Four Past Lives

A Small Cactus Living Large

A Small Cactus Living Large


January 4, 2016 11:08 AM

I wrote the following for the book this morning. Since I’m not sure it will make it to the final manuscript, I’m including it below. It’s a first draft, so forgive any grammar errors or general clunkiness.

Four of My Past Lives

After my first, unexpected recollection of my 11th century Scottish past life, I decided to see if I could recall other lives using the same rapid breathing technique that my friend Sula had introduced me to (a method similar to holotropic breathwork).

Over the course of a few months I would “recall” over a dozen past lives, but only three of these experiences were recalled all at once in the manner of my first past life memory. The remainder were recalled scene-by-scene, where I wouldn’t know what was going to happen next. I have since disregarded these scene-by-scene recollections for two reasons:

  1. They did not feel nearly as powerful as the “recalled all at once” past lives.
  2. The scene-by-scene experience differs too much from the way I recall normal memories (all at once), so I attribute these to imagination brought on by trying too hard to recall a previous life.

But that still left me with four, powerful past lives which were vividly recalled. Properties of each of these lives still affect me today. Below I present them in the order I believe they were lived.

The 11th century Scotsman. In this life (discussed above), I committed suicide by jumping off a cliff. While I do not have any fear of heights, I do have a fear of falling which I discovered when I first parachuted out of a helicopter in the Army. When jumping from a military plane, your body is buffeted around by the blast of air and there is no sense of falling before the chute opens, but when jumping from a helicopter, you have almost a six second free fall before the chute deploys and it was then that I discovered that I was terrified of falling. Heights don’t bother me in the least, but the thought of falling fills me with an almost physical dread.

I attribute this odd combination (comfortable with heights but terrified of falling) to life in the coastal region of the Scottish highlands—I was very familiar and comfortable with cliffs and their heights, but had never known what the act of falling would feel like… until it was experienced first-hand upon my suicide.

Additionally, because of the traumatic effect of religion on that life (I left my wife to join a Christian monastery and she killed herself because of it), I suspect this is why I have always been suspicious of the motivations of organized religions (I often tell new acquaintances, I may be the most spiritual person you’ve ever met, but I don’t have a religious bone in my body).

American Indian. This was a very pleasant life somewhere around the Great Lakes region of North America. I’m not sure of the century, but we had no contact with other races or cultures. It was a peaceful time period with no warfare with other tribes or peoples. I had three wives and numerous children and grandchildren. I remembered somehow knowing it was time to die (of natural causes), climbing a bluff overlooking a valley and lying down in the grass to await a very peaceful death.

I attribute this previous life to my deep love, attraction and connection to nature. At the time of this writing, I have been living as a full-time “nomad” for the last seven years, mostly in national forests and other public lands.

African Slave Woman. Probably the 18th century. Captured and raped repeatedly while chained in the dark hold of a large wooden ship at sea. After gravely injuring one of my attackers, I was tossed into the sea (still chained) and drowned.

Oddly enough I have absolutely no fear of water nor drowning, indeed, I feel safe, secure and comforted by the embrace of the sea while swimming. I attribute this seeming contradiction to my attitude as the slave woman: The sea (and drowning) were a welcome release from terrible suffering.

Additionally, I have a strong aversion to powerful people, particularly dominant women (a sexual aversion to dominant women). This can be understood when you consider the affects of repeated rapes by members of the opposite sex.

Norwegian Ship Builder. Late 18th or early 19th century? This was a pleasant life. I had a son (my current nephew) but don’t remember my wife. I died when a large, thick board sprang loose from the front keel of a ship I was helping to build. I had just enough time to start to duck when the board struck me in the forehead, killing me instantly.

This is a good example of birthmarks being reflected in the current life as I have an odd indentation in my skull (left forehead) remarkably similar to what the edge of a board would make, and an unusual “wrinkle” in the skin above the hairline of my right forehead. I was not aware of either of these “birthmarks” before this memory (I found the indentation immediately after recalling this life because my hand went straight to that part of my skull as I relived the experience, and the “wrinkle” I only discovered after I started shaving my head).

These examples should not be thought of as evidence, since I have no way to verify their authenticity, but I present them to serve as some examples of what we’ve learned about the Soul: “Lesson” type lives alternated with “resting” type lives; how these lessons from past lives affect our attitudes/emotions in our future lives; and how physical trauma from a previous life can result in birthmarks or defects in future lives.

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6 thoughts on “Four Past Lives

  1. I think this should be included, along with suggestions as to how others can discover their own past lives, if that is something that can be taught. It would really help sell the book.

  2. This made for very interesting reading Wayne. I think spiritual books are enhanced with personal stories such as these.
    I LOVE the cactus and the great photo composition. It is on my bucket list to see cacti growing in the wild some day.

  3. So many words pointing to something that cannot be seen, only experienced directly.
    It is either experienced or it is not.
    It is either interpreted accurately, or it is not.
    What is it that is aware of this experience?
    What is it that wakes up each morning and perceives the world?
    Affix a label such as ‘soul’ or ‘intelligence-energy’ or ‘The Absolute’ and it down-samples into a mere object.
    It is not an object. It is prior to objects and concepts about objects and concepts about concepts, etc. etc.
    Shut the conceptual spigot off and there is just what is staring us in the face each morning. Thinking of this as just a future past life doesn’t make it any better. There is still this body to take care of. There is still a functioning, a purpose, a duty to perform. There are chores and problems and obligations and relationships. Those of us stuck in one place can only watch folks like you do the wondering, both literally and figuratively, documenting your meanderings, struggling to make sense out of it all. But in the end of ends, what has it all been for? Reincarnation is like having to repeat High School a thousand times. What on earth for? Perhaps that is the real definition of Hell and escaping from this karmic wheel is the true definition of Heaven. But that’s just more words thrown on the bonfire of all vanities.

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