reply to post by woodwytch
HI Woodwytch ... I know what you mean. Don't worry, we've all felt that way on occasion. You do your very best drawing and everyone tells you how
good it is. You've tried so hard. Put so much of yourself into it. You're so proud of it. It's the best thing you've ever done. You can't even
believe it yourself. Then you go to class and someone who already 'has everything' (lovely face, hair, home, parents, other talents etc.) pulls out
her drawing and you feel such a fool. Yours seems so pathetic by comparison. You're ashamed of your poor drawing now and put it away quickly .. say
you didn't do one, or left it at home, because you don't want your loyal friends put in an awkward position. If yours isn't there, then they don't
have to suffer divided loyalties. Then you join the applause for the good drawing and you mean it, but try to mean it even more because you're
ashamed underneath of the pride you felt earlier about your own.
No. Ego is not a terrible thing. It's your inner little-person, your 'authentic you', trying to protect you against pain, against all comers,
against everything that might topple you. The Dali Lama has ego ... a BIG one, despite his claimed lineage of dozens of superior-spirit incarnations.
So I think the rest of us can be forgiven for harbouring our inner-buddy who after all is just trying to keep us above water for another day, lol.
I've remembered a couple of what could be interpreted as snippits of past-lives. Posted them before (probably a couple of times, actually) on past
ATS threads, but in the spirit of this thread, they could probably take another airing.
I'm a man in both of them. One is quite brief. My men have been trudging through the snow (don't know where it's located .. could be Prussia or
in that region, just a feeling) for a long time. I suspect we're in retreat. We're exhausted. It's dark .. could be just pre-dawn. We come upon
a building, quite large .. possibly a deserted stately home. There's a flat roof and I don't know what they are ... battlements? Whatever the
case, around the flat roof (not totally flat, there are projections in the expanse) is a low-ish wall, maybe hip-height. The low wall goes up and
down, squarish, like the shape on the top of some castles. So we clamber up there, everyone finding his own way up. Some might get up there via the
internal. Don't know. The sequence is a bit choppy.
End result is, we're up there on the roof and we KNOW the enemy isn't far behind us. We can feel them. We've been just ahead of them for .. I
dont' know, could be days. There are a lot more of them. We're tired as hell, absolutely exhausted. Then the enemy start to become visible over a
snowy ridge. They're that close. We'd hoped they might miss us. The ridge is actually higher or around the same height as the roof we're on.
But then the land slopes down to the castle thing we're on, so the enemy becomes lower again as they approach. But when we first see them, they're
coming over the ridge at us. They know we're there. We know we're in for a fight and a half. We're on our last legs. It's a last ditch stand
atmosphere. And it's pretty clear the enemy knows we're done for. So that's the general air when the action starts.
I'm up on the roof, wearing a big heavy coat, about shin level. It's open, flapping. I'm roaring at my men .. telling them to get over to this
part, cover that area, etc. There's so much noise by the time the enemy hits. They're making noise, we're making noise. Gunshots on top of it.
I'm firing everywhere at once, wheeling around all the time. Enemy everywhere. A sinking feeling, seeing them coming over the ramparts or
battlements .. whatever that low wall on the roof is. We can't kill enough of them to stop their progress. Five drop, more come.
Then it's as if everything fades into the background. An enemy has his sights on me .. coming for me .. has selected me. I see him. We look at
each other. He's coming at me, pistol raised. Raise my pistol. I could have fired and dropped him. He's coming closer all the time. I have the
advantage .. I'm stationary, have him in my sights.
But I don't fire. I see his face, see him getting closer and closer, running awkwardly at me on the uneven surface. That slow-motion thing has
kicked in. Time just stretches. Seems to take forever for his feet to hit the ground ... lift ... another step. All slowed down. Then it gets
normal again. The time to fire has passed. He's almost on me. I'm so sick of it all, so sick of fighting, worrying, killing, all of it. Tired to
the bone and mentally just want an end. I lift the gun to my own head and fire.
The other one starts off quite nice. Gorgeous afternoon, grassy hillsides -- gently-shaped, all sort of converging and sloping down to what I later
discover is a little river bed. I could draw it better than I can explain it.
Winding in and around the hills is a road. There are groups of cyclists making their way up. Every now and then some stop, take in the view, then
continue. Family groups and couples are all over the hillsides. There are trees here and there, casting shade. More trees towards the tops of the
hills. It's idyllic, really lovely. And the atmosphere is wonderful .. one of the best I can remember at any time. Sometimes I remember this
scene, just for the pleasure of that atmosphere and scenery. People having a wonderful day in a very special place.
Then it changes suddenly and dramatically. At first, not everyone notices. But one by one, the panic spreads. I see people leap up from their picnic
blankets and grab their children. Others look around, startled, unsure.
What's happened is, official looking vehicles have parked on the roadway, above most of the people. Officers and men in uniforms get out. Trucks
bearing more of these military types pull up behind the first. At the beginning, it's not too bad .. the military people study the scene. Then, all
of a sudden, it's mayhem. The military are running down the slopes, some of them have guns in their hands.
Everyone on the hillsides is now running hither and thither. I don't know who I am or anything about 'me'. But I'm a survivor, obviously. In
fact, I'm ashamed of who 'I' was in this event, because I didn't help anyone. Others were helping each other, but I didn't. But then again,
I took in the scene. I was to the left of a lot of it, under some trees, away from the main gatherings of people having picnics. So I saw it all
unfold, saw the trucks arrive, saw people become scared and then start to run away, to try to hide. It gives me an advantage. I see people shot and
fall. I knew it was bad, but didn't know what it was about.
I run down where everyone else is running, towards the river bed at the bottom. On the other side of the river bed, the land rises steeply, lots of
rock cliff things and deep tree cover. I run along the river bed, following the others. See some fall. Don't stop to help them. Survive.
See some cave indentations in the rock wall, further along the river bed and around a bit of a bend. I get up there. See people scared and running.
I say nothing. They might look at me and give away my hiding place. Gun shots, lots of them. Bodies lying all over. I remain undiscovered.
Next ... I see a convoy of flat-bed trucks with railings around the sides. They're filled with the people who'd been rounded-up. Trucks come to a
4-way crossroad. Drab, wooden buildings. Looks Russian or similar. Air of deep depression, even when I remember it in order to describe it here.
Don't have room to describe the military's uniform, but they are very well-tailored, the officers. Peaked caps. Badges. Has a relatively 'recent'
feeling . 20th century I think.