A couple years ago, I did something really cool and out of the ordinary. I had a past-life regression. I did it as research for the novel I was working on that involved reincarnation, karma and soul mates/twin souls. It was everything I expected and more.
I walked into the small, comfortable office, nervous and full of expectation. We discussed the process of regression and we began. My mind fought it at first. I was scared to know what would happen and what I would discover, but soon I relaxed and I found myself standing on soft, sandy soil in bare feet, staring at a doorway filled with sunlight. I was native and my father was giving me away to three strange men who, in trade, had given him a cart full of something I wasn’t allowed to see.
I was terrified and the resentment I felt toward my father was greater than anything I’ve ever known, in that lifetime or this. The biggest resentment I had was knowing I’d never see my grandmother again. Words were spoken, the goods were traded and I followed these three men down a long beaten path to a future I was terrified to face. The clumps of grass along the road were tall and lead into pine forests. The soil under my feet was sandy and I followed...and followed. Two of the men were shorter than the third and they spoke in a language I didn’t understand, but their hungry backward glances informed me of their deepest, dirtiest thoughts. The third, taller man seemed to be the boss and he tempered their behavior. But still, I was scared. I walked slower and slower, falling further and further behind the men, but they didn’t notice. As soon as I had a chance, I ran. I ran through the pine trees and tried to hide. The men took chase and I evaded them, until I came to a ravine. I had nowhere to go. I watched stones and dirt tumble over the edge and considered jumping-considered ending it all so I wouldn’t have to suffer the pain I was certain would come, but then the taller man showed up. Our eyes met, and something told me that I’d be safe. He coaxed me away from the ravine and we continued on to the settlement. I was still unsure of my future, but I knew as long as Erik was near me, I would be safe. I would be okay.
The lifetime I experienced in the following two hours of my regression was full of strife and love. It was epic and unbelievable.
I left the office with more questions than answers, and it was those answers I sought. Did this really happen? I recognized the souls of several of the people in my past lifetime and knew they were present in my life now, but what did it mean?
I started researching native lifestyles, cultures and interracial marriages in the 1600-1700’s and came up with nothing. I knew what my village looked like and found that the dwellings in the Cherokee nation were the most similar, but what about the sand? I visited Plymouth and considered visiting the Cherokee reservations to find answers, but I gave up. What did it matter? It’s my past...or very possibly a contrived, made-up story that my mind conjured up. Nothing made sense, so I let it go. I convinced myself that I was an author...I loved creating different realities, so that’s what my mind did.
Well, I was wrong. It’s funny how when you give up on something that isn’t meant to be forgotten, it gets shoved back in your face with a vengeance.
My family and I visited Williamsburg last week, as well as Jamestown. My husband and I had been there before, and I remember feeling a connection years ago, but it was long forgotten. Did these distant, buried memories help create an imaginary past life experience? No, because when we visited Jamestown so many years ago, we only visited Jamestown National Park, not the Jamestown Settlement. The landscape, the native dwellings, the colonial settlements, everything matched what I remembered in my regression, but more than that, the words at the museum echoed in my soul- Native women were traded for goods to try to enhance the relationships between the natives and settlers. It happened, quite regularly in the area. Then I saw the church. It looked exactly like the church in which I married Erik. I was blown away. But what about the ravine that I almost used to jump to my death? The landscape is flat now, but we were told, that 300-400 years ago, there were many ravines, but they have since been filled by the James and York Rivers.
Still one question was left to be answered. In my regression, I was traded for something that Eric had made. I caught a glimpse of his work place and knew it was some type of metal working, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Then we visited Williamsburg. I walked into the gunsmith, and then I knew. He was a gunsmith. I was traded for guns.
The puzzle pieces all came together. I now understood more than I ever thought I would.
In that lifetime, I greatly resented my father for giving me away, but my life turned out okay. I married a man who loved me deeply and though my belief system and race caused a tremendous amount of strife to those who were less accepting, we lived a life full of love and happiness. I remember the birth of our children. I remember Erik’s death. I was by his side. And I remember mine and my children were there with me.
Was this regression real? Did I really live this past life? I’ll never know. I gave up on believing on it, but now...well, I found solid proof that it may have really happened.
Causes Courtney Filigenzi Supports
American Cancer Society
Army of Women