In July last year, only some months had passed since I had had the first memories of my Cathar life. As at the beginning the word “Carcassonne” had turned up, it was quite obvious I could be talking of a Cathar life. But I had abstained completely from researching more. Then I received an unexpected message. A Serbian girl I had met in the forum Military Past Lives was visiting Madrid, and she asked me if we could arrange an appointment to meet each other. I could not miss the opportunity to know in person the supposed reincarnation of one of the most infamous personages of history, so I didn’t doubt a second. In the past we had exchanged messages about the Inquisition. I had shared some other detail of my life as a warrior monk, and she suspected she could have had some relation with the Inquisition. She was much more interested in history than I was. We talked about Templars and Cathars and the possibility I could have known some of the survivors of any of these groups in my life as a warrior monk. When she came to Madrid I told her what I was unveiling of my Cathar life. She asked me if I knew in which fortress my death had occurred. I told her I had no idea. Then she searched some pictures in her mobile phone and showed them to me without telling me where they had been taken. I was petrified. They looked so much like what I had seen in my memories. It was Montsegur.
My friend had also shown me pictures of Carcassonne, but those didn’t speak to me in any way, save the fact it is a beautiful medieval walled city with streets that might look like those I had seen in my memories. And he reported to me that Montsegur, back in that era, was governed by the viscounts of Carcassonne, and perhaps that was the reason the name rang a bell.
Yesterday night I returned to the last moments of this life. At first nothing came and I was getting tired, when suddenly I started to see myself as the same woman. It seems I am sitting on some kind of bench, there is no back. I only see a stone wall, typical of castles, in front of me, around three or four meters far, and at my right, where I would say there are more women. I wear the same tunic and over it some kind of cloak or blanket to protect me from the cold.
I would say it is night time and there are fewer and fewer of us left. I am there hieratical, with a straight back and staring at the wall, as if I were meditating or praying, trying to maintain serenity, but holding back my tears at the same time. Tension and anxiety keep growing because the waiting is distressing. I am awaiting death, of course. I wish that if my sons are to be killed, at least they won’t suffer. I don’t care about the cold or the hunger anymore, because I know everything will be over soon.
Finally it is my turn. I am nearly in a trance. Some men come and take me slowly to the place of the execution, which I don’t get to see clearly. I don’t know if it is a bit farther, or if we are in an enclosed area and they have to take me out (I would say it is this latter). Then I see my second son is there in the distance, I don’t see him too clearly either, but I would say he is guarded by two men and he is crouched or knelt down. I try to transmit him what I feel with my gaze, as I keep feeling guilty of the situation. My eyes are filled with tears. I also realize my eldest son is not there, and that brings me more anguish, I wonder what they have done with him. I feel I was left with the doubt about which was his destiny. He would have fought, that’s for sure, and I think to myself: “Don’t fight, if you do you will suffer more”.
I suddenly feel I am trembling. I am scared to death, of course, my legs don’t sustain me, and I am barely aware of the position they force me to adopt. I incline over something, almost certainly I look at my left (to the side where my son is). I suspect it wasn’t a clean cut, as for a millisecond in the regression I had the feeling I got to feel the blood gushing out, before the second and final blow. [This time I think the cut was on the left side, I didn’t get to see the instrument they used, but I must say I have had issues in the neck the last few days].
I feel my eldest son had more doubts about the religion we professed and that is why we used to argue more often, whereas the second one would take it all more seriously.
I am surprised by the serenity with which I confront those moments, it is as if I had accepted this was going to happen. There is an instant where I do rebel internally, and think we shouldn’t have climbed up here, the fortress has become a death trap. We should have fled, or perhaps face them in our homes as I proposed in the beginning, it is always better to die in an open field rather than locked up this way. But I don’t blame anyone for this end, nor God nor anyone. I think that at some point the idea came to me that “they” are the Devil, so their way of acting can’t be a different one, it is not a surprise to me.
Right after my death, at seeing myself from the outside, I had the impression it was a structure especially designed to behead people, not just a piece of wood with a hollow to rest the neck or something like that (??).
(Regression 13-12-2017).
Well, not much came to me, only several flashes, and not much came to me about the content of those arguments, but I write down the impressions I had.
It seems religion was very important to me. It was what I had been taught since I was a child too, I grew up with it, and I didn’t even question whether those teachings were truthful or not. I firmly believe that is the right thing to do, I have a lot of faith, and I want everyone around to follow the same precepts.
First I saw myself with my husband, a man that seems affable, a simpleton if anything, a mundane person, but jovial. We seemed to be inside the house, there is considerable light. He is saying to me that I must let Dominic breathe a bit, that I must not nag him so much with the subject of religion. I know I do it for his sake, I am convinced of my beliefs, and I only want him to do what (I consider) is right so that everything goes well after our deaths. [Yes, the thought that came to me didn’t seem to be related to committing sins as the Catholic church posits, and so earn your salvation or not. It is as if I take for granted the fact we all are going to survive death, but if you don’t lead a life as you must, it might be that future in the afterlife is not going to be as good as we want it to be. Something like that].
When I thought I already grew up with those religious teachings, a scene came to me where I was a child. We are also inside a house. I see in the foreground, at the height of my eyes, a pair of bare and dirty feet of a corpse that is lying on a long wooden table. On the other side, near the dead man’s head, there are two men. I think one is my father and the other one could be my uncle. It seems they are doing some type of ritual, and I am there just seeing it all, without great concerns, but rather curious about it. I would say one of them is wearing a medal (wooden?) hung around his neck, and he puts it down on the dead man’s heart, then the throat, the lips, the eyes... while they recite some words. [No idea if this could be related to the ritual I know Cathars used to do with the dead].
Then I had another flash in which I seemed to be working with a loom (I see wool of various colors, one of them red), Dominic was toying around near, maybe preparing saddlebags or goods to go out, and in the meantime we were talking about something. It also came to me the flash of a not too thick book with leather covers, which must be our “holy book” and I know sometimes I take it to show my son: “Look, here it is. This is what one must do”, but I suppose Dominic thinks I am annoying and doesn’t pay me any heed. I know in one instance he asks me straight away if I think religion is above family, and there he shocked me a bit indeed. I tell him no. It would really hurt me to see him drifting away from me because of that matter, and I get his message. No. I think to myself that God wants us all to live in harmony and I understand I must not be so strict with him.
My second son, however, doesn’t worry me so much. He is more obedient and doesn’t question the religious teachings. I sense sometimes they also argue with each other.
Finally, I think that at some point Dominic also brought up the question whether it is worth adhering to this religion, but it wasn’t clear to me if he said so because we are perfectly aware we can be considered heretics and therefore persecuted. Anyway, the answer to that question, at least in that moment, clearly was: “Yes”. Because it is the right thing. This comes to me now: “Because we are in the right path and not the others.” Which, seen from my current perspective, is the same mistake all the religions in the world make again and again…
(Regression 14-12-2017).