Tours and Cures of a Lightsoldier: Surviving the Path to Enlightenment

Tours and Cures of a Lightsoldier: Surviving the Path to Enlightenment

by Alexander King

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Overview

Tours and Cures of a Lightsoldier tells the true story of one person’s incredible quest for self-discovery, and the answers to why we are here and what each of us could be doing with our lives. From an inquisitive childhood, full of promise and expectation we follow Alexander down a much murkier path to the all-consuming world of a modern-day cult, and the battle for identity and survival that ensues… What emerges is an honest look and guide to all things of the mind, body and spirit, and an exposition of the thought processes and exercises that have been successful healing tools and those that are less effective. What starts as a gripping personal story, finishes as a most unique and encompassing encyclopaedia of esoteric practices and teachings.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781782799825
Publisher: Hunt, John Publishing
Publication date: 06/26/2015
Pages: 370
Product dimensions: 5.40(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.90(d)

About the Author

Alexander King encountered 'spiritual healing' while studying medicine. He now works as a healer and masseur, helping people discover 'enlightenment' without creating false or unrealistic hopes.

Read an Excerpt

Tours and Cures of a LightSoldier

Surviving the Path to Enlightenment


By Alexander King

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Copyright © 2014 Alexander King
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78279-983-2



CHAPTER 1

Conscription


My early years weren't extraordinary, but I mention them simply because some believe they are critical in forming the emerging adult. However, I believe that any part of our life is just 'a part' of the whole experience. If a part is testing, it is best to learn potential lessons, forgive and move on.

I was made in Rome and born prematurely into a middle class family in Germany in 1971, slotting between two sisters: one three years older, the other nine years younger. My German father worked as a psychologist while my Croatian mother kept the home front in order. Though my father didn't say he loved us every day, or play with us every chance he'd get – I love him for always providing well for us. His love is demonstrated in actions rather than words. He has always been very reliable and helped me immensely by exercising my scientific brain, always trying to explain with reason and scientific thinking when any of us would come home with some idealistic, harebrained idea. He'd keep us grounded. Mum is more emotional. She would be responsible for cuddles, mending scraped knees and always having an open ear and heart for any problems we might face. She had her hands full with me being born with severe strabismus and knock-knees. During the first years of my life she ran me patiently and lovingly to doctors and therapists.

Other than that I was low maintenance. My mum just had to give me a toy car and I'd happily play by myself for hours. At school I was self-motivated, loved learning, and even if not at the top of the class always did well with very little parental supervision. My strabismus was mended, but never to the point of me gaining three-dimensional vision. I didn't miss it (never having known any different), but it did impair my abilities in any kind of ball games or activities that require quick hand-eye coordination. By the time my eyes and brain told my hands the ball is coming, it had already flown past. These days this does not pose a problem, not too many flying objects in everyday life. Back then all the boys were spending most of their free time playing football or hockey. Since I was a useless addition to any team, I did not have many 'mates'. Girls were playing with Barbie dolls and did not want any boys around either. When I was eight years old I started playing the piano though, which kept me fairly busy and happy. Finally, around the 8th grade, girls became interested in socializing with boys and I acquired many great (girl) friends. I guess me being gay made me an attractive, sensitive male person to talk to. (Even though I did not really know then that I was. That dawned on me when I was 17, several years later.)

Even though I was a pretty well-behaved child, a little more introverted perhaps and often praised by elderly relations for my maturity, I was not the perfect little angel. I had my share of quarrels with my older sister. I exploited my favored status as the only son and could be certain that, if annoyed by or in a fight with my sister, loud crying would get my mother's attention and mostly she'd side with me. And at times I vented pubescent frustrations on my baby sister too. Despite that she still admired me. Looking back I could have been more understanding towards my parents and shown more gratitude. I did not really understand and see the effort it takes to raise and support a family.

As for my spiritual upbringing – my mother is Catholic and my father an ex-Protestant. They had the foresight not to christen us kids though. They wanted us to have a say in the matter when more capable of making an educated decision. I loved singing and spent years in church choirs. If we ever sang during a full service, I'd usually nod off during the sermon though.

After doing my 'Abitur' (the German equivalent of A-levels) I spent countless hours worrying about which direction to go with my life. Initially I spent 15 months doing civil service as a 'conscientious objector', which gave me a bit more time to ponder the decision. During those 15 months I worked on a repertoire of piano pieces to get into the Music Conservatory, but I was unsure if I was good enough, or patient enough, to practice sufficiently. If anything I wanted to be a concert pianist though I didn't believe 'just' being a piano teacher would be fulfilling enough. An arrogant attitude I admit. Studying music meant I needed a second instrument, so I took voice lessons, but again my somewhat restricted range was an issue too.

My other idea was to study medicine. This promised to feed my hunger for scientific knowledge and would enable me to work with people – something I enjoyed. I was a bit of an intellectual snob. An academic education was taken as a must. I generally wanted to live a meaningful life – helping people as a doctor seemed to me more meaningful and worthy than, say, being a sales representative flogging nails. The fact that we'd be hard-pressed to build houses without nails and that our economy needs more than just the medical profession to prosper – eluded me back then. Or perhaps I felt that people less intelligent than me could do those things?

The battle inside me between music and medicine was decided by the government or better the ZVS (Zentralstelle für die Vergabe von Studienplätzen – the Department for the Allocation of University places). When finishing my civil service I thought I'd have another year to prepare for an audition with the Music Conservatory, however, I received a letter informing me that I had moved forward on the waiting list and had to enroll within the week with the University of Hamburg or lose my chance of studying medicine. Hamburg had been number one on my wish list of cities to study in too, so I packed my bags and moved up north.

Spiritually I could best be classed as a skeptic in my early years. I was an adherent to common scientific explanations of the world. That said, at times some esoteric books would land in my lap. I remember a book about the power of the subconscious when in my mid-teens: Joseph Murphy – The Power of Your Subconscious Mind. The idea of manifesting wishes through affirmation and visualizations seemed appealing. It did not seem to work for me though. I focused on being more muscular, but nothing much happened. I did start to do some occasional pushups and chin-ups in my room which helped some, but I expected more. I figured that if I became more muscular through exercising hours a day, I would not need the affirmations, that it would be pure biology. I did not understand that the affirmations might help me to find the motivation and strength for regular exercise. The book promised visible, palpable results if one just affirmed. Furthermore I fought the budding 'gayness' inside and tried to affirm that I get aroused by the opposite sex, but that did not really succeed either. So I put the idea of 'affirmations' on hold.

A year or so later I came across a book about Rosemary Brown, who supposedly auto wrote dead composers' compositions from their afterlife – Unfinished Symphonies: Voices from the Beyond. I found it fascinating. I especially enjoyed the bit where the composers apparently told her that there is no hell! Everyone goes to heaven. Everyone is psychic in heaven, so a person, who had lived a life of lies and deceit, going to heaven, where everyone can see through them, might initially experience heaven as hell. The Divine does not put any pressure on us to find our belief in it during our physical lifetime, being confident that with an eternal afterlife we will come to understand the truth again. Today when I Google her, I find mixed reviews. I have also listened to some of her compositions and find that an original Chopin does sound more inspired and genial than her version. She might have been a spoof ...

I read another book about Ouija boards. This was interesting at first too; people who apparently had gotten in contact with enlightened spiritual beings who dictated whole books, fascinating. The last three chapters ended with dire warnings though; players having become possessed by evil spirits and the recommendation to deeply bury any Ouija board (supposedly the damn things just won't burn). I did have to sleep with the lights on for a week or so and decided that the spiritual worlds seemed far too dangerous. I went back to 'normal' living, having enough hopes and dreams that seemed accomplishable by ordinary means.

My initial years of medical study were filled with excitement; discovering the joy of helping patients, studying for exams, embracing the new life away from the parents' hearth, making new friends and sometimes having more than one part-time job trying to keep a comfortable lifestyle. My life seemed all mapped out – I'd finish my studies, specialize and either open a private practice or become the head of a hospital. I always saw myself in a blue pinstripe suit driving a Jaguar. I also relished the status that came with my field of study; being respected and sometimes even adored when saying I was studying to become a doctor. University was tougher than my school years. Medicine required a faster pace. In school we were taught critical, analytical thinking to understand concepts and ideas – easy for my analytical brain. University demanded a lot of memorizing, not my greatest strength. Yet, I managed to pass all the exams.

During my first year at university my grandmother died. I had moved into her flat in Hamburg, as she was in a nursing home being too frail to live on her own. It was a rather posh place in one of Hamburg's affluent suburbs. I visited her regularly, but the fancy façade of the home soon turned out to be just that. She was in a little loft room which got incredibly hot during that summer. My dear 94 year old grandma was sitting in just her underwear when I arrived one afternoon. Always having enjoyed her food she complained that they were very stingy with the rations. The service was pretty lousy too and considering that she missed her friends and relations, plus the fact that this home was costing her an arm and a leg, we decided she should move back home again. She had a few more happy months, looking after me as much as I looked after her.

I had not 'come out' to her and did feel guilty lying to her when she enquired about girlfriends. I am not good at living any kind of lie and soon developed quite severe juvenile cardiac arrhythmia for a few months, perhaps because of this? By then I had settled in Hamburg and had started working as geriatric homecare nursing help. At the end of the semester I had also found a room of my own, nearer to university and then went back to my parents' during the summer. A week after I had left, my grandma died. Her warm heart and zest for life had been an inspiration.

I considered myself a romantic back then; guess I had watched too many chick-flicks. I desired the perfect romance, to find the perfect man and planned to be faithful to him till the end of my days. But every couple of months I'd be heartbroken. Usually the object of my affections would fall out of infatuation after a week or so, or vice versa, or the guys I fancied were not interested or 'taken'. Between the ages of 18–25, I only managed two noteworthy relationships, of no longer than six months each. It was all very frustrating, if not depressing, especially because subconsciously I was convinced I would never be completely happy without being in a great relationship. I was attractive, intelligent, sensitive and studying to become a doctor. Not a bad catch I thought. On top of that the sheer endless amounts of knowledge I'd have to retain, to become a responsible doctor, became ever more daunting. Before my first big clinical examinations I got mononucleosis – and ended up having to postpone my exams by a semester.

Then I met my perfect man – attractive, intelligent, dressed well, a great lover and he seemed to genuinely like me too. After a week he confessed to me that he was financing his studies as an ecstasy wholesaler. The moment he told me, my feelings for him just vanished. He went back home to Berlin and stopped dealing – for my sake! Allegedly he dumped hundreds of pills down the toilet, but I could not resurrect my feelings for him, however hard I tried. Was there something wrong with me? You see my father had always told us that according to twin research studies, about 80% of our character/being is genetic and 20% environmental, i.e. there is not much we can do to change ourselves. I was led to believe that if there was anything I did not like about myself and my character, I better get used to it. I would likely have to live with them for the rest of my life. Perhaps, these theories/scientific teachings were another reason why I felt so stuck with myself and in life at that point. It all made for fertile ground – for new, potentially more liberating ideas and concepts.

In the autumn of 1995 I met Carl. A very handsome guy who raved about some esoteric books he had read. He said he could sense that I was a 'good' person (always nice to have that confirmed from the outside, especially in times of self-doubt) and recommended these books to me. Carl also told me that our thoughts have creative potential! In other words as children of God/the Divine, through our thinking, we have the same creational powers. This struck a chord with me.

Two of the recommended books were written by a woman who claimed to have connected to wise and loving entities from the Pleiades constellation, who had channeled the books' contents through her. These Pleiadians have supposedly come to Earth (in spirit) to help humanity evolve and transition. Carl advised me to read these books one chapter at a time and let the 'knowledge' sink in. I devoured these books though. They talked about humans discovering their true, long forgotten potential. Our DNA morphing from 2 to 12 strands and that humans (or at least those following the Pleiadians' advice) would also discover great gifts: psychic abilities, even flight or levitation. Another claim centered on the 'reptilian conspiracy', that the top tier of the richest and most powerful people on Earth were hiding their true, dark, destructive reptilian roots. I just gobbled it all up, without question.

I was naïve. I trusted that if someone claims that they channel extraterrestrials, then they would (I would be far too embarrassed to claim something like that without being certain of my claims). I did not consider that such authors might only be talking to their subconscious, could be deluded or simply be telling porkies. These days I feel that the books were (mostly) channeled, but I am less certain about the motives of the entities dictating them. I have come to be very wary of manipulative techniques used in spiritual contexts. These books ask the readers to keep a completely open mind – as a lot of information would be conveyed to the reader from 'between the lines' (however that is supposed to work – but it did have a somewhat hypnotic effect on me). There was no recommendation asking the readers to request 'good protection' before embarking on this spiritual quest. I believe that you should ask for divine protections before any spiritual adventure, be that meditation, mind-altering exercise, attending an esoteric lecture or just reading some spiritual text. Call me paranoid but you'll soon see why I have become so cautious ...

I tried to tell my friends about the newly discovered ideas. The great potential we, as humans, are now able to rediscover. Instead of being grateful though, they started to shun me. Today I can see that I was annoying with my continuous proselytizing attempts, just repeating what I had read, without giving it any thought. I read other more 'sensible' books too. I still remember one about ancient Hawaiian Huna philosophy, Urban Shaman by Serge Kahili King. Explaining how we can all be shamans for the benefit of our lives, that we have the power to change our lives with our thoughts, through visualizations and by communicating with (all) beings. Communication that is possible because everything has consciousness and can communicate spirit-to-spirit: plants, animals, rocks, computers, the wind or the waves in the sea. At least this book was backed by millennia of indigenous tradition and experience – whereas the extraterrestrial channeled book had far less of a proven track record.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Tours and Cures of a LightSoldier by Alexander King. Copyright © 2014 Alexander King. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Introduction: Why I Had To Tell This Story… 1

Book 1 Battlefields & Tours 5

1 Conscription 6

2 Boot Camp 16

3 The Frontline 35

4 Going AWOL 52

5 Army of One 66

6 Civilian Life 89

Book 2 Strategies & Cures 103

7 The Powers That Be 104

8 Understanding the Enemy 114

9 Tricks, Traps and Weapons 128

10 Sense in Suffering 140

11 Ethics of Healing 151

12 Patience and Passion 171

13 Going to Ground 188

14 Purpose of Protection 199

15 Method in Meditation 214

16 Sight, Intent and Attunement 229

17 Intuition and Divination 246

18 Relationships: Good, Bad and Spiritual 267

19 The Esoteric Market Laid Bare 277

20 The Healing Journey 310

Afterword: The Ultimate Weapon 350

Acknowledgements 353

About the Author 354

Sources & Glossary 355

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