Slave No More

For whatever reason, it’s not my habit to seek clarity on a relationship until it becomes evident that there are root issues stemming from the karmic. Such is the case with my older step-sister in my current life.

I cannot over emphasize the profundity associated with this past life recall as no other relationship to date has created such a lasting impact on my life. Although, being the younger sibling I never questioned the methods of the many dysfunctional situations of my childhood — I just thought that was how everyone’s family life transpired. That is, until in my 30’s I began to wake up to realize that maybe I shouldn’t keep falling back into the old routine, as it were … particularly since I was the one who always ended up on the bottom.

So — in this lifetime I find myself a male slave in some early Roman era. As was the custom of the time, I was castrated at a very young age to ensure loyalty and to prevent potential conflicts of interests among wives of any potential master. I grew up to be a very large man, a fact which brought me much respect – particularly among my peers, and gave the people I served a sense of protection. And so, as the story goes; it was my duty and honor to serve a wealthy high ranking man and his wife with utmost care and attention, which I did for many years.

These people were respected in society as were many slave owners of the time. The master I served conducted successful business trafficking in slaves from all over the world, a fact which made me an invaluable link to a growing undercurrent of unrest among slaves, which developed at that time.

My most vivid memory of this recall happens as I accompany  the wife of my master to some extravagant event happening at an open-air arena. Being someone of high regard on the social scene she is seated among the higher class spectators in the upper most regions of the stadium – but in good view of the floor of the event center. My fellow slaves and I stand well to the back, but in clear sight of our masters, should they require any small thing while watching the enfolding spectacle. From my vantage point I can see her clearly; hair carefully and artfully plaited with strands of gold and jewels elegantly intertwined. The most luxurious fabric makes up her dress and no expense has been spared for the gold and precious gems worn on her arms and fingers. She is in her element among her peers and relishes her station as wife of the slave trader above all other things in her life.

The Slave MarketAs the most trusted and valued slave of the household it was my duty to oversee the preparation of meals – to ensure that the food was fresh, and that no one was tainting the food product with poison. And, without turning this short story into a long novel, let me just skip to the chase by explaining that over the course of time the slave rebellion took on a fever pitch. Wealthy slave owners became very wary of slaves they did not know so many slaves were summarily relegated to outlying estates or traded as part of an effort to ‘downsize’ any potential threat. I, however — held my position without wavering, since over the years I had, as I mentioned before, come to be the most trusted and reliable servant.

The underground leaders directing the uprising of the enslaved population eventually determined that I held the key in turning the tide in favor of the demands of slaves, since my owner was one of the most prominent importers and therefore, abuser of our kind. Ultimately the consensus became that this man must be eliminated – so that our cause could be validated and taken seriously, and – of course, it was determined that I should be the one to carry out their plot. Somewhat reluctantly I assumed the mission, and I conspired to poison my master at the next meal.

The plot to eliminate the slave-trading owner unfolded exactly according to plan, and within due course his wife realized who the culprit must be, and she was not pleased – to say the least. With the death of her husband, she not only risked losing her station and wealth, but the roof over her head and all that she held ‘necessary’ to a satisfactory life. I am summoned to her presence, and without much preamble I am dispatched via decapitation with a very sharp sword. I can feel her seething anger well after my head leaves my body …

—-

This story gave me much needed clarity and profound understanding about a relationship that had plagued me for most of my life. Having this kind of retrospective vision of how personalities are formed through lifetimes also gave me the opportunity to let go of the role of underdog that was assigned to me through birth into this family. In essence I have been empowered by this recall to allow myself to be more fully who I am now – rather than someone subject to retributions that will never be payable in this – or any other – lifetime.

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