Déjà vu or a sense that you’ve been or done something before is a common topic of conversation. Those of us who were raised to ignore that which cannot be measured (or isn’t in one of our religious texts) understand we’re supposed to wrinkle our noses when a sense of having lived before emerges. But what if we’re wrong to laugh it off? What if recurrent dreams of unfamiliar places and people are lost memories? What would knowing that mean to us now?
Having read MANY LIVES, MANY MASTERS and SAME SOUL, MANY BODIES by Dr. Brian L. Weiss, I suppose my blank mind is contaminated. Dr. Weiss declares flatly that his research has established that people do, indeed, reincarnate. Under hypnosis, his psychiatric patients often recall details (sometimes verifiable details) of previous lives that explain some of the seemingly inexplicable ailments they suffer. Many discover solutions that release their issues permanently. Dr. Weiss is certainly not the only person to accept previous lives as a simple fact of living. Accounts abound. However, he is one who attempted to verify the claims.
I’ll admit I find the idea of previous lives tremendously logical. Babies are born with definite personalities that some would attribute to genetics, although identical twins do not have identical personalities. The magnificence of life force defies study because it defies physical nature. We know it can define survival, health, and even distant communication. To think that life force simply happens and then goes away seems to me to be a grossly convenient argument that contradicts physics.
Recently, I was permitted a glimpse of what might have been one of my previous lives by a doctor who has developed an ability to perceive such things. She does not come from a vapor-laden den but from hard science. She provided the insight as clarification for a recurring weakness in my life—and my body.
The romantic appeal of having been someone else from a vastly different time and place – even someone unremarkable – is unmistakable. However, people in other times and places were, of course, merely people. They ate and struggled and died as we do. I was told that in another time I spoke out in a desperate attempt to save someone I loved from unjust execution. My words were ignored and my loved one was killed. Thus, it’s difficult for me to believe that my words will be heard and heeded—because, in fact, they rarely are. Is this a recurrent theme in my life? Yes. Could it have happened apart from a previous life? Oh sure, but my question about why a person as definite as I am should have such a problem over and over again does lead me to wonder why.
I recognize that many – women, especially – are hampered by a belief that what they have to say or contribute won’t be worthy of note. Society reinforces our insecurity. Does the inability to be heard come from insecurity, or insecurity from being invisible? Further, how do we change the situation? For me, with help, I’m attempting to reprogram my thinking so I can believe what I say is worthwhile for my listeners and me. That I have the courage to write this speculative post at all is proof I’m trying. Did I know you in another time? If so, why? What were we supposed to learn from one another? What are we supposed to be learning and sharing now?