I know it is hard to believe, but it was not my intention to remember James these days. I wanted to keep him present in my mind as an inspiration for my new projects, but I was not expecting at all there were still important things to unveil. While I was writing my most recent entry, a new forum member suggested a shared meditation. Six people got together and we did it. The energy movement was spectacular, as usually happens in these sessions. And I guess this, combined with the yoga I practice almost in a daily basis, made that new emotions and memories related with my life as James, started to appear once more. Least of all, I expected a great validation would stir everything inside of me again. You never get used to this type of validations. Even if you have been remembering for years, they shake you up again, lest you fall into the illusion that death is real and everything ends with it…
First thing that has come to me is a very clear flash, it almost looked like a scene in a movie: a cannonball goes through a wooden wall on my left side, tearing off a lot of splinters with an indescribable booming and passing right in front of me. I am in a room, all made of wood around me (not exactly in the hold, but in a lower part of the ship). I feel a terrible pain in my right knee, I don’t know if I have lost my leg. I know there’s a leak somewhere and I think we’re going to sink.
(Regression 30-12-2011. This is the first memory I had of my life as James. I am always impressed by the accuracy of the memories when I compare them with the chronicles I could read much later. Then I knew absolutely nothing about my biography, obviously.)
At the beginning, as usually occurrs to me, there are only physical feelings. I started to feel very cold (which I don’t think it corresponds with the room temperature), sometimes I didn’t know if it was cold or anxiety as it came from very deep inside me rather than from outside (I don’t know if I am explaining myself). Suddenly I felt a very strange pain, like many simultaneous small pricks, on the left side of my face, between cheek and jaw. Then I noticed something on my right leg. It was not exactly pain, and I couldn’t see the injury physically and in all detail, though I did try. I rather “felt” something was going quite wrong and knew I was losing a lot of blood. Indeed, I think it is possible I bled to death rather than drowned. That would explain the cold, as the body goes into shock when there is a lot of blood loss. Apart from all these pains, the shellfire, and the wooden “room” I’m in, I also see some stairs and a trapdoor. And I see water is leaking in, though I don’t know if it is coming from this little room or another one.
I try to go back in time to clarify who I am. The clothes are like the ones I described previously: white stockings, tight trousers with a shiny cloth, some kind of waistcoat with long buttons (I just remembered some buttons of a coat I had as a child in my current life… they could be similar, like a long piece of wood joined to a cord that goes through the buttonhole), and the jacket or blue “justacorps”. I also wear a hat. When I walk I lean on a thin stick, at first I thought it was the saber, but no, I think it was a stick. Grey wig. Light eyes. I feel my left arm a bit stiff or sore, as if I had degenerative arthritis or something like that. Sometimes the word “commander” comes to me, more than admiral. And I would almost say I am convinced I am English. We are in waters near Corsica. I’m going to die on battle, and I feel proud of that.
In any case, I remember it all began because the enemy ships were faster. There were three of them, and we got surrounded. I see our cannons firing, I see how the gunpowder is loaded and the cannonball goes inside the barrel, and how the fuse is lighted. There was no way to escape. I think our enemies could be French or maybe Portuguese, curiously the Spanish don’t come to my mind. At some point a member of my crew asks me for orders. I tell him “to entrust himself to God”. It is curious to me this religious way of speaking.
(Regression 16-1-2012. From this excerpt I now highlight the mention of the Portuguese. I know from the chronicles that at the beginning of my career I was sailing off the Portugal coast, and besides their presence at the sea and their involvement with slave trade went hand in hand with other countries. I also suspect they inspired me more respect than the Spanish.)
First I saw myself in the small compartment, after the cannon fire. I think I cannot move. I would say I am bleeding to death, and I know this is the end. I order my men to move out, there is nothing else to do. I think in my mind: “God save us all”. Regarding the battle, I couldn’t clarify anything else. I only had an isolated flash of the French ships getting closer, I am looking through the telescope on deck and I guess waiting for the Admiral’s instructions.
[Regression 17-1-2012. Here I am amazed the tale is so close to the real battle].
The day of the battle in the ship. I started to feel a strange pain, as if something sharp has hurt my neck, the wound is bleeding but it is not deep, I have to plug it with my handkerchief. It is clear something is wrong, but I don’t see a lot of turmoil, I only “sense” the loud noise of the cannon fire and I feel we are trapped between two ships and there is not much we can do. I am looking for someone, I go into a cabin, I see a crucifix hanging from a chair. Men are asking for orders, I go to the artillery room to help them, they have to keep shooting. But it is not here where I am wounded. I go to a lower room, I ask myself what I am doing here and the answer I get is “I have come looking for gunpowder”. I see square windows in the back, the place is narrower than the artillery room, and while I am doing whatever I am doing, I know the situation looks pretty bad. I think about my wife and kids, the idea of not seeing them again makes me sad, but I can’t despair now. It is then that the cannonball comes through the wall splintering the wood and passes in front of me. I don’t think this is what causes the mortal wound, but a piece of wood (this was not too clear anyway). The only thing I know for sure is that I won’t be able to go out again, I am bleeding on the floor and start getting get sick.
(Regression 7-12-2012. This regression was quite confusing as there was not too much visual or cognitive connection, the information didn’t flow too well. Even so, the details are impressive. As someone who doesn’t know anything about ships or sailing in this life, it was impossible for me to imagine that a cannonball could send pieces of wood flying. That was until, by chance (I think someone posted it in a naval battle), I saw the following video. Much later I watched the movie Master & Commander and then I understood much better:
With a shocking clarity, comes to me the image of the ship compartment in which I die. No, first of all there was a very weird pain in my left knee with no reason, a pain that came from inside, as I usually say… I see myself again sitting on the floor, I don’t see it minute by minute, as I guess it happened so fast my brain didn’t even have time to register it, but suddenly I see myself on the ground stunned, I see a trail of blood on the wood that goes from my body to the front and the right, and I begin to feel more. I even see a little of the wound in the leg… and then feelings that it is the end and everything is over. Again feelings of sadness for my wife and my son, and also frustration because I fought all my life for others… and at the end I gain nothing.
(Regression 18-11-2013.)
I was too tired and with a bit of a headache to try anything similar to a regression, so I just sat down and tried to meditate a bit. I was almost falling asleep when suddenly I felt a weird pain in my right knee, hard to describe, but it was as if it had exploded. That startled me and made me more alert. Then I started to get some flashes from what it seemed my last days of life. All flashes were from a first-person perspective:
- I just had the feeling that my knee was bleeding, my leg was kind of dangling, and my white trousers were getting humid and red. I'm half-lying on the floor, as if I have fallen and I am trying to get up, a bit confused. As usual, I don't see the injuries.
- I was trying to get more visions or at least more information, but instead the emotions got stronger. I just know too many men are falling, and I feel a lot of grief for them. It is not that I feel guilty or in any way responsible (for which I am thankful), I am just so sad and frustrated. It is exactly that moment when you realize there is nothing else to do and you can only pray to reach another day. I am aware I might die, so I start to have glimpses of my wife and my life in Boston, as I think that was the best stage of my whole life.
(Regression 8-3-2016.)
Images of the final battle came to me. They would be the moments immediately following Matthews’ order of attack. I see myself in the helm, setting the course. Near the prow, to the right, I see a ship that must be the Namur. I was following it. At the left a Spanish one that must be the Real is getting closer. The courses are convergent. Matthews begins to shoot but he quickly passes and continues on. Then I reach the Real and start attacking in turn, they return fire and the hell begins. It was then that the other Spanish ships must have arrived and started attacking me as well. A great damage is made on the sails, on the hull, on my men. At some point I leave the helm and command a sailor (I guess the pilot) to stay the course. I don’t cease to shout to keep firing. We are getting closer to the Namur and use the blunderbasses. For some reason I leave the deck and get down to the first level. Though I try to change this, I can’t. Something tells me what I remember is right, I didn’t stay on the deck. Someone tells me we are running out of gunpowder. They have to keep shooting, so I go to fetch it and go down to the storage room. It is then when the cannon fire comes. Here I felt again a kind of a stabbing pain on my neck, by the left side. It is very characteristic, I again think it was due to the splinters. And right after, it is as if I don’t remember. Next thing I see it is I am on the floor and I can’t get up.
(Regression 25-2-2017. Obviously here I had already read the subtleties of the battle, so my conscious mind is analyzing everything I see, but a memory is a memory, and something I have read keeps being something I read. As in some of the chronicles it is said I was on deck, I was doubting my memories. However, those memories were always consistent, so I think the chronicles are wrong. It always looks better to say the captain was fighting like a hero on the deck, rather than saying he was doing who knows what in a hold, maybe hiding like a coward?)
This is more or less what I had in my past life journal about my death as James, until less than a week ago. And when you think you don’t need anything else, surprise comes…
Part 2.