I recently offered a Past Life workshop, and it got me thinking about a profound experience I had during a regression session I participated in as part of my in-residence training for certification as a Past Life Regressionist some years ago. I was astounded by the depth of the feelings that coursed through me as I was regressed, and I was both the man in that past life and my current female self at the same moment. My consciousness was bridging tens of thousands of years, and I had some unfinished business to attend to.
My study partner and I had prepared for the final exam: a live regression in front of the teacher and the other members of the class. I regressed him, and all went smoothly. “Piece of cake,” I thought. Then it was my turn on the table. I made myself comfortable, and my partner began the past life regression all the class members had practiced on each other for the week.
Following the soothing tones of his voice, I soon found myself in the middle of an intense experience I will remember for the rest of my life. The thing that surprised me was, while I was having the past life experience, my present-life physical body was actually involved as well.
I am a stocky, powerfully built man, and I am running full-out with a few other men I knew to be hunters of my tribe in pursuit of a large predator animal. It wasn’t until, as if from across time and space, I heard my partner ask me what I was pursuing. Between the inhalations of my screaming lungs, I grunted out the word ‘tiger’. My present-day self was shocked. I am an ancient man pursuing a sabre-toothed tiger!
I am intensely focused on my target. Every time my regression partner tried to move me down the time track of this life (he just wanted to complete the assignment, poor guy), I seemed stuck in this moment of chasing down the tiger. I had the sense we had been in pursuit for many days, but now had come within striking distance of the animal and there was no way I was not going to finish the job. Not now.
Lying on the table in front of the other students and the instructor, I was aware I was breathing as if I were actually running, but I could not slow my breathing down. My partner kept trying to move me forward. I kept chasing the tiger, unwilling to let go of the moment, but not yet understanding why.
Somehow, he managed to shift me a bit forward within the experience, to the point where we’d managed to kill the tiger, by saying, “The tiger is dead. Now what is happening?”
I don’t remember whether I verbally responded, or whether I just had the understanding that I was the leader of this group of people, and the tiger had discovered that small children are easy, tasty prey. One of the children killed by the tiger was my son. I swore to hunt the hunter and kill it after this happened. I set out after the beast with two, maybe three, other hunters from the tribe.
We tracked the sabre tooth for days before we finally got the opportunity to kill the thing that had been decimating our numbers. I took the teeth and made them into a necklace I wore in memory of my son until I died.
As I remembered the reason why we were chasing the tiger, I had a powerful physical response in my current body again, only this time I began to weep. The sobs seemed to come from deep inside me, and again, I didn’t seem to have any control over them.
My poor regression partner probably wanted to kill me at this point. He’d just gotten the situation under control, and here I was again, making his final exam difficult. It took him a couple of tries, but once more, he was able to move me out of that place of – what I understood as I wept the unshed tears from millennia before – deep grief and unexpressed sorrow.
As leader of the tribe, to display sadness was to show weakness. The leader could be challenged at the barest hint of indecision. I could not give myself the chance to grieve the loss of my only son, and killing the tiger – though it brought some measure of satisfaction – did not clear the sadness from the cells of my body, nor from the essence of my soul.
Unknowingly, I carried those unshed tears across time until, finally and unexpectedly, I was given the chance to express them.
The regression was a powerful experience that demonstrated to me the truth that we can run, or even reincarnate, but we cannot escape our past. The intense, important things we experience must be expressed, or we will carry them in our energy field until we do, no matter how long it takes, even if it is lifetimes.
There is powerful healing available for those who seek it. Past life regression is one of the ways we can find peace, even when we are not looking for it.
The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. ~Marcel Proust