In
2015 I documented a story about an individual, who remains lovingly
embedded in my heart. Fifteen years had passed before I was able to
sit down to write, knowing I would experience a flood of emotions I
had safely locked away in a special part of my soul. I wrote of
Glen's unanticipated death on Valentines Day in the year 2000, and
how my world changed forever more.
Glen
and I shared a connection I cannot even begin to describe, which even
in death remains strong and in tact. I don't feel the need to
question or make sense of our union. It just 'is' and feels
completely natural and beautiful. In fact, if there was ever any
doubt floating around in my head regarding life after death, Glen's
passing greatly surpassed any proof my belief system required. I am
certain we had met before, possibly often, in another time, another
place.
I
had always been intrigued with the concept of reincarnation and
diverse past lives, and during the year 2001, I stumbled across a
book that took my breath away. This book is called 'Many Lives, Many
Masters', by Dr. Brian Weiss, and is filled with incredible,
powerful, personal experiences and valuable insights. I related and
aligned wholeheartedly to its contents.
In
the nineties, when the book was published, Dr. Weiss was a
traditional psychotherapist, stemming from a scientific background.
When he believed his methods of therapy were failing, he turned to
hypnosis. One particular day Dr. Weiss was astonished and sceptical
when a client began to recall past life traumas that
seemed to hold the key to her present reoccurring problems. I was
amazed! During this era I too was counselling people with problematic
issues and welcomed the idea of hypnosis. I was excited to think how
easily people could heal themselves.
This
book fascinated me to no end and I had to find someone in
Melbourne who had been educated by Dr. Weiss, as I knew he conducted
seminars and workshops both nationally and internationally.
It
wasn't long before I found a professional, who had recently returned
from America under his guidance. I didn't hesitate to phone for an
appointment time!
I
remember parking outside an extravagant house in an upper class
Melbourne suburb. Sitting in my car I questioned how hypnosis would
work on me. I was hardly able to achieve falling into a meditative
state, so how could I possibly be hypnotised?! However, I quickly
attempted to put an end to my uncertainty by remembering there was
surely a good reason I had arrived at this point and to have faith in
the process. I proceeded to ring the door bell.
I
was warmly greeted by a middle aged man with a lovely, approachable
manner, who instantly put me at ease. We sat down in his impressive
study for an introductory chat, and I explained my purpose for the
consultation was to explore a past life regression. I disclosed I had
read Dr. Weiss's fascinating book and was familiar with his
technique, and that I was a little concerned I may not be the most
cooperative person to regress, but certainly not through a lack of
enthusiasm. The practitioner reacted with confidence and eagerness to
commence.
I
sat in a comfortable arm chair, eyes closed, listening to this man's
quiet, rhythmic voice directing me to sink further and further into a
relaxed state. I'm not sure how long this process took, but
eventually he counted backwards from ten very slowly, and as he
arrived at number one he asked me to walk through a doorway, which
through visualisation, I was standing in front of. Curiously I
proceeded and instantly knew, without yet witnessing, I had entered
into a strange, yet familiar environment.
I
then heard the therapist's voice prompting me to look down at my feet
to decipher my footwear, if any at all. From this one gesture, my
mind suddenly opened up to a vivid scene, as if it were a movie on a
large screen and I was one of the starring actors!
I
certainly was wearing shoes, but none I had any memory of owning.
They were very simple, brown, leather slip-ons, complimenting the
plain, long, brown tunic and creamy colored shirt/top I wore. My dark
hair was tied up in a long braid hanging down to my waist, which was
accentuated by some sort of string. I was of medium height and build
and in my mid twenties. Happily married, with a son aged eight and a
little girl aged six, I lived a busy, tiresome lifestyle, but a
simple, happy one. I seemed carefree and content.
I
felt this was an English Medieval existence and I was a peasant
farmer's wife, residing in a small, quaint village consisting of a
cluster of basic homes of straw, mud and wood. I sensed our humble,
close, farming community efficiently and calmly went about the day,
while living off the land and supporting each other as much as
possible. It felt an uncomplicated, satisfying and rewarding
existence.
After
exploring my lifestyle a little more in detail, the therapist asked I move forward in time to a particular, significant episode, which
may have occurred...
The
scene changed to a pitch black night. Our village was quiet, my
beloved family sound asleep. Suddenly there was shouting, screaming,
children crying and the galloping of horses to be heard. The night
had come alight with fire balls thrown onto the roofs of village
houses. People and animals were running in all directions, many being
killed by vicious horseman. The cool air was filled with the stench
of smoke and fear, and death.
I
sensed the ambush was a jest to the soldiers, who happened to be
passing through. Their laughter echoed across the land as they killed
in cold blood. Our men on foot tried their best to protect the
village, but many died instantly by the sword. There was bloody chaos
everywhere.
My
husband screamed for me to take the children to the river as fast as
I could and frantically rushed outside to assist his peers. I feared
for all our safety and hurriedly lifted my daughter up onto my hip,
while I grabbed my son's hand, and we ran as fast as we could through
a paddock to the water's edge, urging other women with their children
to follow. There I left my offspring in the care of a neighboring
friend and cautiously and quickly made my way back to assist the
weaker.
As
I hurriedly hooked my
arm through
an
elderly woman's,
I
looked
up and saw my husband not far away,
desperately
avenging the
unexpected attackers.
His back was turned when I spotted him. Then, in a split second he
faced me, and before I could even think to warn him, a horseman came
charging through the blood bath and swung his sword forcefully,
striking
it into
my husband's back as he rode past. As if in slow motion, my beloved's
eyes pierced into mine as he fell to his death onto the ground. It
was the first time I had
seen
his face clearly throughout the regression and I
instantly recognised those distinctive, deep, dark eyes to be Glen's.
Oh my god!
The
therapist again quickly prompted me to move forward in time to shield
me from the emotions of shock and grief, which
accompanied this event. He asked me to determine how I experienced my
own death in this lifetime..
From
the day I buried my spouse, I lost
my will to live. I knew I had responsibilities I needed to
honor and spent the remaining years numbly and
half heartedly farming, supporting the elderly and
assisting young mothers, who had also tragically lost their husbands.
I loved, taught and cared for my children, and
when they were old enough to fend for themselves and to marry,
I was satisfied my purpose was complete.
I fell sick at the age of thirty-six and had no desire
to fight my illness, which quickly
consumed me. However, predominantly I
died of a broken heart, as I never recovered from the grief of
the sudden, violent trauma of losing my precious mate.
I
remember the empathetic practitioner decided then it was time to
assist me to return to the room. Once I was fully present, we
debriefed and discussed the phenomenon at length and all the assorted
emotions I was feeling, and placed them into a perspective I could
easily comprehend, easily digest. However, all I could think was I
had lost Glen not once, but twice.
As
far as being hypnotised, I obviously carried a preconceived idea of
how deep one sinks into self. I have to admit I was completely aware
of... well,... everything during the process. I was most certainly in
a relaxed state, however whether I'd call it trance-inducing is
arguable… and if I'm completely honest, I came out of the
experience questioning whether I had imagined the story I revealed,
or whether it really did rise from deep within my subconscience?
Although, where would I have suddenly pulled this experience from,
when throughout my life, I'd hardly given a second thought to
medieval times? The scene unfolded so easily too! I didn't then and
still don't believe today I am gifted to possess a quick, creative
imagination such as this.
So
yes, I am convinced this event is an authentic lifetime I have
experienced with Glen and it also demonstrated my intuition was
correct.
'I
had indeed known and loved Glen in
a previous lifetime.'
Now
that I have written this particular account, which is one I have been
meaning to write for years, it has only just occurred to me, through
the written word, how many similarities I have discovered within both
this documented past life and my life today:
-
I wore thick, dark, braided hair down to my waist until I was in my late thirties.
-
I am a farmer's wife and reside within a supportive, farming community.
-
I adore living on the land with many animals.
-
I chose to have our home built of timber and painted inside and out with earthy, neutral tones.
-
I love all natural materials and colors.
-
I've passionately and joyfully assisted others ever since I can remember.
-
On both accounts of Glen's passing, I felt powerless to save him.
-
I've had to deal with Glen's sudden death a second time and if I'm honest, I'm still not much good at it.
I'm
astounded, that's
quite a list! So
what's my
lesson
in
all of this?
I
have always imagined,
if
we don't succeed in mastering our particular chosen life lessons
through our
intended
situations,
we
may
again
choose
to be
presented
with
similar
lessons
via
different
scenarios.
This
may
eventuate
in the same lifetime or another
– until we
acquire
valuable,
insight
and
growth.
I've
sat
contemplating
my pre-existence
with
Glen over
the
last few days, digging deep to reach the truth, my truth. I
feel
I must
resolve
this lesson,
as I do not want to possibly
have
to face Glen's death a third time, in yet another physicality. I
couldn't bear it.
There
are many contrasting themes, which unfolded
throughout
both
my
lives with
Glen, however
I feel I may have finally
arrived at a
significant
common
denominator. After
he
was buried in this life, I again grieved
quietly
and
in solitude
for a long time.
I
was
extremely independent and thankfully
lived
on my own, as
I
looked
forward to and appreciated
the privacy at
the end of each day. My responsibilities entailed challenging
work
commitments and keeping an eye on my family, and
that was pretty much it at the time. Most
evenings were
free to mourn
without the daytime
camouflage.
I
know
a
part
of me died with Glen that awful day in the year 2000, and
my
world took a
major turn.
Throughout
my life I
have
consistently
possessed
a certain drive,
and reliably
fulfilled
expectations, or
assisted
where I could. While
this
has
continued
post
Glen,
the
energy
around
this has
somewhat
modified.
I've
persistently
loved,
cared
for,
nurtured,
honored
my jobs, tasks, roles, what have you, throughout
the many
diverse
roads life has taken
me down
over
these last seventeen years,
however I now
carry
a subtle,
underlying
edge
of despondency towards myself – similar
direction
as
in
my
past life. It's
not that I believe I am unworthy
and
put myself through an
all-together
unhealthy wringer,
I
could just
do
a
whole lot better
if
I chose to.
I
guess
I
care a little less
knowing,
with
quiet anticipation, eventually
a
reunion awaits with all I have soulfully
loved
and lost in
this
lifetime,
and
who
are
all
minding
a small,
personal
piece
of my heart until
I return home. Surely
others, who have loved and lost, feel this way too.
It's
not that I want
to accelerate
my
homebound
journey,
I
just
don't wish to prolong
it... and
I'm
guessing,
this just
could be
my most
predominant
lesson
I
need to grasp!
I
actually
do
believe
there's
no reason to miss my loved ones, for
we will
be reunited again
in
no time, life
is short…
and
why not
give myself as much love and respect as I do others? Isn't
it
time I
nurture my
mind, body and soul holistically
and whole-heartedly?
Isn't my body my temple? I
tend to ignore
this
fact often.
I
know if I
aspire
to feel
my
best
on
all levels (whatever
benchmark my best is at
the time),
the
life lessons I planned to conquer in this lifetime, will flow toward
me with ease and
grace - however
they choose
to appear.
I
am not
to
waste
a single second of this
existence,
and
if I heed the signs and guidance
always around me and
become accordingly
proactive,
I
will return home one day with great personal, subjective achievements
– ones
I had intended to fulfil all
along, I'm sure.
I
know this
to be my truth. My
challenge is to fuel
it
with powerful,
passionate
emotions,
which
in
turn
will
encourage
creative,
physical
motivation
to
live my life to the fullest, while
perhaps appreciating my underlying
grief to
be a crucial stepping stone towards
enlightenment.
Maybe
I will even
thank
it one day, who
knows?
This
way I will surely,
successfully
complete my lessons…
and
just maybe, I will be spared of losing Glen again.
'You
are not here by
accident
or by some
coincidence
of nature. You
are
a spiritual being
learning
lessons of love in
this
earth school.'
By
Dr. Brian Weiss.
