THE BIRTH OF JANET by Janet Kira Lessin
Like Ally in the Steven Spielberg movie “Taken,” I was tracked by the US Military coming into my body from the spiritual plane when I birthed this Janet. Aware of my higher levels of existence, I had difficulties integrating into this human form. Since I had agreed to incarnate, I also decided with divine creation to go unconscious and fully emerge in physical form. To fully participate and enjoy human life, I had to suffer amnesia like everyone else. I left behind clues for myself and only agreed to this sublimation of my soul if I was permitted to awaken over time and become conscious of my eternal self and multi-dimensional existence.
I’m not sure who I was negotiating with and who has enough control over my free will that I have to bargain with them to get permission to remember. Some parts are clear as mud. But I realize that on some level I am both and that connection to my own polarity of self and apparent other is reflected through all planes of existence from the lowest level here in third-dimensional physicality to the highest one at Source itself.
My mission is to experience this process of memory suppression to learn how to emerge out of it and move beyond it to consciousness and teach others how to do the same.
Janet (which means little God), began her journey and I, the soul with eternal awareness go in and out of consciousness to remain committed to life and the continuous process which permits humans to become conscious while learning the necessary lessons to grow and evolve.
I remain connected to higher beings that seem to be external to myself and not myself and to other parts of myself, my different incarnations and interdimensional manifestations of myself that simultaneously exist. Mainly I focus on myself, as human life is complicated and simple, highly stimulating and tedious, exciting and confusing all at once.
My mother felt confused, unable to integrate and fully experience motherhood. If humanity had a more advanced society, Mother most certainly would not have been permitted to raise children. In other worlds on other planets in the cosmos, children may be created from a variety of DNA to maximize his or her or its potential and are grown by others to optimize the education process of the soul. But here on Earth humans are not logical, are very emotional, simplistic, and programmed. They often subject dependent, tiny young people to older people who are incompetent or unqualified to be around children let alone be responsible enough for their total care and upbringing.
I, Janet, barely survived this infancy and toddler process of human existence. My mother was not really fully integrated, would be deemed mentally incompetent in most civilized cultures. But here, on Earth, she is/was my mother, and just because I came out of her womb that sufficient and made her fully qualified to raise, groom, educate and moderate me till I reached adulthood.
My father was not expected to do much of the daily parenting chores as my mother because in those days Dad was expected by society to go out and earn a living whereby he could support and wife and three children through his labor. In the 1950s through the early 70s, his solo income was barely sufficient as he was a mailman. We really could have used the income my mother would have generated. But since it was not socially acceptable in those days for most women to work outside the home and rear children at the same time, my mother stayed home to raise me. Needless to say, we were both miserable. But somehow, I survived.
Adapting to a human body proved most difficult. I had trouble controlling my urine and feces and wore a cloth diaper around my bottom to catch both whereby once those fluids projected out of my body they became cold, mushy, stinky, and unbearably uncomfortable. Since I could not talk, I was limited by screams that often resulted in cries and tears. I had little to no control over my emotions, and I was subject to frustration, anger on up to rage waiting for my mother to respond. I don’t recall my father ever-changing my diaper. As soon as I could gain control over those body functions, I vowed to never do such disgusting things again to myself. Somehow, by pure will and determination, I was successful.
Infancy was torturously slow and tedious. Bored stiff, I entertained myself by going out of my body and visited the in-between life place and traveled to other worlds. I was gone more often than not. I had such a precariously thin thread, barely an attachment to my human body at first; I would often forget that I owned my body at times. But there was this nagging thread that held me to form the astral chord. When stimulated or tugged by my mother or other humans who woke me through sound or action, it jerked me back into the body which evoked strong emotions followed by tears. Sometimes I’d awaken to horrible sensations of intense hunger. And there was always that disgusting reminder of cold urine and feces in the early years.
The people around me could be interesting if they found me attractive and attempted to engage me. I could fully understand what they were saying early on. But my vocal cords were under-developed, and I had difficulty coordinating the lips, tongue, air and at first, lack of teeth then later dealing with teeth which helped me form the appropriate sounds to communicate. Also, the teething process hurt like crazy.
When I did begin succeeding in articulating my desires and needs, I apparently progressed too fast and terrified my mother, who swore on some level she had given birth to a demon seed. Mother, Christian, was programmed in ridiculous human doctrine, feared me on some level. Telepathically I picked up that she both loved me and thought some demon was responsible for my existence. Later it dawned on me that maybe I was ritually created through some satanic demon process.
When I read “Rosemary’s Baby” in my middle teens, I swore I had stumbled upon “the truth.” But I dismissed it at that time while secretly curious about that movie and its sequels. Since those characters responsible for my conception are now long dead, I suppose we’ll never know.
I spoke too early too soon and too much. Mother was freaked out by my ability to speak full sentences and articulate elaborate concepts way beyond my years. She wished me dead. Since I was telepathic in those days, I got it. But I knew I was protected, so didn’t really overthink of it.
When Mother came in and saw me flying around the room, she really freaked out. I was able to levitate and astral project. While Mother was in the kitchen doing laundry, watching TV, and ignoring me, I’d entertain myself by practicing my levitation skills. I’d usually make three or more trips around the room then plop back into the crib with a loud bam. Then I’d laugh hysterically and do it again. June typically ignored it, so I was safe. But for some reason, she decided to check on her baby who was enjoying herself to the extreme, and I was busted. She freaked of course because babies in this reality don’t fly you well know.
At that point, my extraterrestrial/interdimensional guides and interdimensional friends knew they had to intervene or I would more than likely experience some kind of unfortunate “accident.”SHARE