessel.  As he glanced up, Tazo felt something strike his leg, sending him crashing to the ground.  Smoke billowed out of the Sirian vessel.  The men needed to get clear, but the attack drove them closer to the wounded vessel as they sought cover.  Tazo was now coughing hard.  He covered his mouth with his hand only to pull it away in dismay.  His hand was covered with blood.  It was internal bleeding from some wound that he had not even registered in the flight.  He swayed and then pulled himself upward as another crew member reached out to support his weight. 

A sudden piercing mind scream crashed through his sensitive consciousness and he managed to peer skyward.  A dazzling light broke through the dusty atmosphere and hit the attacking enemy ship.  Help had arrived!  The drone of other Sirian ships began to fill his ears.  His men were going to be safe!

Tazo crumpled to the ground, exhausted, bleeding from internal injuries and coughing from heavy smoke inhalation.  Just as another Sirian ship landed beside his wounded vessel, he fell into a coma.  He died later of his wounds.  His men and his family grieved for this loss.  His brother, so far away from home, grieved also.

Commander Delos broke off contact with his dying brother.  He cried out silently, “Father!”

“I AM Chananda.  My son… you know?”  Delos felt the presence of his great Father surrounding him with a blanket of warm love and concern.

“Yes, I saw everything…”

“Ah… of course you would.  The binding ties of love are strong between the two of you.”

“Yes!”

Delos felt another presence intrude into his inner dialogue, “What has happened, Commander Delos?”

The Sirian looked around in confusion for a second or two and then regained his composure.  He nodded to the Pleiadian Commander, “Lord Lyonell, my brother has been wounded in battle.”

Lyonell’s golden eyes rested upon his Sirian companion with compassion.  “Is he gravely wounded?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the younger man. “He is dying.  They are taking him home to Sirust even now.”

Lyonell rested his heavy paw-like hand upon the Sirian’s slender shoulder, “Then you will be going home now?”

Delos looked up at the pale violet sky outside the viewing screen with its two pink moons and thought for a moment.  Then he turned to the Pleiadian, shaking his head fiercely, “No, sir… my Father will understand.  I must complete my training here with you.  I will honor my brother later.”

The shrewd golden eyes of the Pleiadian searched the young commander’s pale determined face.  He thought to himself, “Hmmm, our mutual enemy has made a mistake in attacking a member of this young man’s family…”

He was right.

Thus ends the third part of this Remembrance series.

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

© All Rights Reserved.  No recordings or videos of this written material are permitted.  When sharing, include authorship and links to this blog:  Eliza Ayres, http://www.bluedragonjournal.com

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 2 – “Commander Lyonell”

Pleidian Star Chart

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 2:  “Commander Lyonell”

Earlier in the week, I woke up feeling slightly ill.  After waking up a bit, I realized that another chunk of remembrance was about to be downloaded into my consciousness here.  I had already remembered a bit of what was going to be revealed in this second lifetime.  The pictures or memories come at odd times, but mostly when I’m in the presence of my Pleiadian sister, who is another walk-in here on Earth.  Lady Claudine popped in briefly, channeled through my sister, RaNia, to let me know what was coming.  She was very excited that I was near to completing my personal goal of remembering, clearing, and releasing the ancient trauma suffered through the Star Wars.  Then she was off, again, to yet another meeting with one of the High Councils on The White Winds. 

A note to those who may be skeptical of my claims to be this and that… you can think of these stories as a fanciful tale, but I know what and who I AM in Truth.  Life here among the sleepers is odd, indeed.  And even though I have full remembrance “above”, it arrives here to my filtered “human” consciousness in dribs and drabs, and only when I am ready to receive it unconditionally.  This is part of my “mission” here, as well as clearing the remainder of my sister Tazjma’s karma/trauma, for she was also there with me during the Star Wars, as were many of the Pleiadian starseeds presently incarnated upon Earth.  We are here to serve humanity.  We are here out of Love.

First, I remembered my time studying with a great Pleiadian leader, Lord Lyonell.  Lyonell, who was not born a Pleiadian, was king and lord over his own small solar system, a system consisting of five moons and three isles (planets).  When the Belial forces from the lower Orion system began to attack the system, Lord Lyonell appealed to the Pleiadian fleet for protection.  In return, the little system became a part of the greater Pleiadian territory, although Lord Lyonell retained his lordship over his own system.

What was unusual about Lord Lyonell or would seem so to some Earth humans is that he was (and is) a Feline humanoid.  At the time of our meeting, Lord Lyonell was an impressive figure, standing over nine feet tall, his powerful leonine frame towering well over my slender eight feet.  Despite the differences in our physiques, we instantly took to each other and became great friends.

At the time I was the eldest son of Lord Chananda, a great Lord of Sirius A.  My name (as far as I can remember it) was Delos’anda’Ra.  It was my second life in this quadrant as a son of Lord Chananda, who was, in turn, the second son of the religious leader of Sirius A, Lord Krishna.  Lord Chananda was (and is) related to Sanat Kumara, who is the Lord of Venus along with his beloved Divine Complement, Lady Venus.  Lord Chananda has lovingly informed me that we have often shared lifetimes together in another quadrant of creation…

In meeting with Lord Lyonell and training under his direction, I was completing my training to become the Head Commander over the now impressive Sirian Starfleet.  During the intervening years between my previous death and subsequent rebirth, the Sirian fleet had grown in size and strength.  We had learned much from war whether or not we wanted to… for we were determined to survive.

It was from our Pleiadian allies that we learned about Lord Lyonell.  When his solar system entered into the Pleiadian Federation, he requested to be allowed to enter into the Command, as well.  Within a few short years, he proved his value as he began to teach the Pleiadians how to turn the tables on the enemy.  With his natural feline hunting skills and great intelligence, Lord Lyonell taught the Pleiadians the art of space guerilla warfare or how to outflank the enemy.  The Pleiadians no longer merely defended their home territory; they pursued the enemy relentlessly from their skies.  It was still a tough time for the Pleiadians as they had many more isles than we.  Lord Lyonell is honored even today as being instrumental in aiding the Pleiadians in their ultimate defeat of the Belial forces.  We of the higher worlds do not forget.

For a time I spent training under Lord Lyonell and actively participating aboard a Pleiadian ship.  I found the company very refreshing and different from the stricter Sirian protocol, but I never lost sight of what I was trying to accomplish by being there.

From Lord Lyonell I learned techniques of hunting and attacking without being detected by the enemy until the last minute when it was already too late.  It was determined by the Pleiadians that the enemy was determined to destroy their isles by utilizing different tactics.  We had to return in kind while keeping ourselves in alignment with the Laws of the Universe.  We had a duty and right to defend our people and territory, to protect our cultures and way of living.  We had a right to take the war to the enemy, even if that meant taking it to his territory, as well.

Lord Lyonell was magnificent, sharing his stories, and making sure that all of the people under his command were battle-ready, but also healthy and strong.  His generosity with his time and knowledge impressed me, as well as his great wisdom garnered from a long life of leading his own independent people.  His people were admirable, tall, strong, their long, lean bodies covered with short golden fur, covered now by the standard issue Pleiadian silver-colored uniform.  Still, while on board the starships, these feline humanoids preferred to walk barefoot on the deck, despite the cool temperatures of the long passages in the battleship cruisers.

Some of the Pleiadian felines wore tribal markings; beadwork braided through their tawny manes, as well as tattoos on their sculpted angular faces with the distinctive high cheekbones and black-lined golden eyes.  Lord Lyonell wore none of these, only a small badge on the front of his uniform giving his designation as a Commander and a tiny crown indicating his rank on his home isle.  It was enough; we all knew who he was anywhere on board ship; it was enough to listen for his booming voice carrying through the hallways and on the command deck.

Besides battle techniques, Lord Lyonell also augmented my own already considerable abilities to discern energy signatures.  Sometimes we practiced well after quitting hours to allow me time to learn to recognize a different signature and to track down the source.  Even today, in my present lifetime, serving abroad a Pleiadian ship as a native Pleiadian I am utilizing these same skills and more.  As my Father told me once, I brought ALL of my gifts into this lifetime for I knew I would have need of them all.  For those of my readers who might be alarmed with my sharing of this information, know that these gifts are being used “above” on board The White Winds.  There is only about 8 to 10% of my consciousness present in my Earth human vehicle… and I’m officially “off-duty” while here.  Yes, I am psychic.  Yes, I channel a bit, and yes, I am very sensitive to energies.  And that is the extent to which I can claim any special gifts.  Much of what I share comes through as downloads, rather on a “need to know” basis.  As I continue to work on releasing traumatic memories and related physical conditions, I will perhaps learn more.

Dear readers, know that the great one who has reincarnated again within the greater Pleiadian system also sent a fragment of his self here to Earth.  Can you guess who he might be?  Let me know your guess in the comment area below.  I will share his identity later.

This ends the second part of my Remembrance series.

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

© All Rights Reserved.  Recordings and videos of this written material are NOT permitted.  When sharing, please include author and links to this blog:  Eliza Ayres, www.bluedragonjournal.com.

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia: Remembrance

sirian star ship

Sundeelia – Remembrance

Well, I suppose some people are interested in what I have to say about life here on Earth…from the perspective of a Pleiadian angelic.  And there are many who would challenge my assertion that I’m a walk-in rather than an incarnated Earth human.  To the latter, I say, whatever.  Your opinions mean nothing to me.  I know who and what I AM.

Outwardly life has been excessively quiet.  I was involved in a long-term project which has wound down for the time being, but which might spring to life at any moment.  All I can do is be patient.

On the inner clearing level, last Monday I reached another level of remembrance about the ancient galactic wars that some call the Orion Wars or Star Wars.  I now remember my three main lifetimes within that long ago period which echoes across time and space as you, my dear Earth humans, are in the midst of the final cleanup of that same war.  This was verified to me by two great Beings whom I trust and love, Lord Jychrondria and Lady Claudine, both kin from the Pleiades.

For those who are curious, you can access a short excerpt of my first lifetime in my short story, “Star Wars: The Last Patrol”, https://bluedragonjournal.com/sundeelia/sundeelia-star-wars-the-last-patrol/.

Since writing “The Last Patrol”, I have learned more about that life and those who were a part of it.  In fact, I have met and now know of a few people who played important roles in that first lifetime on Sirius A.  One was my mate, another was my sister-in-law, and another was my as yet unborn child, who was posthumously born after my death in space.

To understand the trauma suffered by I and my family members during the initial start of that series of wars, you must come to an understanding of the beyond ancient culture of Sirius A.  For starters, you must understand that certain castes within the Sirian society still practice, to this day, the custom of “suttee”.  The British first encountered this practice in India among high caste Hindu, especially in the Hindu Indian states.  Where did this practice originate?  The Sirian star system.

Long ago, Lord Krishna and his Sirian people colonized the region of India.  The ancient customs of their homeworld became the new customs of this star colony.  The roots of East Indian civilization are very old, indeed.  At one time, most Indians had Sirian ancestry.  Many still do.

Suttee, Sanskrit sati (“good woman” or “chaste wife”), the Indian custom of a wife immolating herself either on the funeral pyre of her dead husband or in some other fashion soon after his death. Although never widely practiced, suttee was the ideal of womanly devotion held by certain Brahman and royal castes. Encyclopedia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/topic/suttee

So… suttee, in India is now a forbidden practice, yet it remains an active practice on Sirius A.  The reason I have been given to understand is that when Sirians are born, they come in knowing their purpose and soul agreements for the present life.  The agreements include who they are to mate.  When the husband dies, whether from an accident, old age or in battle, the wife is expected to step onto the cremation platform and immolate herself.  Apparently, if the woman chooses not to do this, she is, in effect, excommunicated and will probably need to leave Sirius A, as she has questioned ancient practice and custom.  If, however, the woman dies first, the man is not required to commit suttee.  When the male mate dies, the woman’s life is shortened and she will soon fall ill and eventually die in great pain.  It is considered more saintly to step into the fires and prepare to be reborn in a future life.   The Sirians are well aware of reincarnation and the roles that each of us takes in our lifetimes together.

So, perhaps you can guess the fate of my mate?  When my twin and I died in the explosion that destroyed our small starship, both of our mates were required to commit sutee.  This had long been and still is the current practice among high caste Sirians.  What was perhaps worst for my mate was the fact that she was bearing our child, a daughter.  After our daughter was born, my mate entered the fires and died.  The deaths did not end there.  Our family also lost the brother to my mate and her sister, as well as the promised to my younger sister.  Since my sister had not yet mated, she was spared the ordeal of suttee, but she also decided never to marry.  Instead, she dedicated her life to bringing up the daughters of my twin and I.  Also, my elder brother from that lifetime played surrogate father to our daughters.  Today, all the players of this ancient family are being reunited, some as Eagles of Archangel Michael, and some as incarnated starseeds on Earth… as well as I and my sister, Pleiadian walk-ins.  We all know well that death is not the end of life.  Life continues as our storylines weave with that of other souls, through this quadrant and others.

Obviously, for some of the participants of this story, there is still some residual trauma.  I am myself now even clearing my own.  Each individual is responsible for clearing their trauma when it comes up for examination.  This process doesn’t mean you have to re-experience the entire proceedings of your death.  However, I tend to see everything, like I am viewing a movie.  Typically, tears will fall as the emotions pour forth, but I soon regain my composure.  And as I remember I become more whole and healed.  Now I can understand why I was unable to process the deep grief and guilt I felt at leaving my mate to her fate and my child in the hands, although capable, of another relative.  My death and hers were not my fault.

As a recent walk-in, I know some readers might have some difficulty understanding why I am here and why I am working on ancient trauma from various episodes of a war seemingly long forgotten, certainly by humanity.

Well, to answer the questions, I will say that Earth is currently experiencing the final wrap-up of the ancient Star Wars.  The “enemy” is here.  Having died at their hands, I recognize the energy signature and frequency of the Belials, who once attacked my homeworld and those of our galactic allies.  The same beings that are regarded as “the elite” on this planet are those who carry some of the blood of their forebears, the Belials.  Some of these beings are not even human but are capable of shapeshifting enough to hide their true identities as extraterrestrial interlopers.  Others have mixed their blood with Earth humans, whom they regard as inferior and subservient to their own kind.  The aggressive nature of these interlopers has been introduced into the human genome by genetic engineering. All of these unnatural and uninvited beings are in the process of being removed from this solar system.  As the true Earth humans awaken to the fact that their world has been invaded from within, they are finally taking steps to remove these enemies of humanity.  You will know them, the Belials, through their works, their service-to-self nature, and their absolute disdain for the human virtues such as humility, compassion, and cooperation.

Tomorrow, I shall continue on with my personal story of the ancient Star Wars in Part II – Remembrance.

I AM Line Cmdr. Sundeelia VaCoupe, of the Pleiadian flagship, The White Winds

© All Rights Reserved.  The creation of videos or recordings from this material is NOT permitted.  When sharing, refer back to the author and original blog link:  Eliza Ayres, www.bluedragonjournal.com