Stepping Into My Past Lives: A Cold and Bitter End

blacksmith Past Life Regression is based on the idea that our past experiences affect our current lives. I went to a well-known therapist in the field, Norton Berkowitz Ph.D., to find out more about my own past lives in the hopes of healing from various physical and emotional pains. What you are about to read is the story of a life I once led.

(This is the second post in the series. For more info on past life regression and the hypnosis process, check out the first installment, "She Never Came Back.")

I was standing on what seemed to be a dirt path.

What kind of shoes was I wearing? Dr. Berkowitz asked.

My shoes were soft leather ... they felt like slippers, I explained. My hair was chin length, maybe a bit longer, and strawberry blonde ... I was wearing what felt like tights or stockings, but thicker. More like leggings.

Was I male or female? Dr. Berkowitz wanted to know.

Male, I said.


How old was I?

Thirteen, I answered.

I was a 13-year-old boy, and I lived in medieval France. My name was William. I was walking through the woods surrounding my village, on my way to meet someone ... a girl. I wasn't supposed to meet this girl, I was supposed to be doing something for my mother, some sort of errand. Something I didn't want to do.

The images were getting cloudy. Dr. Berkowitz told me to go forward in time, to skip ahead to William's adulthood. He asked me my age again.

Twenty-four, I answered.

The 13-year-old boy with butterflies in his stomach was gone. I sat at some sort of bench, pounding hot pieces of metal. The roof over my head was low and the room was dim except for a sliver of light coming from the door ... and the hot orange embers that kept burning my hands.

More From The Stir: Little Boy Who Lived a Past Life Reveals Creepy Details

Then I was in a hut of some kind, like a little house. I was sitting by the fire, feeling angry and agitated. There was a baby crawling nearby, and an older toddler ... both children were girls. They were beautiful little things, my daughters, but I was irritated by their presence. Like I was irritated by the presence of their mother, my wife, also beautiful. I was complaining about something, stomping my foot. My wife scooped up the baby in her arms and looked at me with disgust.

How old is William when he dies? Dr. Berkowitz asked.

Twenty-four, I said.

How does he die? Dr. Berkowitz wanted to know.

Suddenly I was lying on some kind of cot in the same little house, shaking violently. I was covered in sweat but felt freezing cold; sharp pains stabbed through my chest when I tried to breathe.

Did William go into the light when he died or is he still with you? Dr. Berkowitz asked.

He's still with me, I said.

Where is he?

Standing right there, I said, pointing to my left side. William stood there, glaring at me. The expression on his face reminded me of Sid Vicious.

He's so mad at me, I said.

It's time to guide William to the light, said Dr. Berkowitz.

William resisted taking my hand, but as we moved towards the warm white light, his face softened. I saw him smile before the light enveloped him completely.

By now, as with my first post, you're probably wondering what relevance this story has to my current life. Unlike Petla, there aren't nearly as many obvious connections for me to make with William ... I'm still trying to figure out the puzzle.

But this much I know ... I've always been one of those people who's chilly all the time (yes, I know how irritating we can be). And since William left me, I haven't been nearly as sensitive to the cold. I've also been slightly (slightly) less impatient with my kids.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Stepping Into My Past Lives, when a memory from the 1960s explains one of my biggest fears.

Have you ever wondered about your past lives?

Image via WrldVoyagr/Flickr

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