Who was I? Spontaneous Past-life Memories
Updated: Jan 1, 2020
How is one able to access past-lives spontaneously? How is the brain, a three-pound organ, or a mere two percent of our total body weight, able to transcend the impossible vastness of time/space? Perhaps the brain, under certain conditions, is able to vibrate or tune into the same “frequency” as universal consciousness. This vibrational state may allow the retrieval of lives from a non-physical plane of existence (or etheric plane), also known as the Akashic Records.
Jim Tucker, M.D, current researcher and an associate psychiatry professor at the University of Virginia Medical Center’s Division of Perceptual Studies, believes the theory of non-locality (non-local consciousness) may explain how memories of one person might transfer to another lifetime. Tucker asserts:
“The discovery of quantum physics indicates the physical world is affected by, and even derived from the non-physical, from consciousness. If that’s true, then consciousness doesn’t require a three-pound brain to exist, and so there’s no reason to think that consciousness would end with it. “It’s conceivable that in some way consciousness could be expressed in a new life.”
I have had numerous past-life memories. All, except one, have occurred spontaneously (without hypnosis), while I was fully conscious. The "exception" happened while I was dreaming, in what is referred to as Theta, or “twilight sleep.” The human brain operates at five different frequencies; Delta, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Theta brain-waves. Theta waves are low frequency brain waves of the barely conscious states. They occur just before sleeping and just after awakening. Theta level dreams are associated with vivid imagery, intuition, and the ability to access information which lays beyond conscious awareness.
Regardless of how we access past-life memories, they are intensely vivid, multi-sensory, and multi-dimensional events. (They typically occur in 4 or 5 dimensions!)
Indeed, past-life recall has a cinematic, sensory “feel”. Imagine you are an audience member watching an intensely emotional movie. The film is a “biography” of your life, occurring in another time and place-the intense portrayal of a life once lived, featuring the emotional scars, the fears, and complexities of that particular life. The movie ends. You leave the theater-deeply affected by both the film and performances-touched to the very core of your being.
Carol Bowman, therapist, and past-life researcher describes past-life regression as:
“An amazing, full-sensory experience. You might experience the memory as a vivid movie or see only vague flashes of images that prompt the narrative. You might hear gunshots or explosions on a battlefield or music at a dance. It is possible to recall smells too: smoke from a fire, leather from a saddle, or the sweat of a dirty body. As the story unfolds, you feel real emotions appropriate to the story. You may cry when you re-experience deep sadness at the death of a beloved child, feel despair in the pit of your stomach as you witness a massacre, or elation at a long-awaited homecoming from war. And just as you can recall strong emotions, you feel the pain of an arrow piercing your body as you are dying, or the heaviness of a load you’re carrying on your back. These physical sensations and emotions are very real at the moment, but pass quickly as you move through the past life story and death.”
Each of my past life memories have taught me valuable and often profound lessons. Yes, several have produced spontaneous physical and phobic healings. Others, however, have been spiritually and emotionally transformational. I’m talking life-altering transformation on a soul/energetic/DNA level. It’s so difficult to put into words. Human vocabulary is utterly limiting in describing transcendent phenomena which defies human perception of space/time.
I recall at least two lifetimes in which I was callous, judgmental, indifferent, and yes, even cruel towards others. The memories of my heartless behavior have deeply affected me. In my current incarnation, I feel physical ill when a violent scene occurs on a television show. I become highly anxious if I see an individual being treated unkindly and am obsessed with justice.
Perhaps my abhorrence to violence is rooted in my past life as a highly esteemed Roman soldier. Recalling this life appalls me. I have always regarded the Roman Empire as an imperialist society who glorified violence. Gladiatorial combatants entertained bloodthirsty audiences, battling fellow gladiators, wild animals, and condemned criminals. Roman emperors were, by and large, infamous for tyrannical reigns of often perverse violence.
Just thinking about this fierce, often sadistic empire sickens me.
I always believed (or wanted to believe) that I had lived a glorious life in ancient Greece, a society unparalleled for its philosophical, artistic, scientific, political, and metaphysical contributions to Western society. A peaceful civilization, home to numerous great and historically unforgettable names: Hippocrates, Euclid, Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates. Thus, imagine my repulsion, when I spontaneously recalled a life in ancient Rome, described below:
I am a powerfully built soldier in the prime of my life; handsome, well-educated, and possessed with an innate, commanding presence. I am standing on the stairs of a sacred temple, overlooking a Forum, or ancient type of civic center. A throng of perhaps 1,000 individuals are wildly cheering my triumphant, victorious return from Caesar’s Civil War. I am dressed in a white tunic. A red paludamentum (a cloak or cape fastened at one shoulder, worn by military commanders) is draped around my shoulders. I look down at my feet, covered in high-quality leather sandals.
It is a warm, cloudless day. However, I do not feel like a hero. I feel like an imposter. I am, by nature, a kind, fair, and insightful man. Yet, I had allowed culture and familial expectations to push me into a life of violence. How had this happened? I was sickened by the knowledge that as a high-ranking soldier, I had ordered the killing of countless human beings. I felt conflicted, disgusted with myself, and immeasurably sad.
As suddenly as it began, that life faded, and I was once again in my current incarnation.
In this life I was a highly decorated Roman soldier serving under the command of Julius Caesar. Although a brilliant General, many viewed Caesar as cruel and ruthless, driven to expand the Roman Republic by his own personal greed. Certainly not a life I would choose in my current incarnation!
Yet, memories of that life have taught me invaluable lessons: the significance of simple kindness, compassion, justice, and acceptance in our everyday interactions with others. We may recall a particular abhorant past-life. Yet, with careful consideration of that particular existence, we may gain wisdom required to reach our highest potential...in this incarnation.