Peter's Call to Healing

A snow-covered mountaintop next to the Lake District of Cumbria - Wast Water

Lisbon, Portugal

It was May 4th of that year when I began consciously waking up.  I had already been in Lisbon for several months, and despite the difference in our host country, the detachment itself was in shambles.  I remember being told by our senior Staff Non-Commissioned Officers, and officers for that matter, that the most memorable experiences would come from the hardship; would come from those posts that force you to bond with people that you would not have otherwise.  And it's true.

By the time I had arrived, in August of 1997, the Marines had been through a disruptive phase and due to a tangled romantic relationship with embassy staff, they were no longer socializing with one another outside of their official responsibilities.  A few of the Marines were not getting along on a personal level, and this translates into negativity, and a toxic work atmosphere for those that were working alongside them.  Although both Marines were enjoyable in their own right, if you were to bring them together into the same space, any given conversation would grind to a halt and a cold, dense, air would fill the void.

I had spent the previous months questioning my spirituality and the role that my early philosophical interests had in shaping my potential career.  I had also called into question the moral authority to take another person's life while in the line of duty.  Having been trained in the safe and effective use of a variety of modern military weaponry, and having carried a sidearm to work for the previous year and a half, I found myself questioning if I could live with the outcome that an escalated situation may produce.  Although I had never identified as a conscientious objector and could justify the use of deadly force in a life-threatening situation, I found that my downtime was filled with philosophical curiosities that I had not yet known.

I was also not raised in a particularly religious household, with the exception of attending Christmas and Easter services with my family and grandmother, and there was a time before I joined the Marine Corps when I had found an interest in learning the Asian philosophies.  I remember watching The Golden Child in the late '80s, for example, and wondering what that level of mysticism and enlightenment would bring into a person's life.  To be anointed from such a young age would surely be awe-inspiring, no?  On one hand, organized religion was always a turn-off, with its forceful and rigid judgments that were now influencing my extended family, while on the other hand, these experiences proved themselves to be turning points in my own spiritual journey.

Precognitive Perceptions

In the months leading up to my awakening and out-of-body experience, I had been warming up with a handful of precognitive scenarios that had heightened my psychic awareness and had come to me through my sleep.  My dreaming had intensified throughout the winter and this expanding awareness had proved itself to be a test, and an indicator, of those deeper levels of consciousness that I had intended in the preceding years.  After confiding in a fellow Marine about these precognitive experiences, and my growing psychic abilities, with what they could imply, and with his negative downplay into the legitimacy of such things, I decided to keep the rest of what would happen to myself.

I was preparing for an off-duty work assignment that had left me getting ready for a shower and shave after that morning's PT run.  Physical training on embassy duty is much the same as it is in the Fleet Marine Force in the sense that it's required, although a more personalized approach is taken towards an individual's level of fitness.  We never ran in formation, for example, and would often break up our routines when we left the embassy compound, and in an effort to stave off any potential surveillance that may be occurring.

It was still early morning when I had returned to my room and found myself inspecting my face in the full-length mirror that had adorned the back of the front door.  The room was dark, with just enough light that was filtering through the barely opened window to be able to see.  Then, the light began shifting through the room, moving from dark, to light, and now back to dark again as I turned and caught myself gazing in the mirror.  After a few moments of staring at myself, the view of my face softened, with its blurry silhouette slowly shifting into the mirror that surrounded it.

The Shaman's Call to Power

At first, I began to see animals as my face and body continued to shift into the light, and out of the mirror that I had been gazing into.  Astutely aware that I had no idea what time it was, and that I was due for an appointment in the embassy, I allowed myself a few more moments with the mirror before gathering myself to shower.  As I left my room and was heading towards our common shower area, my consciousness began to slip into a place that was over my shoulder, and outside of my body, as I began to witness myself walk down the hall.

As I returned to my body, I remember the water being very hot to the touch when I showered and shaved.  I remember the sudden jolt that had awakened me from my slumber was now very aware.  I also remember returning to my room, only to continue the gaze that I had left moments before.  The young Marine in me didn't know it then, as I know it now, but I was about to meet my spiritual guide, in human form, for the first time as I knew it.

He quickly appeared in my mind's eye as my brow opened wider and his two eyes pierced the veil of darkness that separated our worlds.  As the vision unfolded, I could see that he was standing there, patiently, atop a handmade wooden raft that was only bound with old, worn-out ropes; and he was steadying himself with a long, wooden, oar in what appeared to be the isles of Scotland.  He just stood there, quietly, as if he had been expecting me, with a blank stare on his face as his crude and scroungy-looking appearance began to settle in.

His name is Peter, and he was showing me a vision regarding my own past lives, and what would become a series of past-life regressions, later in Paris.  And for years on end I would connect with those two eyes, and a few others, for the work that I was about to embark upon.