Heaven’s Window is Through Your Heart – Sundeelia

Music:  Heaven’s Window – Peter Kater

Heaven’s Window is Through Your Heart – Sundeelia

This afternoon I slept for five hours.  I suppose I have one of my winter fevers.  And am in need of some peaceful music.  Despite being an observer here, I have found my own nerves on edge due to all the uncertainty your world is experiencing here now.

Be at peace, dear ones.  The love of Mother/Father God is eternal.  You are safe.  You are loved.  You can find great strength within any time you let go of trying to find a savior from outside of yourself.

No matter if you lose your physical vehicle during these times, you will live, again.  I know as I walk through my past lifetimes in the Sirian and Pleiadian star systems.  My lives have intersected time and time again with those whom I love.

As we suffer, we grow, until we overcome the suffering and learn to master our emotional body, to release burdens we no longer need to learn from and soar in frequency above the strife of the world.

We will all witness strange terrible and wonderful things in the months to come.  Discover the Peace that exists within when you reconnect to the Wholeness that has always existed.  Open the door that has ever been present and discover the altar of the Sacred Flame, your portal to Source Energy.  Each of you carries within your own Sacred Portal within which can give you immediate access to the energies that will soothe and heal whatever pain you are presently experiencing.

Do not compare your “progress” to that of another.  You do not know what choices they have made; you can know what choices you make.

Even if one whom you love is lost to the Darkness, know that in the passage of the spirals of time, they will come back to you, renewed once again.  Let them go to experience the lessons they have chosen.  You live on a planet that allows free will; so it happens that some will chose more difficult paths than others and who is to say which one is superior or “right”?

Each of you is a fractal or fragment of your Higher Self.  There is no one person who is the wholeness of their multidimensional Self, existent upon the Earth plane despite what is advertised.  True spirituality walks in the guise of humility, the power veiled until it needs to be put into use, and then discreetly hidden once again.  There is no need for complicated rituals unless they serve to quiet the Mind.  The Heart… within the Heart Center is always quiet and ready to engage if one can still the busy ego.

Find ways to calm the emotional body:  Put the phone down.  Listen to soothing music.  Exercise lightly.  Stretch the mind through puzzles and new knowledge about nature.  Go for a walk in a forest.  Play with a child or pet.  If the news is depressing or upsetting, turn it off and plunge into an activity that gives you joy, whether it is dancing, singing, playing an instrument, painting, and drawing, journaling… whatever makes your heart sing.  You can become your own therapist.  Just recognize that YOU have the power to heal yourself should you so choose.

Each of you with a Heart Flame is the return of the Christ energy, embodied this time within the human collective.  Celebrate the birth of Christ by celebrating what is growing within your hearts and minds; a realization that you are, indeed, more powerful than you can presently imagine.  You, as a collective, can heal each other and your world.  We did it, both in Sirius and the Pleiades.  Now it’s your time, beloveds.  Now it is YOUR time!

I AM Sundeelia Kumara VaCoupe, Violet Flame Angel

Remembrance – Part 10, “In a Pool of Golden Light”

Cloud Light

Remembrance – Part 10

Note to Readers:  This story is from the time I, Sundeelia, was a Sirian.  The young man who figures as the main character of the story was my eldest son, Aman Gia, a priest.  For those who have not yet read the beginning of this story, please see the page “Remembrance” with links to all ten related articles:

“In a Pool of Golden Light” by Cmdr. Sundeelia VaCoupe

The young man was sunk deep into a meditative state.  He was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed.  A shaft of light illuminated his pale features in golden light.  He was dressed in a simple short woven brown robe, with loose white trousers, a white loose shirt beneath his open robe. Head bent in thought, one gold earring glinted from his left ear, peeking from beneath his white blonde shoulder-length hair.  His long slender feet were bare, a gesture of humility as he sought to clear his mind of the emotions that arose from his last meeting with his oft-absent father, the head commander of the Sirian Fleet.

He fought to suppress the anger and frustration that seemed to rise up like a snake whenever he confronted his father.  Ironically, he was tired of feeling this way and so he sought to reach deep into the depths of his being, seeking out the gate to the sacred space that his mentors spoke of with great awe.

Like a drowning man, he sunk deeper into meditation, breathing slowly, his consciousness gradually losing touch with his physical surroundings… the towering hall outside the smaller side chapel, the massive golden columns, the sweet smoky scent of incense…the distant chimes marking the hour…the soft repetitive chants of pilgrims who were visiting the great Temple.  Gradually, a golden light surrounded the focus of his awareness and carried his attention beyond his body, out into the skies above the vast city, and beyond.  He floated in a pool of light surrounding his light body, bathing him in warmth like a mother’s love, filling with strength from the divine essence of the Father.

His consciousness was guided on by unseen guides until he floated above Sirian space.  He could see all the worlds, the great central sun of Sirius A, his own home isle; the smaller solar presence of Osiris (Sirius B) and beyond Ganat (Sirius C) the smallest of the solar isles.  Like tiny pearls, the lesser isles and moons followed their great stars like glittering necklaces.

As he gazed upon the sight, his attention was drawn by flashes of light and the feeling of grave danger; a battle was taking place on the periphery of the system.  His father’s fleet was engaged in yet another confrontation with their relentless enemy from the lower Orion system.

In his neutral state of observation, he wondered what he could do to assist his father and the many sons of Sirius who fought these battles day after day.  He admitted to himself that his father was right; he wasn’t suited for war, but as a Son of Light, he could accomplish something.  He could feel the surety of this knowledge within his entire being; there had to be a way.  He knew it, just knew it.

Feeling the slight but insistent tug upon his silver cord, Aman hesitated for a moment, gazing upon the star system, the home that he loved.  And then he let go and swiftly returned to his body that was slumped over in the quiet chapel.  For a moment he kept his eyes closed, relishing the visions he had just experienced within his meditation, and then breathing out a deep sigh, he opened his green eyes and looked around.

In the middle of the night, Aman awoke from a disturbed sleep to see a golden figure standing at the foot of his bed in his modest quarters.  He sat up and watched the golden fingers of the figure draw geometric shapes in the air, the patterns remaining visible for a few moments and then disappearing.  Then, the shapes reversed upon themselves.  A few minutes later, the shapes reversed yet again.  Aman recognized a pattern, a rhythm to the process.  It was an oscillation forcefield…would that be sufficient to protect their worlds?  How could it be reproduced to be large enough to encompass the entire Sirian star system?  The nameless figure smiled and pointed to its own heart and made a circle with its hand that lingered in the air as the figure itself disappeared into the gloom.

In the morning, Aman was impatient to complete his priestly duties so he could visit his grandfather, Lord Chananda, who he regarded as one of the most intelligent and compassionate individuals in Sirius.  He often visited his grandfather, sometimes to confess his confusion over his father’s activities in the fleet.  Lord Chananda always simply looked deep into his eyes and stated, “Your father is doing what he is here for…”

This time he was excited to have something else to speak of with his grandfather.  Late in the afternoon, he was finally released from his last duty and headed down the hill from the great Temple where he served towards the House of the Ancient of Days, where the head of the Gia Family resided.  Lord Chananda, as a Son of Krishna, resided in the vast complex in a comfortable dwelling filled with several generations of Gia family members.  He enjoyed spending time in his personal gardens when he was not attending official events and duties; however, today, the Lord was not present in the fragrant garden.  A servant told Aman that his grandfather was attending a gathering of dignitaries in the great hall of the House.  Disappointed, Aman nevertheless headed in that direction, first making a stop at his own quarters that he used when visiting to change into more suitable garments.  The court was very particular about their dress.  Everyone save his own father, Commander Delos, obeyed these strict rules and protocols.  Delos seemed to follow his own inner piper and continued to dress simply when off-duty, primarily in white garments that were more suitable to a working man.  Aman found that particular trait in his father to be particularly irritating, feeling that it was an insult to his mother, the lady Anya.  Still, the source of the chronic irritation was far from his consciousness today; he wanted to share his vision with Grandfather…

Following a long gallery above the great Court, Aman joined his uncle Jychrondria and aunt Reynea, the two of them observing the audience taking place below.  These relatives were actually related to the first lifetime of Lord Delos, but both being long-lived were still present when Delos returned to them in a second incarnation.  Aman understood that reincarnation into specific families was a trait in many Sirian families, but especially in the higher caste.

Aman halted near his relatives and made a simple obeisance to his uncle and aunt and then turned to survey the crowd before.

Lord Chananda was standing to the side of his Father, Lord Krishna, who was speaking to some dignitaries from the Pleiades.  One or two of the men were dressed in their Command uniforms, covered with long formal cloaks.  The insignias of their rank and family were emblazoned above their hearts.  A ranking member of the secular branch of the Sirian government was also present, one of the Kavioush Family, who had ruled Sirius from time immemorial.  Aman was curious as to what was being discussed, but there was a seal of privacy around the discussion.  The telepathic speech of the participants could not be interfered with during the presentation until a certain degree of secrecy was no longer required.  However, Aman had a sense that the visit involved the desire of the Pleiadians to recruit men and ships for their Command.

The Pleiadian Fleet was one of the biggest in the galaxy, but their territory was also vast and encompassed thousands of isles, big and small.  It was almost impossible at times to protect them all so there had been many villages preyed upon by an assortment of raids, from slavers to vicious military operations.  There did not seem to be any logic to the way the enemy operated save an intention to create the utmost in fear and outrage.  Many outlying smaller star systems had actually joined the Pleiadian Federation to gain protection.  All these worlds had their own ships, but those were mainly for private use or as freight carriers, as all the isles shared intersystem commerce at some level.

Aman knew so much about the Pleiadians as his father, Lord Delos, had spent one-year training under one of their top commanders, the famous Commander Lord Lyonell.  From Delos’ shared impressions, Aman knew the commander was quite prominent in instructing even his adopted Pleiadians on how to fight this strange enemy, the Belial forces.  Perhaps it was something in the Feline bloodline that assisted one in coming up with the unique and innovative techniques for searching out their quarry and scanning the spatial frequencies for disturbances.  The priest shook his head as if to clear it of all references to his father and returned his attention to the scene below.

Since the faces of the Pleiadians conveyed some disappointment that even he could discern from above, Aman knew the plea for men had been denied.  The Sirian fleet was maxed out with all the smaller attacks coming from multiple directions these days.  Aman knew that his father worried about the possibility of a large attack being directed against the great city of Sirust itself, a thrust to the heart of the star system and its government.  Despite himself, Aman felt for his father, the heavy weight of command that he had exercised for so long with little respite.

A movement below caught his eye…the tall Pleiadians were bowing to the Sirian leaders, Lord Krishna, and the representative of the Kavioush Family.  They turned to leave the audience chamber.  As they came parallel to where Aman was standing, he met the up-glance from with one of the taller Pleiadians, a brawny and bronzed individual with golden hair and great blue eyes.  Aman stepped back in surprise when the man actually winked at him and then continued on with his companions towards the exit door to the great hall.  Who was that? He wondered to himself.  A shiver ran through him for the man looked familiar even though he had never seen him before in this life, yet he knew him.  He didn’t have time to wonder as he saw his grandfather moving towards a side door that would lead him to the private family quarters within the great dwelling place.  Again, making a sketchy obeisance to his elder relatives, Aman dashed off along the gallery as fast as his feet would carry him without injuring his priestly dignity and pride.

Aman reached his grandfather’s private rooms just after the older man had settled into a comfortable couch to rest.  Lord Chananda looked up as his grandson strode in without being announced; his flustered housekeeper tried to stop the young man, but the Lord smiled and waved her away.  What is it, Aman, that you can’t wait a minute?

Pardon me, Grandfather…I…I have had a vision!

Aman—men of our family have many visions; what is so special about yours that you come barging in when I’m about to rest a while.  Standing in the audience hall isn’t the most entertaining of activities!

Aman blushed at his audacity.  His grandfather was a scion of one of the highest houses in Sirust and a man of great learning and wisdom, highly respected by all.  He bowed and made his apologies, but the vision still had him in its thrall, so he blurted out…”I have seen a way we can protect our worlds!”

For what seemed a long moment, Chananda regarded his grandson with a skeptical look, one dark brow raised over a green eye.  He studied the lad’s face and posture and deduced something out of the ordinary had gripped him, indeed.  Tell me!

Aman conveyed the vision to his grandfather in a series of pictures, outlining the shapes traced in the air by the mysterious hand, their shape and motion.  His grandfather looked on with interest as his grandson endeavored to communicate the consequences and potential of his vision.  Finally, he completed his tale and looked over at the elder man.  Well, what do you think?

Be patient; I must think this over!

Aman looked with astonishment on his grandfather… who by his looks was not beyond his mid-thirties, but whom the boy knew was well into his 600th year and beyond.  Still, with the sensitive nature of his lineage, the boy intuited a growing sense of excitement in the older man.  When Chananda felt Aman staring at him impatiently, he waved him out of the room.  Go, Aman… I must speak to my Father about this discovery!”

“Aman… thanks to you for this.  I just hope it isn’t too late…”

The young priest heard no more as he walked slowly down the corridor to his own quarters so he might change into his priestly robes before returning to the Temple and his duties.  What did Grandfather mean when he said “too late”?

It was only in a place that he did not want to acknowledge that he knew and dreaded the answer to his own question – too late for his father, the impetuous and intense defender of Sirius, Lord and Commander Delos.  Soberly he walked down the long marble corridor, ignoring the gorgeous inlaid tiles and paintings of the beautiful palace.

His conflicted feelings about his long-absent father returned, dimming the vision of the great meditation.  While he was seldom comfortable in his company, Aman secretly admired and deeply loved the brave warrior who was lauded throughout Sirust, who did not let the praise go to his head but focused on his mission, day in and day out, with little respite.  And if he was more honest, Aman felt a tiny bit jealous of one who was so sure of his purpose and did his utmost to carry it out no matter what.  It was the phrase “no matter what” that sent a shiver through his body, as Aman looked through the window in his room, his inner eyes seeing that distant firefight, one of many in which his father and his forces participated.  He could only hope to emulate in some small way the accomplishments of this man who had molded the Sirian star fleet into a great intergalactic fleet, with the latest technology and training from both the Ashtarians and Pleiadians, despite the tendency of the Sirians to want to cling to the old ways.

Aman headed back to the Temple, climbing the grand steps of the huge golden building and turning to admire the view over the sprawling city below, with each of the sections separated by high walls until reaching the outer grounds of the temple hills, the most sacred places in all of Sirust and Sirius A.  Climbing the steps slowly, he made the resolution to do something of great value, if only to emulate his great father…

Again, in the middle of the night, Aman was wakened by his golden visitor… this time he looked at the glowing figure more closely.  There was a distinct familiarity with its features.  The being smiled sweetly and spoke to Aman: “Child of Light, due to your diligence, prayers, and concern for your people, you have been granted a dispensation that will benefit all; it will protect your worlds permanently from further threats of invasion and outside interference…”

“But how so, oh mighty One?” Aman now felt he had sufficiently identified his golden stranger… his own great, great grandfather, the Lord Vishnu, who had gone into the Light years ago.  “Lord Vishnu?”

“I AM, grandson.”

“What must be done?”

“Speak to your Grandfather and Great Grandfather and the great Council of Sirius.  A great meditation must be given forth for all the people to participate within, as all will be affected by the forcefield that is co-created through this great effort.  I will communicate myself with your kin to prepare them.”

For a moment, Aman was stunned…and then another thought interfered…his father and the fleet.

“What of my father and the Fleet?”

“Of your father, we can do nothing; his fate is sealed at his own hand, but the great Fleet will survive what is coming…”

Despite his priestly hard-won self-discipline, Aman felt tears start in his eyes at the judgment against his father.  Vishnu, sensing his distress, continued, “Do not fret about your father; what he is about to do is brave beyond measure; foolish, but brave.  And he will be taken to a place of healing, where he will be without remembrance of this land and people for many ages to come until such time when he is again at peace.  Then it will be time to release this hidden burden of his heart…”

“I do not understand, Grandfather…”

“Do not worry for those whose time is nearly done here in this world; there are many more before them.”

Vishnu appeared more concrete for a moment, his golden clad form glittering in the moonlight, emanating a soft auric glow.  “Now for the meditation…watch!”

Using his ability to memorize and observe, Aman carefully watched the motions of his grandfather’s golden hands as they traced the mudras that would activate the great forcefield.  And he absorbed the incantations and prayers to repeat to set the forcefield into perpetual motion, a great oscillating forcefield that reverses on itself every few hours and will do so as long as the great Star Nation of Sirius retains its alignment to the Will of the Father God.

Within two months the great meditation was performed and the forcefield was activated, one which still exists today, protecting Sirius and all worlds contained within its star system.  Only native Sirians can live within this forcefield.  Visitors can only usually stay a couple of hours before they get begin to sicken from the effects of the powerful forcefield.  And low-frequency beings cannot enter the forcefield at all.  The activation of this great forcefield effectively resulted in protecting all the Sirian worlds from further invasion from the Sons of Belial.  This new development allowed selected members of the Sirian fleet to work with other allies like the Pleiadians and Ashtarians on operations to free their worlds of the threat.

As we know from earlier stories, Lord Delos did not survive his last desperate effort to free his world.  Instead, his effort and sacrifice won the Sirian people the time to learn the meditation and to perform it in one long night under the light of the same moon in which Aman had first learned it from his paternal great, great grandfather, the God-Man Lord Vishnu.  Conceived in the moonlight, the great meditation forever protects Sirius in a great pool of golden light.

For his efforts in saving the people of Sirius, Lord Aman is forever remembered and honored.  And the Lord Vishnu bestowed the name, Treya, upon this servant of the Father God.  The name means blessed by the Light of Kristos.  And Lord Aman Treya Gia would forevermore carry forth that name in recognition of his great service as an emissary of Light in alignment with Divine Will.

And Lord Delos never returned back to his beloved Sirius…

Main Page – Remembrance: My Sirian Past Lives

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

Permission is NOT given to make videos or recordings of this written material.  Author:  Elizabeth Ayres Escher, 2018.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 8: “Metamorphosis”

lady of light

Line Cmdr. Sundeelia – Remembrance, Part 8:  “Metamorphosis”

The fierce heart and determination of Lord Delos still exist within me, despite my now being in a female form.  I realize fully that there will be people who question this story, but I have had verification from my highly intuitive sister, RaNia and her Eagles, that what I have shared thus far is the truth.  As my dear sister states, it is “your highest and the self-loving reason you have come here.”

My purpose in coming here was to heal and in that healing process to gather up all the fragments of my soul essence that was left in other places, in other times, on the battlefield in deep space, on the funeral pyre with my beloved mates, in the laughter and tears of my children, in my beloved Sirius forever in my heart.  Together with these words, I bind together the pieces and fragments of that one who was sent forth by the Command of Source to fulfill and complete a balance in polarity.

As I tell these stories, the memories of those with whom I shared my lives with coming to the fro… my great and loving Father, Lord Chananda; my beautiful mates, Jalithya (first life) and Anya (second life); my honored comrades, especially Jon deAir Kavioush; my sister, Raynna (granddaughter); my son, Aman, and many others.

These people are (were) real.  Some have changed their identities as their souls have moved on; others still remain in Sirius to serve their people.  Each of us is unique in our attributes and what we can offer in the way of service to others.  As Lord Delos, I chose to dedicate my life to the service for the people as a warrior during a great time of need.  I served over 300 of our years, which is approximately 1,000 Earth years.  I say approximately as the measure of “time” varies from star system to star system.  When I devised my last strategy, it was more out of desperation and lack of time to prepare our people for what was about to descend on them, a full-out invasion force of the Belials with the intent to kill or conquer our people completely.  After so long, I knew the energy frequency and patterns of the enemy, how they thought, where they were stationed, what planets they had managed to conquer, and what planets they had managed to destroy, rape or pillage in their goal of ultimate conquest of this galaxy.  As Delos, I did not understand or comprehend the source of this bridled lust for conquest, but, thanks to my mentors and my people’s faith in me, I did my best to counteract the infection given our resources.  After so many years of attrition in the population, so many needless deaths, my people were exhausted and traumatized by the senseless onslaught.  So I pulled one last trick out of the basket and played it…

This morning I was wondering if I had knowingly committed suicide, but my dear sister gently admonished me and replied:

(You made) the ultimate selfless loving sacrifice to protect those you loved… Suicide is a term used to describe selfishness and cowardly escape. So NO! You acted as a warrior who used tactics to draw out the enemy and expand hope, freedom and the return to Peace and Divine Creation…

There will those who question my motives and state of mind, but I knew what I was doing.  I was not afraid of dying.  I had given up my soul to God, everything I owned and loved, for the protection of my people and world.  And the sacrifice was accepted and acknowledged.

Soon after I left Sirius and that world behind, my son Aman and my father, Lord Chananda, led the people of Sirust in a great meditation.  Through the power of their collective thought, they were able to create a unique forcefield that would forever protect the Sirian system from any further attempts at invasion.  For today, those who are not of Sirian blood can remain no longer than a few hours within this forcefield, which reverses on itself throughout the day.  In my present life as Sundeelia, I was honored to visit Sirius and meet some of my distant Sirian relatives, as well as my Father, Lord Chananda… who is an Ancient of Days like his brother, Lord Sanat Kumara of Venus.  I managed to stay a total of five hours but then was carefully escorted back to the ship which had taken me there.   Most people cannot stay more than two hours.  Low-frequency individuals cannot enter the forcefield of Sirius at all.  I do have a little Sirian blood, from both sides of the family, after all.

And now we return back to Delos…

Upon leaving my body behind after the battle, I was escorted in Light Body to Arcturus by a pair of Eagles, members of an elite force of Angels and Archangels who assist in protecting lightworkers and members of the Family of Light.

The Eagles are chosen for their strength, size, and qualities of character.  One of my Eagles seemed vaguely familiar to me.  He was a tall, brawny fellow with great twinkling dark blue eyes and golden blonde hair curling around his shoulders.  At the time, I wasn’t really in any shape to inquire further into his identity, but intuitively knew that I had known him before…somewhere else.  The other man was also very tall and broad-shouldered, but with darkly bronzed skin, black hair, and brilliant blue eyes lined with violet.  They both wore simple form-fitting silver uniforms that reminded me of the ones worn by the Pleiadians whom I had met earlier in my life while training with Lord Lyonell in the Command.  I’m not sure why I’m describing them now, except these two are still with me to this day and I have shared a few lives with them, as well.  I simply know them as EZ and Tomás.  They are my constant companions now while a portion of my consciousness resides here in what we (the Pleiadians) regard as the dangerous frequencies of 3D.

Our journey was done in Light body since my physical body was not in any shape to be moved; it had to be left behind for whoever would discover it lying sprawled below the control board console. (For skeptical readers, in the light body, you can assume any form you like.  I was still accustomed to the form I wore as Delos.)  As we traveled, I only had the impression of a great rush of air against my face, glimpses of stars and large worlds rushing past my dazzled eyes.  The Eagles kept a firm grip on my light body as I kept fainting from the pain of my wounds.  Yes, your light body can be damaged during physical trauma.  What do you think I’m doing here?  I AM here to clear up what I suffered.  As I have stated previously in other articles, it is easier to clear old pain, trauma, and karma on this plane than it is at Home.  In my case, it is simply here I’m not currently involved in a “job” so have the luxury of time and a safe space in which to do this intense personal clearing work.

Where are we going? Curious to the last breath… I had to ask the Angels (as I knew them) that my Father had sent me for my last journey.

There was a chuckle and a deep baritone voice tersely replied, “Arcturus!”

Why?

I got the impression of a highly amused consciousness that enveloped me in warmth… For healing, you fool!  Don’t you remember?

A stream of images cascaded through my consciousness, bits and pieces of my now former life, my training with Lord Lyonell, the loss of my brother and so many others, my wife and the birth of our long-awaited son, my involvement in the fleet until reaching the position of Head Commander, the endless years of fighting and witnessing the depredations of a deranged and dishonorable enemy … and the final crashing chord, my decision to act as bait in a desperate move against a strong and relentless enemy:

I didn’t want to die, but I knew that the enemy would not let go of the opportunity to capture me alive…so I used some of their agents to let them know when and where I was going to be alone.  They were too stupid and arrogant to wonder for what purpose the head commander of the Sirian fleet would be visiting a deserted outpost in disputed space, especially alone.  Such was their hate for me that enraged they brought what they thought to be an overwhelming force…for one man.  Yet, I was the commander of the forces that had thwarted so many of their attacks upon our worlds…since not long after the death of my brother, Tazo.  I had trained my men thoroughly so any one of them could replace any officer, including me, should the need arise.  Jon deAir was the most senior of my officers, well-respected, and the most brilliant of any of my students so I selected him to take command if I did not return… After so many years and surviving one battle after another, our force was very tight and bonded; my word was not questioned or my plans, but all was perfectly executed to accomplish a stunning defeat of the surprised enemy forces.  I was not wrong about Jon and my men; they did what needed to be done and so did I.

“Ah, a warrior…” replied the deep baritone voice with just a touch of irony.  “It is time to let that go and sleep…”

A great hand rested on my fevered brow radiating heat; I found myself drifting off, surrounded by light, warmth…safety…and knew no more…

Later…much later I swam out of a hazy light-filled sense of being not quite here or there, floating on a sea of consciousness.  Or should I say unconsciousness, for I could not remember – anything?

Where am I?

An intense light surrounded him and he could feel strong arms grasping his body.

You’re dead; don’t you remember?  The deep voice had a hint of laughter in it.

Ah… Actually, all he remembered was floating high above his prone body that was sprawled out on the deck, within the same ship where his brother met his fate so long ago.  Like his brother, he had been hit by one of the enemy ships before his fleet could reach the scout ship.  He knew his plan was risky, but it was a chance he had to take…for the sake of my people.  And I rather have died than be taken alive…

The ironic voice cut through his thoughts once more: It was a foolish thing to do…What should I call you?

Delos!  He replied with a snap.

Laughter greeted him.  Not anymore.  Delos is dead.  Delos is no more…

Do you remember?

Remember what? He snapped again.

And then he saw a vision… When Jon and the crew came aboard to fetch my body they found it laying on the deck.  The brittle glass of the viewing window had been broken by a direct shot; he could see a gaping wound in his chest where it was hurting right now in the worst way.

Ah, now you see Truth.

I must have been hit by a laze gun…

Yes.  A direct blow, but your enemies will not be celebrating.  They lost a third of their complete fleet in that battle.

A third?  He was startled, amazed, delighted.  That will slow them down; cut them down to size…!

Like they did you, Commander?

Delos could sense the irony and amusement in the deep voice.  He repeated his first question.  Where am I?

“Arcturus,” replied another higher voice.  Delos could sense a tiny bit of irritation in the second person, a different presence, and female.  He felt a small gentle hand rest on his brow.  “You are awake now?”

He wasn’t sure.  He felt dizzy, weak… and small.  His hands ranged over his body and then he went rigid in shock.   “What is this?”

“For now, Delos; we had to place your Light Body into an avatar to stabilize it.  Your light body sustained great damage.  It will take time to heal.   It’s time to open your eyes, now, Delos…”

When Delos opened his eyes, he found himself in a small plain room.  It was simply furnished, a small bed, a chest for clothes, a washstand with a bowl, a small mirror… and a blue vase sitting in the casement of an open window.  Through the window, there came a light breeze and with the breeze the scent of sweet flowers.  He sniffed the fragrance with pleasure… he had forgotten about the simple pleasures in life with his preoccupation with fighting the enemy.

“Ah…you are now beginning to heal.”  A small dark-haired woman was standing next to the bed as there weren’t any chairs in the room to be seen.

“Who are you?” he asked… and then remembered his manners, “I am Delos, of Sirius.”

“No longer Delos…or of Sirius”, replied the brown-haired woman.  “You are my patient and you will be with us for some time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, chastened, watching as the woman stepped away and returned carrying a glass of some pale rose-colored liquid.  She handed him the glass and then proceeded to prop up his pillows so he could sit up and take a drink.

No woman had ever treated him like this since he was a toddler in his father’s house.  Ah, Father…tears started…

“Drink up…and get some rest.” The woman watched him as he drained the glass and handed it back to her.  “I am called Suriya.  I am a healer.”

She bowed to him, turned and walked out of the room without closing the door.  Delos felt the presence of someone outside his door; a guard?  Apparently, he was being watched intently.  He lay back down on the pillows and tried to relax.  This body felt wrong, different; it would take a while to adjust to it.  He lifted up a hand to examine it.  The fingers were small but well-shaped and the wrist finely boned, the skin a light bronze…very strange, indeed.  Still, if he had to remain here for a while, so be it.  He didn’t have the strength to protest anyway.

During the days, months, and years that followed, Delos continued to heal.  After the first month, when he was deemed well enough, he was taken to the light chambers and laid within one of the apparatuses there which were designed to work on the light body as well as the physical body.  He mostly slept and dreamed while in the healing bed.  He shared these dreams mainly with people from his previous lives, familiar faces, old haunts, dark visions of silver ships falling through an endless space spattered with distant stars.  In time the images began to change, to morph, to include new faces and places.

He dreamt: He was sitting in a garden, much like his Father’s, with high walls covered with flowering vines.  On one side there was a covered walkway with arches and a brick surface.  The walls were filled with odd and colorful paintings and sculpture.  A couple of water features…fountains gurgled delicate sprays of water into the air cooling the atmosphere of the garden.  The air was warm, but it was drier than Sirius…

He was sitting on a bench.  He looked down towards his feet and felt a shock run through his body.  He was a woman, a small woman… arrayed in a long delicate multi-layered dress that spread out to either side, covering the entire stone bench.  His..her arms were brown like a lower caste Sirian woman, but he saw the delicate gold embroidery woven in a tiny pattern of flowers and leaves through the fabric of the dress and felt tiny pearls on the bodice as she reached up in a self-conscious gesture and knew she was a woman of some worth.

Where am I?  And who am I?

Remember…

Then a tall, muscular man strode through a nearby doorway she hadn’t noticed before and stood before her.  She looked up in some puzzlement and studied the man’s bronzed face, his bright blue eyes lined with dark violet, the ridiculously long lashes, squared chin and high rugged cheekbones, the straight long nose…and those beautiful broad shoulders.  The man was wearing a long sleeveless tunic that fell to his knees, belted with a woven metallic belt, into which a small holstered knife was pushed.  His legs were bare and he was wearing leather sandals.  His strong square jaw was cleanly shaven. His hair was long but plaited into a single braid, but wiry curls hung around his temples and near his ears.  He had a couple of beaded earrings in his ears and a strangely intricate beaded necklace around his thick neck. Woven leather and beaded bracelets were on each thick wrist. He was tall, very tall and now standing above her in a most disagreeable fashion.

Remember…

Remember what, she asked impatiently craning her neck up to see his face.  You’re towering over me like a tree.  Sit down!

She pushed aside her flowing skirt to make room for him to sit and then paused, glancing up at the towering figure before her.  Hmm… you’re too big.  Go over there!  She pointed to another nearby bench.  She was almost…almost sorry the bench was too small.  Confusion made her cheeks flush pink.  The man smiled impishly, apparently enjoying being the source of her discomfort.  His wide smile gleamed with straight white teeth.  Then he sat back quietly and waited.

For a moment she stared at his face.  She thought, he looks somehow familiar to me, like I know him from somewhere else…

Remember… the scene faded and then changed:

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 not be its mother, yet you will engender him.  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. 

With a graceful nod of her head, she acknowledged the message from Source.  Tucking the rose into her bosom, she slowly swayed towards the side door to enter the Temple.  She heard the bells calling Her priestesses to prayer.  And she was gone vanished into the golden light…

When he awoke again, all he could see was golden light.  A radiant figure stood at the side of his bed.  He could not see its face but could sense it was male.  There was a familiarity to its essence… The singular figure was joined by another, this time feminine…of that he was sure.  What?

It is time for you to be reborn, dear one.  You will be a male, again, but not Sirian.  Where is it you would like to be born?  Sirius is closed to you.  You have completed your mission and purpose there and must move on…

He thought for a moment and remembered the time when he was with the Pleiadians.  It would be very different than the ancient culture of Sirius; some of the inhabitants of the Pleiadian isles were still rather fierce and wild.  The more civilized Pleiadians called these people, “tribals”, for they preferred to keep their ancient ways of living as nomads.  Still, the rugged simplicity of their lives appealed to some inner need…He nodded his head… Tribal Pleiadian…

So be it.

Before he lost consciousness once more, a deep voice echoed through his head: Remember…

Thus comes to an end to a strange interlude wherein the soul essence of Delos was reblended with his light body, a form of soul retrieval as the parts of his fragmented soul was gathered up and brought back to his light body so he might go forth into his next life whole and healthy…

Who was the tall blonde male stranger?  Perhaps we will find out in the further pages of this story.

Peace to all,

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

© All Rights Reserved, 2012-18.  No videos or records are allowed.  Use of this material in part in articles or published material without the express written permission of the author is NOT allowed.  If reposting, acknowledge the author, Elizabeth Ayres Escher, and link back to the original page and content on www.bluedragonjournal.com

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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, Elizabeth Ayres Escher, 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, Elizabeth Ayres Escher, 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:  Elizabeth Ayres Escher, 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:  Elizabeth Ayres Escher, www.bluedragonjournal.com.