The Lives of the Soul
When you died, in that past life, the soul took away only the memory of what that former body had experienced. . . and that was all.
You must not known what the soul itself had experienced, or you could not live. . . because the child will not be able to enjoy the simple things that he receives in his new life – the smile of his mother, the gentle hand of his father stroking his head. . . well, and everything that makes children’s laughter so happy. . . .
We only keep what the child needs to know in order to do the work of its genus.
He will not understand why he chose this path in life – he will just follow it.
We want him to figure out for himself what he should do in this life. . . without instructions. Then it will be his real life, and not another incarnation.
It doesn’t always work that way, and it’s disgusting.
You know what I mean. . . .
When the soul fails to convey its purpose to the child, it collapses into a small black dot and no longer wants to live.
The body will not carry its life and falls into death too. . . when he completely ceases to see the purpose of the soul. . .
There are many such people falling into death. You can recognize them by their eyes.
When an entire genus does not see the goal, it degenerates and disappears.
Others will take its place by swallowing up the dead souls – the black dots of former lives.
And after eating them, they will try not to let them come to life again – otherwise they will take revenge on those who fed on them, used them to rise, appropriating other people’s thoughts. This is the most terrible thing that can happen to a soul – to be part of a hostile body, to be used by it to search for and destroy native souls. And unable to change the fact that their loved ones will be destroyed on your behalf, closing the last opportunity to rise. . . because there is no need to rise into a life where no one loves you and no one wait you.
This has been going on for a long time, and layer by layer the old souls are being buried deeper and deeper. . . until the last thread to the top is broken – the one that seeks to find the way to the Source.
To Father, to Mother.
It is the thread of Death that always dies last and closes the Universe so that there is no more Life in it.
She’s still looking. . . still hopes to raise her genus – the O genus.
In the new Universe that will be born, new souls must be born, but it always turned out that there were black dots inside them, but those who devoured others in the previous Universe.
And everything repeats again.