Redeeming the Souls of Battle

Last November Lord Shiva the Hindu God appeared to me in a series of visions, he showed me the Kennedy assassination and he took me into an earthquake in a large city and he also showed me the radiant celestial light of his world, which we call the Solar Logos, which was very beautiful and he concluded by asking me to go to the battlefields of the 1st World War in Flanders.

He suggested I take Tom Lishman, who many of you know from the Aya ceremonies in Ecuador. Tom was a major in the British army and worked in Iraq after the last war before he became New Age (tee hee) so he knows a lot about being shot at and all things military.

The battlefields of the 1914-1918 war were known as the Western Front. They stretched across southern Belgium and into France all the way to the Swiss border. Lord Shiva asked that I remove the pain of the dead soldiers and release them back to the light. War leaves a terrible stain for hundreds of years and its dark cloud influences people for hundreds of miles around making their sentiments darker and more depressed.

I didn’t have much of a clue as to how to remove the pain but later I saw visions and I got instructions from the Beings.

Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial

Tom and I travelled a thousand miles zigzagging through the lanes where the battles took place from the Belgium coast through Mons, Amiens and St. Quentin all the way down to Verdun in France in the south. We visited 105 military cemeteries and we knelt and prayed at the graves of 482,000 men, and we also visited a few churches at the battlefields and some stone memorials dedicated to men that went missing presumed dead.

In the Aluna Mirror-World I could see that most of the men were in a comatose limbo, they were almost all teenagers or just in their twenties, they died suddenly in great pain with little religion or spirituality to guide them onwards to an afterlife some were gassed to death. So I said the Gayatri mantra on entering a cemetery and then Tom and I knelt and made the sign of the Tolemac that is linked in the Aluna to the Knights of St. George. Tom went round and prayed and touched as many graves as he could.

The Beings told me to stomp my foot and clap my hands and shout out in a loud voice “Jesus”, they said the resonance of the stomp and the power of the word would wake the men up. It was very moving. I could see in the Aluna that it worked. The soldiers rose slowly out of their graves effortlessly. Some cemeteries had 20,000 men in them, watching that many rise up left me in awe with few words to describe it all.

I told the men to look for a celestial light at 45-up right, which when facing north is in the direction of NNE and up 45 degrees above the level plane. The men could see it even though it was feint. Some men had no legs. I told them to breathe in the light and they would be restored of their limbs, and I could see in the Aluna that they did that and it worked. It overwhelmed me watching the men made whole once more all their wounds now gone, their tears washed away. Some were scared and hungry so I told them to breathe the light into their heart, and let it nourish them, they also felt okay after a while.

Then in the Aluna I’d call for the senior officer there to make himself known, and I’d ask him to please order the men into columns and to move them out once they were all present and correct and able to travel.

Later, I saw a four-color vision of hundreds of thousands of men marching on a curved trajectory upwards toward the celestial light. It touched me very deeply. One of the men asked me how long would it take to get to the light, I told him three days maybe four maximum. Some days later I saw the first of them arrive.

Tom and I would end each visit by praying for the pain of war to be removed and we would brush the air with our hands and make celestial signs and we’d touch the stones once more and the ground and then we’d leave and go to the next place.

We did many German graveyards as well as the British, American and Commonwealth graves. Many nations fought in the war, men came from the US, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand, Canada, India, and the English, Scottish, Welsh and Irish regiments were in the battles in great number.

One American cemetery had 20,000 men in it. It was very elegantly designed with a fountain and very wide stone stairs leading into it. Each grave was marked with a very stylish white marble cross. The British and Allied graves had very nice headstones each with the man’s regimental insignia carved on the stone. The Scottish Seaforth Regiment has a stag as their symbol I liked that insignia the best, their motto is, “Aid the king”. The German graves had metal crosses and there in those cemeteries the men were buried four to each cross.

750,000 British solders and their allies died and there were 2.1 million French dead; I’m not sure what the German losses amounted to, obviously a very great number.

We started early each morning but I found that by mid- afternoon I could not walk very well it was as if I was bogged down in the mud of Flanders’s fields as the men had been.

Retrieving a Fallen Man, Flander’s Fields – World War I

Both of us were often overwhelmed by nausea. The sense of futility and the pain of it all was hard to bare. At times I would cry to release the emotion of it. Sometimes I would go to the trees for respite.

Every night of the year at 8pm at the Menin Gate in Ypres, civilians and soldiers gather while Belgium buglers sound the solemn tones of the Last Post and then people come forward to lay wreaths. Three to five hundred people were there each night as the sounds of the four buglers pieced the damp night air. It is nice that the fallen are not forgotten.

Menin Gate, Ypres, Belgium

At the Menin Gate are recorded the name, rank and regiment of 70,000 men who died in the battles of Ypres and Passchendaele, but whose bodies were never found. And also in the cemeteries are tens of thousand of graves to unknown soldiers who were blown to bits and could not be identified. The graves said “An unknown soldier of the Great War, known only unto God.”

The job took us sixty hours. It was very intense we didn’t get a free ride because as we went through the graveyards, and the trenches and bunkers on the battlefields, we got hit etherically by the ghouls over and over, thirty to sixty times an hour was my count.

Each hit feels like stinging nettles on your skin and you can have them in five or six places on your body all at once. Sometimes the hits feel like skewers have gone through your wrists and your feet, they are jolly painful, and sometimes the hits feel like a spear has entered your chest, Tom got one through his skull. Those hits are very strong, they can make you call out in pain and they can knock you off your chair, which is a bit embarrassing if you are in a café at the time.

Tom and I were happy the men got away in such great numbers and we hoped that what we did morphed to other cemeteries we did not visit and that we left the place cleaner and brighter for those that may live nearby, or for others that visit the battlefields of Flanders in future years.

When you look at what hell these men went through our little daily squabbles and problems seem so ridiculous. (SW)

Rupert Brooke the war poet was a sub-lieutenant in the Royal Navy, he died on the way to a battle in Gallipoli aged 27.

War Poet, Rupert Brooke

Here is his famous poem ‘The Soldier’ it’s my all time favourite.

The Soldier by Rupert Brooke
(1887-1915)

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.