Curses of Slavery 1 — Notes about Healing America

This is part 1 of a healing I did. For more information about this kind of healing, please take a look the earlier post, “Curses of Slavery Overview.” In that post I describe the beings and concepts that were part of the healing and might be unfamiliar to you.

The most important point is that we can’t fight evil in the present. We need to go back and clean up the past so the evil we are in dissolves. As this healing shows, dealing with evil in the past rescues lost souls and removes the curses that cause our battles today. When we remove past curses with love, we heal without causing more harm.

23 August 2017
I armor up in my protections. I call my allies to guard me, even from my own foolish rashness. I ask my khuyas to encircle me.
Light Tangler: And don’t touch the curses this time. [I’ve been known to touch curses to remove them. It almost always hurts and it’s always work to get the curse off me again. Other beings are much better at doing the actual removal.]
Tom: Okay.

Tom: Please, Rider, show me the curses on America.
Rider: Come ride.

We ride. I see hoocha, curses. They are thick where we ride. No man or woman could walk through the curses without being cut. The hoocha makes them impossible to see. The hoocha is so thick I can barely see the people. We ride.

Rider: Pick a curse. Pick this curse.
Tom: Where are we?
Rider: It doesn’t matter. People move all the time in America. It’s the same in most places. This is just one of a million curses that are all pretty much the same.

Tom: Holder Khuya, please bring that curse out of the hoocha so I can see it.

Holder Khuya reaches into the hoocha and delicately uses pincers like two fingers might hold the edge of a coin. He brings the curse to me.

I see beatings, whippings, unending work. Chains tying a human being to a post. Hot sun. Thirst. Hunger. Hope for a change. Prayers for a change. Hope dies. A loved one is sold. A loved one dies.

A Scream.

A Scream.

A Scream.

An unending, but silent Scream.

And each day is a curse. Each breath is a curse. Each heartbeat is a curse.

Until this person breaks and she dies and her curses, maybe one billion curses, are sealed by her death.

She was a slave in America. She cursed those who made her a slave. She cursed those who kept her a slave. She cursed her fellow slave because they could not help her. She cursed America. She cursed America because it was a land that lied about freedom and God and hope for salvation. She died and there was no salvation. The curse Holder Khuya held led back to her with an iron chain. Her soul could not escape the post they tied her to, even in death.

Tom: Thank you, Rider.
Rider: You’re welcome, Tom. Now let’s get to work.

I turn to my team.
Tom: Do we have the right to help her?
Team: She has no one else. We have met in this place. Huna practice would allow it. And we can ask her.
Tom: [to the woman] Do you wish our help? We can free you from this place and let you move on to a better place.
Woman: Do you really think you can? I think you are wrong. Look at me. There’s more than these chains. There’s more than this post.

So we look. Each of those curses that this woman sent out was answered. She came from a place that knew about curses. They were strong and effective curses, aimed at the ones who did the beating and their loved ones as far as the love went, and their children as long as children were born, and their parents and grandparents back to when America was born, maybe to the beginning of time. When a person is powerless in physical reality, power can still pour through the soul.

The ones she cursed came from a different place, but they felt every one of those curses and sent curses right back at her and everyone she held dear, enforced with whips and fists. Well, maybe a few missed from both sides. Those landed in America.

My team and I said, “Oh.”
The Woman smiled.

Woman: Now you got it. That’s the kind of curse this slavery is. You think on that for a while.
Tom: We will. And we’ll be back. We don’t have much choice. Those curses reached to us, too.

Rider brings me home. I wondered why everywhere I looked was full of hoocha and why it seemed like [in the present day] the Civil War never ended. Now I know.

Off with the armor. Thanks to my team, and my khuyas, and Rider. Hoocha Eater Khuya removes the hoocha from this story and from the space between the story and you, so you can see it clearly. Maybe you will understand why you need to help. Please let me know if that is your wish.

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