I have wanted to write about my experience with a Past Life Regression session for a while now so I have decided to talk about it here. Apparently, I am one of those people that is known as a ‘sensitive’. The experiences that have happened to me have been unexplainable and downright unusual, but they have happened all the same. Skeptics and critics are quick to dismiss paranormal experiences as works of the imagination or the first sign of lunacy – but I tend not to take such people very seriously. There is a narrow-minded stance about them that oozes of ignorance; that foolish belief that if one has not experienced or seen something themselves, then it must not be real. That’s like saying that if you haven’t seen the pyramids of Egypt then they must not exist. Mindbogglingly stupid.
Going back to being sensitive, I am the epitome of the word itself, mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. In the physical sense, I cannot even open an onion without my eyesight being blinded by water and in the emotional sense I am quick to burst into tears at the slightest inkling of pain and suffering of another, especially animals or children. Mentally (and emotionally) I experience the feelings and thoughts of others as though experiencing them myself and it makes me especially susceptible to other peoples’ distress. I despise crowds because of the overwhelming amount of emotion running through people and if I must enter one, I much prefer to enter it drunk, so I can at least numb out the myriad of feelings. Spiritually, there have been a number of times I have had interactions with spirits, not all pleasant ones – in fact, mostly negative ones – and on occasions, dreams that have had significant impact in the reality we are used to.
So I decided to go to a Past Life Regression therapist, out of sheer curiosity if anything. My view on past lives before embarking upon the session was simply neutral; I did not believe nor disbelieve; I went in with an open mind as I do about many things. I have been told by a number of people that I am an ‘old soul’ but I never really took much notice of it. The only thing I knew about ‘old souls’ is that they are souls that have lived many times before, in many different eras and bodies, and they learn a different lesson each time they incarnate back to earth. So I hunted around for a while, looking around for someone who could attempt to ‘regress’ me. I ended up speaking to several different therapists but the lady I chose was the very first one I spoke to. I liked her immediately and had a wonderful feeling about her; her genuine nature shone through. I booked my session with her and met her in Kensington some weeks later.
We went into a small, simple office and as soon as she started talking, strange shivers ran through me and I was absorbed in everything she had to say, even though most of it was small chit-chat. The more she spoke, the more I felt what she was feeling and thought what she was expressing. When she spoke about an experience she had where a close friend was involved in a car crash, tears came to my eyes and I felt her sadness. She carried on talking for some ten minutes. the shivers still running through me, and afterwards she told me that the reason she spoke to me was because she wanted to gain an idea of how well I could connect to her; she told me she strongly believed that, though it was my first time, I would regress quite easily.
The session began. I will not go into detail of exactly what was involved; I will only say that it took about half an hour to get me into the state of complete relaxation where my mind could be freed of all worries, anxiety, weight and anything at all really; and it was a truly wonderful feeling. The lady asked me questions about what I could see; at first, I recalled an extreme reluctance to speak and I knew why. The person I was now was a man and he felt embarrassed about speaking in a girl’s voice. But I (as in me the girl) pushed this aside and responded. I was wearing sandals and around me were several mountains. I was waiting for a friend to arrive. I was a big, strong man too, no doubt about that, and dressed in some kind of tunic. The lady asked me what had brought me to this place. Without hesitating, I explained that my wife lived here and I had moved here. We had two young sons. I was then asked my name; I recall the names ‘Adam’ and ‘John’ flashing through my mind as though they were part of some kind of slot machine, but then ‘Philip’ appeared and it stopped on that name; and I knew my name was Philip. The lady then asked me to fast forward to a number of years; when I did, a complete horror overwhelmed me; it was dark and there were men on horseback setting fire to my village, killing the inhabitants. She asked me where my family was. I burst into tears and told her I couldn’t see them. I explained to her that we (I and the other men) had tried to fight back but the men on horseback were too powerful. I cried continuously. I was then asked to fast forward again. When I did, I was sitting in an empty hut and there was a drink on the table. The lady asked me where I was; I simply replied that I was alone. She then asked me where my family was; well, I told her they were dead and then I started to sob, and this indescribable pain seeped through me. I was asked to fast forward to the age of 60 but I couldn’t; she then asked me to come to the end of my life. So I did and I knew I was 57. She asked me where I was; I told her I was on a cliff. I was standing on this cliff looking down into this black nothingness. She asked me why I was there; I explained that I was going to jump and that is exactly what I did.
After that, it took about five minutes to bring me back. When I opened my eyes I was back in the room again and quite exhausted from all the crying. The lady told me that I had to forgive the people who had killed my wife and sons but I couldn’t quite see how that was possible. She told me that the lesson of that life was not to commit suicide; and I think I’m doing pretty well up til now, but there is always something inside me, whispering at me to do it; however, I know I won’t because a successful lesson usually means acquiring a load of strength. The lady told me that I was a very old soul (‘How do you know that?’ I asked, to which she replied she didn’t know how she knew, she just did) and that I was a beautiful soul also, which was lovely to hear. I went away from that experience, not allowing doubt to overshadow my mind, and I knew that I had gained from it.
For it makes much sense to me; when I was very young, about five years old, I can vividly recall that if a member of my family had gone out somewhere, I would be gripped by this terrifying fear that they would not return, that they had met an accident or some other fatal catastrophe. I’ve always felt a very strong need to protect people I care about and if I fail to do this, a piercing guilt prevails. When I became depressed it was triggered without warning and for no reason; and this was no ordinary ‘adolescent depression’ this was a matter of life and death that took years of fighting to overcome. There was always that voice telling me to end it and even now it will slyly creep up on me; but I choose to fight back, not give in, and for this reason I am proud of my soul and what it has accomplished. There are many things I don’t fear and one of them is death, because my soul has known the worst, to lose the ones he loved the most, only to take his own life at the end. Hence any challenge that comes, I know I can face it head on.
Whether you are a believer or a skeptic, there is no denying the existence of the soul. It just depends how open you are to allow yourself to experience such things or how humble you are in realizing that arrogance is one of the worst human traits, and it is arrogance that causes a person to believe that if they have not seen it, then it never was there. In reality – and this is what most so-called realists fail to recognize – there is very little that we know at all and that is why nothing that is worth knowing can be taught, as the esteemed Oscar Wilde said. I believe that Philip is only one of my past lives; one other that I know of was a male musician who died at the age of 14. But he is another story, just one of the many stories that my soul has to tell me and, if I have the faith in myself that I truly believe I do, this life will be right up there with all the tragic, but crucial, stories my soul has already written.