One of my favourite things about journeying into the Akashic field is being able to observe past lives, (or concurrent lives if we’re going to be pedantic), and immersing myself for a few moments in times and lives so very different from my own.
It’s fascinating to glimpse these lives, and they make every Akashic reading an adventure into the unseen, the unrecorded, or the forgotten.
Some lives stand out more than others; some are remarkable, some are mundane. Some stay with me, some are soon forgotten. Some fascinate me completely, and will have me thinking about life and the universe and humans and the in-between for days. Some remind me of what we have lost with “modern” living.
One such life was on the edge of a forest in the far, far North, in lands so vast I found it hard to comprehend the distances, coming as I do from a tiny island. It was a time before machinery, before cities, at least in this particular part of the northern hemisphere. It was a time when most lived in settlements and small gatherings, where life was brutal and life and death hovered daily over the inhabitants. Here, fire was everything. No fire meant no life, and escaping the cold was an almost year-round task. Cold was the greatest enemy and fire the greatest gift. Fire was the currency embedded into the psyche of all, where a good fire meant life was assured for another day.
The toughness of these people was striking. They were so strong, lifting tree trunks with ease, walking for miles without tiring, fasting for days involuntarily. Living on the edge of existence, no one in this settlement lived to a great age, at most it was in the 50s. Cold, hunger, physical fatigue, injury, animal attack, or disease would liberate them before they reached twilight years.
But, beyond the difficulties I saw how incredible these humans were, with abilities most have lost in the here and now. An astonishing ability to connect with the world they inhabited. A connection that ran so deep, it was an integral part of who they were. They did not own the land, they were part of the land. The did not see the forest, the wilderness, or the animals as anything separate from them. It was all one existence. They were so in tune with their world that every rustle of a leaf told a story and every nuance of an animal’s call was a language easily translated.
Their intuitive abilities were like nothing I’ve ever seen. They knew danger before it found them, knew what weather was coming months in advance, knew always which way to walk even in unfamiliar territory. History records these people as near savages, when deep intelligence ran through their veins. No words, no reading, no writing, no numbers, at least not as we know them, yet erudite to their bones in knowledge of the world they live in. It was superhuman.
Imagine catching an animal scent in the air and knowing the exact species, age, sex, weight, size, and what the animal had been doing in that moment. Imagine hearing a bird call and heeding the subtle warning held within its tones. Imagine sitting with your back against a tree and feeling it growing. Imagine considering a blade of grass as vital to the world as you are. Life was about being alive. Every day was a march towards this life. Battle lines were drawn in this survival, and it was always survival of the fittest. I saw only small moments of relaxation or joy, mostly, it was a fierce determination to live.
I wouldn’t want this bare bones existence, or its harshness, but I do wonder how we can reawaken these extraordinary senses. Among us in small numbers are those that have never stopped accessing them, but for the majority? Buried as we are beneath layers of modernity, are these sharpened senses and intuitive skills lost to us now? Can we return to such living without the white knuckle ride of everyday survival? With enough stillness, enough divorce from technology, enough time spent in the natural world, can we restore our ancestral knowing of the world?
I wonder, can we be these superhuman once more?