This session was part of a series when I was exploring the pendulum shifting back and forth between Victim and Perpetrator in my “Other” lives. I experienced a life as what I call the Aztec Priest - a personality that re-defined the phrase “high holy man.” As part of my training and research, The Aztec Priest was very familiar with consciousness altering substances centuries before the Haight-Ashbury scene introduced psychedelics to 20th century culture. I experienced almost every chapter of this personality through the lens of an altered state due to ingested substances, but sometimes the set and setting - burning incense, rhythmic chanting and torchlights - led to an expanded state of consciousness for anyone in attendance. The Victim/Perpetrator contrast was provided by this gruesome aspect of the job —To the slave being sacrificed, I could be seen as a murderer if they were not sufficiently indoctrinated to believe that this would guarantee them admission to our culture’s version of heaven. To the members of the hierarchy allowed to attend, I could be seen as the chosen one who’s intercession with the gods insured continuing abundance. It was only by digging deeper, and accessing the interior state of this priest, feeling into his/his heart, that I became aware of the burden he felt from both sides of this split.

One of my responsibilities was to perform the ceremony that the hierarchy believed guaranteed a fruitful harvest and the rain that made it possible. This involved sacrificing a slave during a full moon, removing their heart, and offering it to the gods after which it was enclosed in a container that was stored in a cave. This priest’s knowledge of herbs and potions was on display in two ways: I knew how to sedate the innocent victim so they would not be tortured and I knew how to sedate myself so that I was in a suitably altered state when performing this ritual. (My present-day self is aware of the vitamins, herbs and teas that fill my counters, possibly an echo of this expertise?)  I had the guards do the dirty work of opening the chest cavity so I could access and remove the heart. This was a high ceremony in a consciousness altering environment of torches, incense, and possibly hallucinogens. But underneath this was the awareness that this was a circus; a spectacle to please the masses and the higher-ups. I knew in my heart that I was a showman, that I had no control over the crops or the weather. I also knew that someday bad weather and a failing crop would have me become the sacrifice and it would be my heart that would be added to the collection when I experienced his death. And it was in running this that I saw an image that staggered me. I saw a cave filled with hundreds of these containers filled with sacrificed hearts, the residuals from decades and possibly centuries of these ceremonies.

I’m always amazed at how cinematic these sessions are! The visuals (and the verbal prompts that guide me to them) are perfectly choreographed to provide me the details that tell the story of that personality in a condensed 45-90 minute package.

Click here for more on this and the picture that inspired it.