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Eamon Brian Andrew Tracy August 8, 2008

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.
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He was just a kid, lost in the big city of Liverpool. His Irish parents had a whole lot of stuff to deal with, not the least of which was that the Irish were mostly looked down upon in the whole of the English isle. They had some loose supervision of the lad, but they could not do much for him, and sure enough, before too long he got himself into some trouble. Coupled with hanging around “the wrong sort of fellows”, he soon enough ended up in gaols of various sorts, until one day he was given an unceremonious choice–either stay in prison for the rest of his life, or become a servant to a nobleman’s son who was setting off on a foray to the new colony in the New World, more specifically to Virginia colony.

Eamon didn’t see as he had much of a choice–either die here or die there, probably. So he eagerly appended his X to a contract of indenture (which, seeing as he couldn’t read, signed off quite a few of his rights) and sailed off with Mr. Fair____. (I see the name “Fairfax” but I’m not sure that is the right name or not. Fairfield or Fairleigh or Fearelynn for all I know… I just know the ironic prefix Fair- begins the name.)

At first when he arrived, it was the same as most any new start to a place. There was a lot of adventure, though not as much as if he had been a part of the initial onslaught. The plantation had already been set up and most of the “detritus” (in other words, both Indians and white riff-raff) had been well cleared of the area. And our boy was sort of hoping for some of that kind of action, but unfortunately that was for other plantations that were closer to the frontier. The days of this plantation being “frontier” were not that long in the past, and some of the overseers and other I.S.’s were well-cognizant of the “Injun contagion.”

The work was quite hard, though. And it was unrelenting. And he had to suck up his helpless rage at the abuses that were heaped upon him. To his dismay, there were a couple of moments where he couldn’t take it, and he lashed out and had instantly come to regret it.

Eamon Brian Andrew Tracy didn’t live too long once he’d set foot on British colonial soil. He had been only 19 when he had arrived, and the difficult times and the gamed system whereby the “noble” idiot-son Fair-______, had basically not really indentured, but rather enslaved my past-life self and wrested additional time to attempt to meet the financial burden heaped upon him due to appending that dadblasted X to the upfucked contract, conspired to bring Eamon’s life to a brisk and cruel end. He contracted an influenza that went around and that little mercy ended his life that Hobbes would identify as “nasty, brutish and short” (though the esteemed militantly-ignorant (evil) philo-ilith would not describe as civilized, even though it means roughly the same thing).

And for lo, these 4 centuries, poor Eamon has been anonymously carrying his helpless rage with him through various lifetimes. He/I was a fellow named Josiah Cotton who knew my esteemed guide Ben Franklin and who disgusted the same with craven fear. I can look at the former colonist-self and have compassion though, because Eamon’s brutish life may have been foremost in Josiah’s karmic memory. That same rage has floated through all of my subsequent past lives, and perhaps was even foreshadowed by one wherein I was an Italian courtier who had inadvertently exposed a beneficent conspiracy for humanity to malevolent machinic ones, and who, to save face for a well-placed countess had to be officially dispatched as a heretic and a traitor. (Pietro/I was beheaded in that lifetime, and it was quick and anonymous and hardly even a footnote in the Italian province in which I lived this life of chagrin and silent ignominy.)

Eamon has been an aspect of all these lives, and of the life I currently lead. As a 6-Death I need to honor my past-life ancestor, and in so doing heal his karma. As I type these keys into the ether, I send Eamon Brian Andrew Tracy’s restless spirit healing reiki energy. I envelop his spirit with the violet light to cleanse and acknowledge that he was a valued member of the human race, that his horrific existence did serve a purpose, and that someone does remember him. That in this acknowledgment of his simple and hard life and the mercilessness of his environment, as unnecessary and capricious and maleficent and “maliferous” as THAT was, that he counted for something. Even if it’s to spotlight the awareness that I need not play the same game as the Fair-_____s of the vEmpire.

In other words the Succubank’s game.

I choose to walk the path of beauty, and Eamon I salute you and say to you in all lovingkindness that you need not suffer anymore. You can release that ball and chain. It no longer serves you, and it certainly no longer serves me. In love I command you now to let go of that rod or rope that you have clutched onto, the hatred and rage that has kept you tethered here. You did well enough and now it’s time, my friend to stop the self-torture. To release that shame, that fear, that guilt, that expectation that you will be mistreated and abused. That is done, for the vEmpire is ending its clutches, and your message has gotten through.

Be that as it may, it’s time for different options. I for one can not continue the insanity, and yes, you can freely acknowledge both the Fair___ family’s insanity as well as your own. For you accepted it as if it was your own, and they had so securely sheltered you from Indian influences that how could you know there was any other way?

Perhaps there was some karma to pay, but as a descendant of yours, if not by blood then by future-life descent, I am here to remember you and to give you the respect and admiration you deserve.

It is time now. Let the pleroma, let Sophia take you into her arms and hold and love you. It’s the reward for the life you lived, and you can now accept it. Please do so–just fall into it. That’s all you have to do. Easy as 1-2-

3.

Blessings my friend.
Ache’.

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