The more my good friend Joe kept insisting that we motorcycle out to the Little Bighorn Battlefield in Montana, the more I insisted that I had little interest in going there. To humor him, I finally assented and we made plans to go. A dear friend at work who has been there couldn’t wait to hear what happened when I visited the site and I assured her that her glee and anticipation were for naught. This was going to be a Joe thing, not a Scott thing. Yeah, right!
With a great sense of adventure and camaraderie, four of us departed Washington State astride our motorcycles. We journeyed for three days to reach the battlefield. On the morning of the fourth day, we rode about half an hour to reach this national monument and the closer we got, the more I felt myself tighten up psychically. As I dismounted in the parking lot, I found myself using strictly my five physical senses and my conscious mind to explore the museum. We listened to a lecture given by a park ranger and then decided to walk down to the river where the Native Americans had been camped at the time of the battle.
Lenny grabbed an interpretive guide and was educating us as we stopped at each marker along the way. This path retraced the route some of Custer’s soldiers used to probe the Indian encampment and to subsequently retreat from once the Indians responded violently to protect their families. Halfway down, we noticed that a rain storm was imminent and Joe and I were not prepared for that so we retreated ourselves while Lenny and Vince continued on down. Joe and I returned to the museum and heard another lecture or two.
We then headed up to the monument erected to mark the last stand of Custer and his men. I scanned the engraved names on the monument to see if I recognized any of them but I didn’t. I then stood at the fence at the edge of the hill. On the slope just below were the many headstones marking where Custer and his men fell. I felt compelled to learn more of what really happened here so I grounded myself and used Earth energy to extend my consciousness into the Astral realm. White Elk, my spiritual teacher, has been training me extensively to do this without entering a trance state so I quickly expanded my mind to “see” the astral and the physical simultaneously.
My conscious mind was not the least bit prepared for what happened next. I immediately became aware of a number of white men in astral form, ghosts, and they turned to me as they became aware of my presence. I linked with them empathetically and I could feel their confusion and fear and their relief and excitement that someone had come to help them. Standing in my time and their time simultaneously, I could sense the span of time between us but to them, the battle had just recently occurred. They began approaching me and my conscious mind was unsure what to do but then my training with White Elk kicked in and I instinctually took action.
As the first man came to me, I lovingly projected energy into his astral form which elevated him from a ghostly, physical form into a etheric form of pure light. As I did this, a huge opening appeared in the sky to my right and a beautiful, divine light radiated from it. The man before me rose into sky and went into that portal. I knew that he had just gone to the same place that I had been during my near-death experience, a place of Love, comfort and Divine assistance. I repeated this for each man and I recall seeing about a dozen of them before I was through.
I’m not sure how long all this took but my friends weren’t tugging on my sleeve saying it was time to go so it couldn’t have been too long. My conscious mind rebounded and reeled from the implications. It questioned why it had not been informed of this event and I smirked. It had been resisting the idea of coming here all along and it would have been filled with objections and fearful notions had it been told more. I could intuitively sense that this “project” had been planned for quite some time and that I had superconsiously been actively involved in planning it. My conscious mind was the last project participant to be notified, rightfully so, and once it relented and let things happen, I felt a huge cosmic “clunk” as it all fell into place. I marveled at the complexity of the whole event and how White Elk, my coach, had sent me in to the game strategizing that I’d respond and perform as I’d been trained. I felt both manipulated and yet amazed that I was able to play my part in facilitating this healing. How little I trust my abilities!
We mounted our bikes and slowly rode out the five mile road that traverses the length of the battlefield. I brought up the rear and as I rode along past more gravestones, more men came floating toward me. I again repeated the exercise of elevating them and I could feel their relief. I wondered about the absence of Native Americans but I detected that their burial ceremonies gave them closure and saved them from being stuck in ghostly form. I also wondered if I should stop and really be thorough in looking for other lost souls but I was told that if others remained, it was because they were too fearful still and would not be able to respond to me. That gave me closure and I stopped worrying.
As we returned to the Visitor’s Center, we passed a sign across the road from the monument stating that a Native American memorial was going to be erected in the near future. We went back into the Center and Lenny and I saw a diorama of the planned memorial. It mentioned how it would use sacred geometry to allow healing to take place and that a “spirit gate” would be erected to help the ghosts to find their way! I jumped back like I’d touched a live wire and wanted to excitedly tell everyone in the room that I’d just seen the spirit gate in action but my conscious mind thought better of that. I calmed down and wandered into the gift shop. I bought an official t-shirt as a souvenir and as I held it in my hands, I wondered how many had come here before me to heal and how many more it would take to complete that healing. */:-)