His son, Jonathan Sossoon, moved to London to set up J.D. Sossoon & Co., which soon owned interests in shipping, real estate and banking. Jonathan died in 1885, leaving behind a widow, Clementine, Lady Sossoon, who would continue living at 18, Belgrave Square, in London.
Alexander Bassano, one of the most famous photographers of the time, turned out portraits of some of the most aristocratic and beautiful women of the time. Among these had been Clementine, Lady Sossoon.
‘Okay. Forget the Red Cross and the Sossoons. Is there anyone important in your life? Parents? Brothers? Sisters? Wife? Kids? Lover?’ asked Terry. Vincent was still lying peacefully on the bed in his hotel room.
‘My parents aren’t alive. I have no wife or kids. The only person dear to me is Lady Clementine. She has everything—wealth and power. But she will soon die.’
‘You must love her very much?’
‘She is everything to me in an otherwise dreary world. Unfortunately, she has cancer. It’s a matter of time . . . she will soon die.’
‘Do you remember what she looks like?’
‘She’s beautiful, graceful, and delicate. But she is withering away. The hospitals are overloaded and medicines are a problem. I’m trying really hard to look after her as best as I can.’
‘Can you see anyone who is from your present life?’
‘Clementine—she’s Nana in my present life.’
Vincent was still in a deep hypnotic state. Terry gently probed, ‘So why do you think she is here with you again in this life?’
Vincent paused and then replied, ‘She seems to be taking care of me, nurturing me, much the same way that I took care of her in our previous lives.’
‘Can you see anyone else you recognise?’ asked Terry.
‘My parents.’
‘Present-life or past-life parents?’
‘My present-life ones. In my previous life, they were strangers who were simply crossing the street and I was in a hurry to get some wounded soldiers to the hospital. My ambulance knocked them down!’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Not much I can do. They are dead. There is a young boy standing at the edge of the road. He’s crying! I think he’s their son. Oh God! What have I done?’
‘Relax, Vincent. What do you think you can learn from what you have done?’
‘I caused someone to lose his parents by my carelessness . . . my parents were lost by me in exactly the same circumstances—a car accident!’
‘Vincent, I now want you to once again hover above the memories. I will again count backwards from five, and I want you to go deeper, beyond the lifetime that you have just recounted . . . much further . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . and what do you see? Where are you now?’
‘In Ireland, I think. They have no food.’
‘Why? Who are they?’
‘There is a famine. The Catholic farmers are starving. I am the Protestant tax-collector. I have betrayed them all. I collect taxes from them that they cannot possibly pay, even if they were to sell themselves!’
‘Anyone familiar?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yes. I have a friend. Father Thomas Manning. It’s him.’
‘Who is he?’
‘He’s one of the poor Catholic farmers. I have persecuted him.’ Vincent fell silent.
Terry realised he was not getting much out of Vincent, so he quickly shifted gears. ‘Let’s go deeper, Vincent . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . where are you?’
‘A farm in rural India, a palatial house which is on the banks of a beautiful river.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m the son of a landlord. I am a teacher. I have just written a book.’
‘Do you love your father?’
‘Yes . . . no . . . I don’t know. He is supporting the view of the village elders. He does not want me to tamper with the traditions and caste equations of the village. I feel very let down.’
Terry could feel the sweat building up on his forehead as he asked the next question.
‘Do you see anyone familiar?’
‘Yes. It’s you! You! Terry! You are my father! I hate you! You sided with them!’
‘Anything to learn?’
‘For you. Not me.’
‘What?’
‘You prevented the truth from emerging. You blocked my path. You will make amends in another life, maybe this one. You will go to any lengths to ensure that the truth emerges.’
Terry digested this information and decided it was time to move on. ‘Vincent, hover above the memories again . . . I will again count backwards from five . . . go deeper . . . much further . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . and what do you see?’
‘Abwûn d’bwaschmâja nethkâdasch schmach têtê malkuthach nehwê tzevjânach aikâna d’bwaschmâja af b’arha.’
‘Which language are you speaking in? Is this your native tongue?’
‘Hawvlân lachma d’sûnkanân jaomâna waschboklân chaubên aikâna daf chnân schvoken l’chaijabên wela tachlân l’nesjuna ela patzân min bischa metol dilachie malkutha wahaila wateschbuchta l’ahlâm almîn.’62
‘Vincent, I cannot understand what you are saying. I want you to float above the scene and see it as an impartial observer . . . I need you to tell me what it is that you see.’
‘I am in Yerushalem. I am here on a visit to the great city.’
‘Where have you come from?’
‘Cyrene. It’s in North Africa.’
‘What are you doing? Can you see who is around you?’
‘The streets are filled with people. The rough stones that line the street have blood on them. There is a lot of shouting. I can see Roman soldiers everywhere.’
‘What does Jerusalem look like?’
‘Yerushalem? It is the most magnificent city between Alexandria and Damascus, with almost 80,000 people living here. Almost 250,000 visitors are here right now because of the Passover!’63
‘Is it very crowded?’
‘The pilgrims share the roads with teams of oxen who are hauling huge blocks of limestone. Large-scale construction work is going on. As you approach the city, on the left side is a massive wall around 150 feet high. It’s not the temple, merely the platform of the temple! To my right is the upper city where the Jewish priests live in splendour.’
‘So the city is being rebuilt?’
‘Herod is a great builder. He has built forts, palaces, cities and an artificial harbour. He has rebuilt all the existing meandering streets on a paved grid and has created a palace that is surrounded by a moat and boasts of wondrous water gardens. He wants to outdo King Solomon.’
‘How?’
‘Tradition forbids enlarging the temple beyond the size originally constructed by Solomon. Herod has added this gigantic thirty-five-acre platform, on which the temple sits. Some of the stones weigh more than fifty tonnes each.’
‘Can you describe the temple?’
‘The temple mount has seven entrances, but the main entry is from a stairway on the south side. At the foot of the stairs are shops selling sacrificial animals. There are also baths for ritual purification.’
‘What do you do at the temple?’
‘Sacrifice. A lamb for Passover, a bull for Yom Kippur, two doves for a child’s birth.’
‘So, one buys the animals and sacrifices them?’
‘Yes, but to buy animals, one has to first change Roman denarii for shekels.’
‘What are shekels?’
‘Shekels are temple currency—coins that have no portraits on them. They do not contradict Jewish law.’
‘What is the temple like?’
‘There are thousands of priests and scholars. There is smoke from the pyres as well as the screaming of terrified beasts that are about to be sacrificed. The abattoir smells terrible and there is blood everywhere.’
‘How did you come to Jerusalem?’
>
‘Caravan. Goods come in caravans from Samaria, Syria, Egypt, Nabatea, Arabia and Persia. Yerushalem is very cosmo-politan. Greek, Aramaic and Hebrew are spoken here.’
‘Are the Romans in charge of the city?’
‘Yes, but they do not really control things. In one of the corners of the temple is the Antonia, the great Roman garrison that houses about 3,000 soldiers. Many do not like what Herod has done by virtually demolishing the old temple. He has more or less built a Roman temple. People seem to hate being under Roman rule.’
‘Which religions are under Roman rule?’
‘Most of the temple elite consists of the Sadducees and the Pharisees. The Zealots are rather militant in nature whereas the Essenes live in monastic groups outside the city. There is a lot of tension among these groups.’
‘What is causing the crowds on the streets?’
‘I know the reason . . . I saw it myself. Caiphas, the high priest of the Sanhedrin, has asked Pontius Pilate to crucify this man who is bleeding. People are lining up in the streets to see him. He is being made to carry his crossbeam to Golgotha. The crowds are shouting, “Barabbas! We want Barabbas released!”’
‘Anything else?’
64
‘Vincent, you are again slipping into a language I cannot understand. What did you just say?’
‘Greek! They are calling me a Jew in a contemptuous way and are asking me to help him with the cross.’
‘Who is telling you this?’
‘The Roman soldiers coming down the Mount of Olives.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘I am lifting up the crossbeam for him. I can see the man’s face and body. He has been beaten so savagely that his features have been rendered almost indistinguishable. He is stooping even though I am now taking the entire load of the crossbeam. He is trying to say something to me.’
‘What?’
‘Nayim mayod Simon. Toda. Hashem Yaazor!’
‘You’re again speaking in an alien language. I need you to float above the scene so that you can be a neutral observer. Now, what is he saying?’
‘Nice to meet you, Simon. Thank you. God shall help. It’s Hebrew. How in heaven’s name does he know my name?’
‘What else can you see around you?’
‘The Jewish leaders. They seem to be very excited. They are hurling insults at him. Some women are crying. He is saying to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, stop weeping for me. On the contrary, weep for yourselves and for your children! In the days ahead the childless woman will be considered lucky. When the end time comes, men and women will be calling on mountains and the hills to cover them. If they do this when the tree is green, what will they not do when it is dry?”’
‘What else can you see or hear?’
‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani.’
‘What are you saying, Vincent? What does that mean?’ asked Terry.
Vincent continued animatedly. ‘I have seen his agony as the hammers pound nails through his body. It’s excruciatingly painful when the crossbeam is hoisted by ropes up the vertical post. They have placed two criminals on either side of him.’
Vincent had been in a hypnotic state for close to an hour. Terry was sweating profusely and his pulse was racing. Could this be real? A person in the present day having seen Jesus upfront and alive in a previous life?
‘“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” is what he is saying. They have put a sign over his head.’
‘What does the sign read?’
‘Iésous o Nazóraios o Basileus tón Ioudaión.’
‘What is that?’
‘Greek. Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews.’
‘What else can you see?’
‘The soldiers are dividing his clothes among themselves. The crowd is taunting him. They say that he saved others but cannot save himself.’
‘Is he replying to them?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.’
‘What else does he say?’
‘Okay. To whom is he saying that and what does it mean?’
‘He is talking to one of the criminals. He is promising him that he will take him to Paradise. Two men are sharing a private joke near the cross. One man is commenting that the crucified king of Jews is calling for Elijah. The other fellow is saying, “Let’s stay and see if Elijah helps him down!”’
‘Anything else?’
‘He’s thirsty. They aren’t giving him water. They are putting something that looks like vinegar. Is it vinegar? I can’t quite make out. No wait, it’s a combination of a couple of things that they are putting on the sponge at the end of a long stick. They are now putting it to his lips. He’s groaning. Wait! He’s saying something . . . “Father, I commit my spirit to your hands. It is finished.” He seems to have passed out.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘I can’t be sure. He has definitely fainted. He certainly looks dead. The centurion seems nervous. “Surely that good man was a son of God,” he is saying. The crowd that has been standing around is now beating their chests with their fists. They are going away.’
‘So everyone is leaving?’
‘Since it’s the day of preparation for the Passover, the temple clergy doesn’t seem to want the bodies to stay on the crosses over the Sabbath. They’ve sent representatives to Pilate to ask that the legs of the crucified men be broken so as to bring death quickly. This will allow for their bodies to be removed in good time.’
‘Are they breaking the legs?’
‘They have broken the legs of the two criminals but they are checking to see whether Jesus is dead. One of the soldiers is raising his spear and thrusting it into Jesus’s side . . . blood and water! He must be alive for blood to spurt like that! They seem to think he’s dead. “No point breaking the legs of a dead man,” they’re saying.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I am standing a little distance away. Near me are his mother and Mary Magdalene. I’m going closer to the cross. I want to see his condition. What’s that smell? It isn’t vinegar. It’s some sort of opium . . . opium and belladonna? I can’t be sure.’
‘What time is it?’
‘It’s evening. I’m hanging around to see what happens. There’s this rich man called Joseph of Arimathea. He’s been to Pilate and has obtained permission to take down the body and bury it. I wonder whether he realises that the man could be alive?’
‘Who is this Joseph?’
‘Well, the people here say that he’s a secret follower of Jesus. He’s also very rich and has his way with Pilate. Pilate was apparently quite surprised that Jesus died so quickly. I wonder whether he knows anything?’
‘What’s happening now?’
‘They’re carrying the body to a tomb that Joseph has hewn from a rock close to Golgotha. It’s quite surprising that Pilate has allowed them to bury the body . . . Roman law does not allow for burial of crucified men. Joseph and another man, Nicodemus, are taking the body down. They have brought a long linen winding- cloth and about a hundred pounds of crushed myrrh and aloe vera.’
Pittsburgh, USA, 2004
The scientists of the University of Pittsburgh finally made the breakthrough in 2004. They proved that an extract from the leaves of aloe vera could preserve organ function in rats that had lost massive amounts of blood. Indications were that aloe vera could possibly end up becoming the ideal treatment for battle wounds because the extract could help buy time until blood became available.65 Accelerated loss of blood was quite difficult to replenish rapidly and this often led to organ failure. Aloe vera could step in at such times.
Dr Mitchell Fink, the author of the Pittsburgh study, formally indicated that the study revealed that when the human body lost large quantities of blood, it would go into haemorrhage shock because blood would get diverted from the rest of the body to critical organs such as the heart, brain and liver. This would cause a drop in blood pressure.
The
University of Pittsburgh team found that the juice of aloe vera leaves actually reduced the force required by blood to flow through blood vessels, thus increasing the chances of survival. Some of these properties had been known to Indian sages since 1400 B.C.
Northern India, 1400 B.C.
The great sage, Vyasa, was writing on Ayurveda—the ‘science of life’—by combining relevant medical texts from various ancient Indian books of wisdom. The sage was presently engrossed in the properties of a herb called heerabol. Heerabol had a long history of therapeutic use in Ayurveda; it was routinely used to treat inflammations and infections.
The uses of heerabol were later introduced by Ayurveda into the Chinese and Tibetan medicinal systems during the seventh century. The Gyu-zhi, or the ‘Four Tantras’, was one of the first Indian medical texts to be translated into Tibetan. As a result, in Tibetan and Chinese medicine, heerabol began to be used in the treatment of impact injuries, wounds, incisions and bone pain.
Subsequent research by the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Centre found that heerabol had anti-inflammatory and antipyretic properties when used on mice. According to the Centre, a constituent of heerabol was a potent inhibitor of certain cancers.66 The scientific name for heerabol is commiphora molmol. It is also known by its more common name, myrrh.
‘Joseph and another man, Nicodemus, are taking the body down. They have brought a long linen winding-cloth and about a hundred pounds of crushed myrrh and aloe vera.’
London, UK, 2012
Vincent was still in his hotel room, semi-reclined on the bed. The pillows propping him up were damp from his perspiration. Terry continued to remain frozen on the chair next to the bed, and Martha was waiting downstairs in the hotel lounge.
The regression session had been going on for over an hour, and even though Terry was overwhelmed with the richness of detail that Vincent had been able to recall, he realised that he needed to terminate the session and continue it another day, for the sake of his own health as well as for Vincent’s well-being.
Terry began the process of bringing Vincent back into the present. ‘Vincent, it’s time for you to return to waking consciousness. I will now start counting upwards from one to ten. Let each incremental number awaken you more. By the time I reach ten, you will open your eyes and be fully awake, remembering everything that you saw . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . you’re awakening . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . you’re feeling good . . . seven . . . eight . . . you’re nearly awake now . . . nine . . . ten . . . you can now open your eyes. You are now fully awake and are fully in control of your body and mind.’