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!”
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?
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 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