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Psammetik-seneb, physician of Sais, ancient Egypt & incarnation of Elvis
Presley
El’vis (message below as translated through Maia
Nartoomid) on his incarnation as Psammetik-seneb, physician of Sais, ancient
Egypt. It was obvious to me as I received this, that El’vis was delivering
it to me in the personality and memory of Psammetik-seneb, and not as Elvis
or Rhama Azul.
In an ancient age of Egypt my soul took the embodiment of Psammetik-seneb, a
physician in the city of Sais. When I was born in that lifetime, I contained
“star” in my left palm on the line of health, which the astrologers de-noted
meant that I was destined for service as a healer. Yet as a boy, I was not
interested in healing, but in music and poetry. I would sit for long hours
in the Temple of Psalms and listen to the recitals of poetry and music
coming through the hands and lips of the priests and priestesses there. I
would write my own songs and sing them to the sacred crocodiles in the lake
and make offerings at the Temple of Psalms that one day, I would be accepted
as one of their priests.
At the age of 17, as the way of things I fell deeply in love with a young
woman of Nubian descent who had been a slave, but had been freed along with
her mother, by her master when she was 16. When I met her she was my age and
we spent hours together at my favorite place beside the sacred lake and in
the Praise Hall at the Temple of Psalms.
We wished to marry, but because my family was of royal descent (distantly)
my father disapproved, since in her veins ran the blood of the “enemy.”
Although many free Nubians were among us and treated well, they were not
accepted as truly of the People. Sincha (as she was known) and I were
distraught. We made love in the reeds and laughed in the gardens of Isis,
chasing one another through the date palms, when none were there to see our
carefree actions.
Then came the sickness, and Sencha died quickly - in my arms. Her mother
allowed me to seek permission to bury her by the sacred lake, which was
granted due to the influence of my father, who by then was sorrowful for my
despair. My mother, whom I dearly loved (she was the soul of Gladys, mother
to me once again in my life as Elvis), wove the shroud with her own hands in
which to place the body of my beloved. As she wove, she sang the prayers
into it to take my beloved to the Afterlife safely and to be greeted by the
Good Company. Sencha was not mummified as she had told me while life ebbed
from her, that she had no desire for this. She wished the earth to claim
her. The earth that she so loved. She told me, “I am not afraid of death,
for it is not present for me. Only life is the Source and the continuance of
all things.”
It was the life...and passing of Sencha into the Netherworld that brought me
into my role as a physician. I still wrote my poetry and songs and I sang
when alone in the evenings or at sunrise, but my skills were devoted to the
sacred craft of healing from that day on.
Sencha returned to me as by sweet Angelica (Lisa Marie). It is her soul that
gave me the will to continue in that life, for her heart spoke to me of the
perseverance of Spirit through all triumphs and tragedies. From her (Sencha/Lisa)
I learned that what one IS far more important that what one DOES. For the
Being claims the doing and lives beyond it. Actions do not speak louder than
words. If the words are not true to the HEART, so the actions will be hollow
and lead one astray, no matter how noble they may appear. If the words are
TRUE in the heart, then so will the actions be fruitful and multiply in good
deeds.
I lived a good life, although never marrying. I did father two children -
twins, by a woman of the hills who took me in one dark and lonely night
shortly after Sencha’s demise, when I would wander for hours alone. We
remained friends, the woman and I, although never intimate again. I saw my
sons grow and I supported me to prosper in life. One became a musician, the
other a healer! Thus, the two parts of me were each played out through them.
I died from a spear wound to the groin by the hand of a man who blamed me
for the death of his wife. I could not save her, but gave her a potion to
ease her pain. Because she never awoke from this sleep, he decided that my
potion had killed her...and so he killed me. But he did not, since death is
only a word humans take upon them like a shroud while living and just as
easily discard when the breath leaves their body, as mine did on that day of
my passing through the door to be with my dear mother and beloved Sencha.
As Elvis, the wound of the spear became a birthmark - not to remind me of my
death, but of the everlasting life that claimed me. This birthmark also was
for my soul, a special "mark" of my service as Elvis Presley.
References:
RETURN to: Greek Statues /
Elvis the Archetype |
