by Bob Frank
“I don’t know if they are secrets of the universe, but they are supposed to be something really big. Anyway, I got a bit greedy and started asking my regression subjects if they knew of any huge hidden secrets, bigger than anything imaginable. I was really looking for a big stash, like a lost shipment of jewels or maybe a proverbial king’s ransom hidden deep in Nottingham Forest. However, all I got were consistent references to hidden secrets, not monetary treasures. Some of them would talk of hidden treasures but when I dug in deeper, they really meant secret knowledge of some kind. Most of the regressions came from lives that were lived between one thousand and two thousand years ago, and mostly in the Middle East, Western Asia and Europe. Only a few lives less than one thousand years old made reference to these hidden secrets. It was as if the secrets disappeared, or were forgotten about.”
“Alright, now I sense that you don’t know a whole lot more about the secrets than I do. So, what about Apollonius?”
“This is where Apollonius comes in. Several times I got references from regressed souls who pointed at Apollonius’ soul as some kind of originator, collector or protector of the secrets. I don’t have many more details because I couldn’t get these souls to give me more than that. They kept talking about the secrets as if they were some kind of hidden writings or knowledge. Some called it a divine wisdom or referred to ‘seven secrets’. The souls who referred to the secrets often talked about ancient Kabbalah or Zoroastrianism or Buddhism, but I could never get it pinned down. Some regressions to more recent lives made vague references to the Masons and the Theosophists in particular. Souls with older lives talked about linkages with the Abrahamic religious sects, Indian mahatmas, and yogis, and Buddhist high priests of some sort. I’d even gotten linkages to Chaldean Oracles from Babylonia in today’s Iraq. Some spoke of Eastern Initiates or Ancients who were clear — the secrets should not be released to mankind. It’s all a bit of a mish-mash, but the common thread is that there are some big secrets hidden out there, somewhere.”
“Well at least you gave me more to go on. Now I know how you got the last sets of regression scripts.”
“But I am certain there are a couple of copies of these secrets stashed out there. I got one lead that alluded to the Vatican having a copy of the secrets. But if that exists, it’s unlikely anyone will ever see it. I don’t think they would even acknowledge, let alone release, any secrets of the universe they might have.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s get back to the regression. If Iqbal’s soul lived as Apollonius, hopefully we will find it a life or two earlier in time.”
Chapter 3
They moved back to the regression room and settled into their positions on either side of Iqbal. Shali commenced with the next sequence of scripts and took Iqbal to the next life in the regression.
“You are back in the hall of doors. Walk down the hallway and find the door that goes to the life you lived just before Philostratus. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Shali waited five seconds. “Do you see that door?”
Clay shot a micro-pulse to the balls of Iqbal’s feet. “Yes, I am there.”
“Open the door, walk through it, and take several steps further. Look at everything around you. Look up and see if there is sky, or whether you are inside of a building. Now look to the left and then to the right. Look down at the ground, and at your feet and your legs. Look at your hands. Notice what type of clothes you are wearing. Now describe everything you see.”
Iqbal took a long, slow, deep breath. Shali and Clay saw him slowly twist his body slightly. Ten seconds and still nothing happened. Clay gave a shot of micro-pulse to Iqbal’s feet. His feet made a small but noticeable twitch. Clay then shot a boost of pulse to his shoulders. The back of Iqbal’s neck contracted slightly, but another five seconds went by with no response. Then Clay shot a pulse to the Third Eye. Iqbal immediately tilted his head backward as his inner self was released from the subconscious mind.
“I see old stone buildings. The boys — the boys are playing. We’re playing with sticks and a ball of some kind. It’s like a leather ball. We are playing something like stick-ball. I like this. I miss this. I am happy now.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m ten years old.” A big smile comes across Iqbal’s face. “I will soon be eleven. These are good times. My family is content; food is plentiful.”
“What year is it? Can you tell what year this is?”
Iqbal took a large breath and hesitated a moment. Clay shot another short pulse to the Third Eye.
“100. The year is 101.”
“BC or AD?”
“101 BC.”
“Where are you? What is the name of the city or country that you are in? Can you tell what part of the world you are in?”
“Babylon. My home is Babylon. Oh, such a beautiful city.”
“What is your name? What do people call you? What do your friends, the other boys, call you?”
“Allal, or Hallal. It is something like that.”
Shali translated for Clay. An inquisitive look came across his face. He shrugged his shoulders and whispered, “We overshot. Apollonius was born about 40 AD, one hundred forty years after this boy was born. We have to move one more life forward in time, if, of course, there was a life there. But he seems to have liked this life, so let him experience it a bit before we try to move forward one. This will build trust that should help us with the Akashic records later.”
Shali nodded. She walked Iqbal’s soul through another ten minutes, re-living two different progressive ages in the life. All were pleasant and happy times for this soul, and he continued yammering about his life as a young adult until he suddenly exclaimed in a loud and excited voice,
Shali broke out in a huge burst of laughter. Clay looked at her with puzzled eyes and asked, “Come on, what did he say? It had to be good.”
She continued giggling as Iqbal excitedly rambled on. She glanced at Clay with a blushing smirk. “He just had a fling with a beautiful young woman. He exclaimed something like, ‘Whoa momma, what a hot Hebe chick,’ and then he went on to describe their intense, intimate sexual encounters in explicit detail.” She paused as Iqbal continued replaying his previous life and then he laughed out loud again. Clay shook his head and smiled with a slight look of envy.
After five more minutes of excited descriptions, Iqbal slowed down his pace and paused. Shali moved him through two memorable periods in this particular life and then jumped ahead.
“Move forward to a time of significant importance to this life. Move forward as many years as you like and tell me what you see. Look around at your the surroundings. What do you see?”
Iqbal’s shoulders rolled back in the chair. “Whoa. I am older now. I am sixty — no, sixty-five years old. I am a student.” Then, with some hesitation and confusion he asked, “How can I be a student? Yes, I am a student. I am not in Babylon. I am in Jerusalem, now, studying.”
“What are you studying at that age?”
“The Bible. No, the Torah. I am studying the Torah. Well, no — not really. I have studied here for over twenty years, now. I am not really a student, but I see myself as a student. There is so much to learn.”
“What else do you do besides study? What are you known for? What have you accomplished — or what do you plan to accomplish — with your knowledge?”
“I confronted the Sanhedrin. It was difficult and there was much conflict, but I showed them that they were wrong.” Iqbal’s expression became filled with anger, and his demeanor became almost violent. He clenched his fists and yelled, “You must put an end to this. It is wrong. You cannot please God by killing innocent people.”
Shali touched Iqbal’s hand and firmly said, “Do not go into that life. Only view that life from a distance. Tell me about it, but do not enter it. Do you understand?”
Iqbal’s demeanor calmed. “Yes, I understand.” After a brief pause, he continued. “It was a long debate — many years long. But I f
inally convinced them.”
“Tell me more about this Sanhedrin. And what did you convince them of?”
“It’s like a court. They are rabbis. Yes, they were like judges. It was a court of judges in Jerusalem. There were maybe twenty or twenty-five of them, all rabbi judges and all elders; wise and experienced elders. I convinced them to stop sacrificing humans. Human sacrifices are so wrong. They sacrificed humans for no reason, just on a whim. It served no purpose. After several years, they finally agreed with me, and they mandated to stop all human sacrifices.”
Shali looked toward Clay and gave him a quick translation. A puzzled look came across his face. He bit the bottom right corner of his mouth as he went into a state of mental recall, and then he nodded for her to continue while he turned his attention to the laptop. He began searching the Internet for who this person might really be.
“Were you happy or proud about stopping the sacrifices of humans?”
“Yes, very much. But that is only the beginning. There is so much more to do.”
“Tell me more about yourself.”
“I was a happy man. I seldom got angry. I was very meek, very mild and peace-loving in this life. That was what I was known for.”
Shali continued for several more minutes before she translated again, looking for guidance from Clay.
Clay whispered, “Let’s move to the end of this life. Find out how he wrapped up the life and what his big lessons were. We’ve got something here, but I don’t know what. I found a few people who this might be, but we’ll have to see. Try to get his age and the year he died.”
Shali nodded acknowledgment and started the wrap-up script. “Move forward in time to the last moments of this life.” She waited. “Are you there?”
There was a long pause and the expression on Iqbal’s face became calm and relaxed. He drew a deep breath of air and slowly exhaled, as if he was totally relaxed and complacent.
“Yes. I am near the end, now. I am at peace. It is so peaceful.”
“Tell me what you see. Where are you located? And who is with you?”
“I am in a bed. My body is tired and old. It is time to leave this body.” He paused. “There are many people with me here. My grandchildren and great-grandchildren and my great-great-grandchildren. But they are all so old. I do not understand. There are many rabbis here. They are so sad.” Iqbal then spoke out loud, as if addressing an audience, “No, absolutely not. Do not be sad. No one is to be sad.”
Shali asked, “How old are you? What year is it and what city are you in?”
Iqbal’s present-day Islamic context poked itself into the view of this life. “Oh Allah, Allah, Allah, I am very old: one hundred eighteen or one hundred nineteen years old. That is so old. It is about 10 AD. I am in Jerusalem now. I’ve been a leader for the Jewish people, or at least that is how they see me.”
Clay slowly grew a huge smile of satisfaction. He nodded as Iqbal continued.
“They like my sayings, my phrases. I am quoted by many people. We are joking, now. My rabbi friends are telling me jokes about the sayings that I have made famous. I am laughing hard, but it hurts my chest when I laugh. My chest hurts, even though I like to laugh.” Iqbal actually chuckled out loud. He was obviously enjoying this part of the death, despite the pain.
Clay’s face opened up and he leaned over to Shali. “It’s Hillel. This is Hillel. A number one, big time Jew. He called himself Allal or Hallal, but today he is known as Hillel; the pronunciation changed a bit over time.”
Shali furrowed her brow in question. “I really don’t know much about this Hillel. What can you give me?”
“Hillel was a famous Jewish figure who lived about the time of Jesus
Christ,” he whispered in an excited tone. “The Golden Rule is thought to be his, but he phrased it something like, ‘What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow’, or something like that. He is known for a whole bunch of other heavily quoted sayings throughout history. There was even some historical speculation that Hillel’s soul may have been reincarnated from Moses. Their personalities were similar, as were their purported styles and their fundamental beliefs in peaceful living. They both lived to be one hundred ten or one hundred twenty years old. After we wrap up this life, let’s move back in time to see if this is Moses’ soul. If this is really Hillel, which I think it is, we’ve got a great find. Just think of where we could branch off from here. The pod — think of the soul pod we’d have access to. Oh, wait. We still have to see if this is Apollonius’ soul.”
Shali asked, “So what do you want me to do?”
Clay hesitated for a moment. “Let’s not push our luck trying to get directly to Apollonius. If it’s him, we can pick it up in the LBL or the Akashic records. If he is going to turn over the cards on the hidden secrets, he’ll do it then anyway. Let’s finish up this life of Hillel and take him back in time. Try to take him back about three thousand more years. If it is Moses, we should be able to find him in that timeframe. Focus on asking him to visit an important life of that time period. I don’t want to get some goat farmer in Spain or a mullet fisherman in Shanghai.”
Shali chuckled at Clay’s jest while she flipped forward in the script book to start the final round of questions to Iqbal. “What did you learn from this life?” she asked him.
Iqbal took a deep breath. “I had to stop the sacrificing of people. I had to do this. I don’t know why, but I had to stop the sacrifices. It was not just religious groups, but they had the most power, so I used them to get societies to stop the sacrifices.”
Shali translated for Clay.
“It must be a correction,” he said. “This soul was probably bothered by sacrifices he made in a previous life.” He signaled for Shali to turn to a specific index script number.
“Did you learn everything you were supposed to learn?”
There was no response, so Clay gave a shot to the Third Eye.
“Did you ever hear of any hidden writings or secret writings, secrets of life, or secrets of the world?”
After a long pause, Iqbal hesitantly responded, “There are no secrets except in what man wants to be secret. Man can know everything if he looks inside.”
Shali’s frustration showed as Iqbal’s soul slipped back into the life of Hillel. “Do you know of a collection of secret documents or scrolls?” she continued. “They were hidden to keep them safe from people who wanted to suppress or destroy them?”
“I know of nothing. It is all there for men to learn. Writings of truth and knowledge have been collected in Alexandria, in the library.”
“How do you know these secrets exist in the library in Alexandria?”
“I have been to the library. I also sent rabbis there to learn and bring the knowledge back to Jerusalem. They told me of tremendous knowledge stored there.”
“Do you know of any documents that might be referred to as a secret doctrine?”
There was a pause with no answer.
“Have you heard of the seven keys or the seven secrets?” No answer.
“Do you know the source of Kabbalah?”
Again, he did not respond.
“Do you know anything about stories, laws or writings called the Aggadah, Aggadot, Aggados or Ashkenazi?”
“Yes.”
“What do you know about them?”
No response. Shali kept plowing through the script, probing and poking for any knowledge of possible hidden secrets. “Do you know of the ten sefirot and the four worlds within four worlds?” But again he would not provide a response, despite three long shots to the Third Eye.
“Do you know about any of the following: Ma’aseh Bereshit, the Works of Creation; Ma’aseh, the works of the Divine Throne; Sitrei Torah, the hidden aspects of the Torah; Razei Torah, the Torah secrets; or Chochmah Nistara, the Hidden wisdom?”
Iqbal’s face grew stern and he snapped back in an aggravated tone, “Not permitted. Only within elders is this permitted to be discussed.”
“That wa
s a long time ago, and those men are all gone,” Shali retorted abruptly to bring Iqbal back out of the life of Hillel. “You are not living in this body now. You can freely and openly discuss this with no repercussions. Do you understand me?”
There was absolute silence.
“Tell me about these secrets or hidden truths.”
No response.
Clay leaned over to Shali. “This is exactly what we ran into in previous regressions. When we get access to a soul who has been exposed to the secrets in a previous life, they suddenly clam up.”
Shali acknowledged his disappointment but continued with Iqbal. “Were these secrets written on books or scrolls?”
“Yes, secretly.”
“How many copies were made and where were they kept?”
“Alexandria, of course. In a special place in the library. Those in control of others knew this knowledge must be kept secret or they would lose their control. No one was permitted in that part of the library without special permission.”
“Did you ever see this part of the library?”
“Yes.”
“What did it look like?”
“It was a very large room. Many scrolls and leather-bound papyrus were stored there.”
“How many were there, and where did they come from?”
“There are hundreds and hundreds, thousands — I do not know. They are all very different and came from many different places. I do not know from where.”
She translated the last round to Clay. He then handed her a handwritten set of unscripted questions.
“When you came near the end of this life, did you hear of or meet a young man in Galilee, who some said was the son of God? His name would have been Joshua, Lesous, Yeshua, Yahweh or Jesus?
“Yes, I have heard of him.”
“What have you heard about him?”
“He was an extremist, a radical, even at his young age. He was radical in behavior, and he was executed in this life for that behavior.”
She continued her line of questioning for several more minutes but with little or no response from Iqbal.
Clay leaned closer to Shali. “It’s time to move to the next life. Let’s go see if he lived the life of Moses.”
Shali took Iqbal back to the hall of doors.
