Contrasting Deaths

This client – let’s call her Anne – saw the unexpected endings of two very different lives as a man providing for a family. One life was completely integrated with the natural world. The other one took place in an man-made, urban environment where civil unrest created insecurity. From an online Quantum Healing Hypnosis session in April, 2018. For more details and comments by the client, see this follow-up post after reading the story below.

Past life #1

In the first scene of the session, Anne saw herself as a North American Native man hunting in the woods at night with a bow and quiver. He was wearing moccasins and light tan-coloured clothes, and felt very much at home in the woods, healthy and light on his feet.

I asked her to move forward to when the man was arriving home so we could see where he lived. His people were living in tipis. There were racks for drying food and stretching hides. He had brought a deer back, and his partner took charge of the carcass. They were both tall with good posture and balance, with long black hair, and wore tunics, the woman’s tunic longer than the man’s.

Sitting down to eat around a fire were a group of family and friends: people of all ages including kids, eating meat and something made of corn. The were other fires in the village with other groupings of people. The encampment was in a clearing, The prairie was more wooded in those days, not as dry as it is now; there were more streams and rivers, and more rain.

I asked about the tools that were used for cutting the meat. “I think they’re stone. Maybe slate. And my partner was slicing the belly open and doing all that stuff. She’s very good at it.” Stone tools would suggest a time period before contact with Europeans.

I asked her to move forward to an important day in that life. “Hurried movement. It’s a feeling of having to move camp. Emergency bugout. Keeping tabs on everyone, and ‘Ok, what’s going on? What’s happening? Are we going to have time to move everything?’ It’s not clear yet what’s going on. Is it a skirmish? An invading force? Or is it a flood?” The answer came soon: “River’s overflooded. And we’ve got to get as much of the camp out as possible without endangering people. A lot of water. And I think most people have [got to safety]. I might be one of the last there, by the river. But it was to make sure the others got away. I’m not in a position to see if they are safe.”

“Are you safe?” I asked.

“Ah – that was not the first of my concerns. The first of my concerns was making sure that they got out, and that’s what my focus was on. So I don’t know. I think I died here.”

“Take us to just before you die,” I said, “the last minute before you die, and tell me what the scene is.”

“Movement of water and debris. I’m surrounded by water, and debris from maybe a beaver dam. There are logs. What you would expect if a beaver dam broke.”

“So what are your feelings here, just before you leave the body? What are you thinking about?”

“The people who got away. Just hoping that the people got away. And that I can’t see them anymore. I’m not with them anymore.”

“Tell me what happens as you leave your body. What do you see?”

“A lot of debris, scattered debris.”

“So what happens to your spirit now, as you leave your body? Where do you go?”

“Kind of looking at the scene, hovering above it, processing its scope.”

“It was pretty sudden?”

“Yeah! There really wasn’t any warning.”

“So you’re figuring out what happened?”

“Yes, and the shock of it.”

“So now where do you go?”

“Ancestors.”

“How do you meet them? What’s that like? Do you go to them? Do they come to you?”

“A bit of both. The feeling of being up in the sky a bit, and being greeted and welcomed, and just that continuity. They’re dressed the way I’ve been dressed, and that continuity of the extended family – there’s very much continuity of identity in terms of being a part of this group. So now that I’ve processed what happened, I am not significantly changed.”

“Is that a surprise?”

“I am with others of my kin, my clan, just as I was when I was in the village. These are ones who have gone to the other side before me.”

“So do you talk about your life, your role, with them? Do you do that with them, or later?”

“Yeah. Same way you tell stories around the fire.”

“So looking back on that life now, with your clan, what were the lessons that you learned in that life?”

“Just a great interconnectedness. And feeling so connected with the natural environment. And just being one with the earth and nature. No fear of dying. I didn’t fear it and I didn’t resent it. The panic of the village was the hurry. Let’s get as many people away from the rushing water as possible. But when I was surrounded by the water and the debris, there was acceptance. It was: ‘This is what’s happening. This is not an issue.'”

“Was there a purpose to that life?”

“Energy. Holding the energy, feeling the energy, and the pattern. Feeling that continuity of connection and being, and the easy transition. Being a hunter in the woods, feeling so light and healthy in body, with the woods and the land so full of life. Going into the woods and coming out with a deer, and knowing that the deer did the same thing I did: it dropped its body, it had a sense of continuity, it was just part of the flow. So just as the debris from the beaver dam upstream came down and moved with the water, so too my body became part of that debris. And it wasn’t a sense of returning to my ancestors, it was that the family that I was with in body went in one direction and I went in another direction. It was just two flows of the same water. Those still in body who scrambled away from the water, and those who pulled me out. Same-same. All just a different part of the flow.”

Past life #2

After a bathroom break, the session resumed. I asked Anne to tell me what happened next, thinking that we would explore the between-lives experience and perhaps learn about the planning of her current life.

But instead she found herself in a different kind of life in a European city during the Industrial Revolution. “More buildings – a more structured, different mentality.” She was in a male body again, wearing fine woolen trousers and boots, a long overcoat and a hat. He was in his forties, a bit plump but reasonably healthy, Caucasian, with a fleshy face and beard, and he carried a walking stick.

He lived in a row house in a city, with a few steps up to the door from the street. There was a sidewalk or walkway in front of the house. On entering the house, he was met by a middle-aged woman who seemed to be a housekeeper. There were gas lamps and ornate furniture; it was a middle class home in the early Victorian period.

Moving to a dinner scene, there were several children, well dressed and well fed. He felt a particularly strong connection with the eldest daughter who was intelligent and had a sense of importance in the family. Their mother appeared at the dining table and the housekeeper served.

I asked the client to move forward to an important scene in that life. “It’s been raining. I’ve got my hat and coat on. I’m just outside the house, and I’m looking left, down the street. I’m looking for where the activity is. Am I looking for traffic? Just as you were talking about changing the scene, I was thinking, ‘Oh, it’d be nice to be nice and warm in bed,’ and I was picturing myself getting nice and comfortable in my house, the comfort of being indoors in my nice warm house and maybe going to bed at the end of the day, and just when you said, ‘Be there now,’ it’s like I’m snapping to the outside. I think I’m more comfortable being indoors. I was enjoying being in the house, surrounded by kids and family, and the comforts of being indoors. But here I’m outside, and it’s not the most pleasant weather. It’s more stark outside. Because – well, there’s other people’s elements there.

“So what’s going on down the street?”

“Well, looking to the left and seeing the street empty, seeing the rain and a streetlight, seeing the water glistening on the ground, reflecting off the surfaces, but I haven’t quite turned my head to the right. And I don’t know if that’s – might I have been struck by traffic? Might something have been happening that was going to come from the right that I hadn’t quite – I didn’t know it was coming. I was just coming off the sidewalk – I was much more comfortable in my nice warm house.”

“So you’re feeling uncomfortable right now. Are you standing up?”

“Yes. I’m standing up, so I see that there’s nothing to the left, or directly in front of me. I haven’t quite turned my head to the right.”

“And something might have hit you from the right.”

“Might have. I don’t know.”

The personality was frozen at a particular moment in time, unable to turn to look to the right, and confused. I was starting to suspect that he had been shot and killed. I continued to ask questions. “So you’re bewildered. How are you feeling?”

“I think I was concerned. I was sort of on the alert that this isn’t the safest – it wasn’t really in my comfort zone. Maybe on a nice warm sunny day I would have felt more at ease.”

“Something about your character likes comfort.”

“Yeah. Kind of had it good. Nice house, good income, all the comforts you could really want.”

“So what’s happening now? You’re struck suddenly. Look around the scene and tell me what happened. See it as an observer.”

The long answer showed the extent of his confusion and rumination as his mind tried to make sense of what had happened. “It’s as if traffic came down, and I don’t know if it was – might have been a horse and coach, or – I don’t know that I was alerted by noise to something happening. Maybe war. Maybe some noise from outside. A sense of something going on, but whether I was going to go out of the house on my own accord for my own purposes or if I was just responding to what was going on outside – it could have been both; that for some reason, whatever the weather was doing, being outside wasn’t so advisable. Might not have been that safe. Maybe there were things going on in the city. Maybe a riot. Maybe a crackdown of some sort, or something political that didn’t make being out and about, especially in the evening, all that safe. It’s evening, and the streetlights are on. There’s a gas light off to the left, and it was the light from that that I saw gleaming off the roadway, and the row of houses on my side of the street in particular, and that was clear. There was no one down there. But looking to the right, I don’t think that was as well lit, and there seemed to be more noise, more activity coming from the right. Darker.”

“So you’ve just been hit by something – something has stopped you in your tracks, would you say?”

“I think so. And – maybe there was political unrest. Was it police, or some sort of authority, doing things?”

“So you’re trying to figure it out? But where are you?”

“I’m not too far from my house. I’m maybe just a little bit to the right of my door with my house to my back, and I’m off the steps to my house, so I’d be on the sidewalk, a little bit to my right.”

“So have you left your body? Are you still in your body?”

“Hmm. I might have left my body. I’m not quite sure. I’m in a bit of a shock. I can’t see what’s to the right. And I’m wanting to know. I’m curious.”

“Alright, where’s your body right now? Look at your body.”

The client paused. “It might be on the ground. It might be on the ground. Yeah.”

“And you’re standing up?”

“And I’m standing up.”

“Now look at your body. Do you see any injury: bullet hole, damage –”

“It might have been a bullet. Something to the head, maybe. More so than the rest of the body.”

“Take a close look at the head. See if you can see any marks of injury.”

“I feel like it’s on the right side.”

“Take a close look. You can see what happened.”

“I’d say probably a bullet or a shot. Yeah. I’m out of my body, so my body may be in the throes of last breaths, trying to still breathe. It might not be completely finished with that process, but the damage is to the head, and I’m trying to – my body is going–” she was breathing intensely in and out, “my chest expanding. Um-hum.”

“Well, tell me what happens next? Where do you go, what do you see?”

“Still kind of in the street, looking around.” Then she starts remembering the previous life and comparing it. “Definitely a different mentality, different mindset from that previous one. A lot more uncertainty about what happens next. Less connection to the natural rhythms. More a sense of being alone, and isolated and having to figure out life on my own in this lifetime, than in the previous one.”

“In the life as well as the death?”

“Yeah. Feeling safer at home, and feeling very fortunate, very lucky that I had a decent income, and I could provide for my family in a decent way, and that I could create that comfort, and that I had that to retreat to. Because the world could be scary. Unsafe, when you don’t really have control over things outside your house. And so when I was walking to the house, coming home, I had that anticipation of the family there, and the dinner, and the trappings, the life that my income had allowed me to create, having that sense that being outside is not always safe.”

“Evidently. So, allow yourself to take your last breath from that poor body in sudden shock. Tell me what happens when you are released from the body.”

“There’s a gradual lightening. Feeling – lifting up, into the light. So it doesn’t look like it’s nighttime anymore, and the scene is fading away, and I’m going up, just as I went up in the other one. But I’m going up and it’s probably more of the Judeo-Christian idea of going up into the light.”

“Do you meet anybody? Where do you get to?”

“I do. It’s not quite as immediate. There isn’t quite the same continuity of identity and group.”

“Does somebody meet you?”

“Yeah, someone does. More of a representative of a larger group. In the first one it was a collective, like of all the ancestors. It was a big open warm feeling of community and family and identity and nothing changed with the identity. With this one it’s more – maybe a little more – like the one character representing a larger collective. More abstract.”

“What does this character look like, or how does it present itself to you?”

Oh, maybe more like St. Peter a bit, rather than an individual I would recognize; more of the Judeo-Christian this-is-what-happens-to-you-in-the-afterlife.

“And as you look back on that life, what were the lessons of that life?”

“It was very nice to be able to provide for the family. I felt very fortunate that my life went that way. Cause so many people had so much less. I was aware of other people who had way more, in that there was definitely disparity in what people had. I felt so fortunate to be able to have a family that could share that comfort, too…. Material comfort in terms of security. Because there was a lot of insecurity in the world.”

“And what was your soul’s purpose in living that life?”

“I would say family had a lot to do with it. And security. I got a lot of satisfaction from being able to create that security. Hmm. I don’t know what I did for a living…. Paperwork was involved. I was in an office of some sort. Papers, and books, and…. There were skills involved. Not outdoorsy stuff. I was definitely – a homebody, and more indoorsy, especially in inclement weather.” She chuckled. “Providing for, creating a safe environment.”

Then I addressed the client’s Higher Self, and asked, “I know you could have shown her many past lives. Why did you choose those lives to show her?”

“Extremes. [In the first life,] the natural way of flow and grounding, continuity, and the safety of whatever happens, how it all flows together. And with the second one, the other extreme, where there’s the safety one creates, and the potential danger of what one is not comfortable dealing with. One is a backdrop to the other, in a sense.

The native is a part of the forest as a hunter. Went out into the woods, and brought back a deer. The deer was a part of the woods. The hunter was a part of the woods. The deer left its body willingly, to provide sustenance for the hunter and his family. He was part of the river. His body became part of the debris in that flow. He was equally part of his family after his family had fled, because that was part of the flow of which he was a part.

The poor fellow living in the city felt so disconnected. He was confident and competent in certain areas of his life, and where his heart was, was with his immediate family. That’s what he protected the most by becoming very confident and competent in his skill set, which he exercised indoors, away from the elements, but there were huge areas of his life that he didn’t feel comfortable in, and that’s why the indoors was so precious to him. Having those comforts was so precious to him, but it was what he wasn’t comfortable looking at which was the big danger for him.”

“He wasn’t comfortable looking at the civil unrest in that country?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“And does that include the disparity between rich and poor? Inequalities in society? Or politics?”

“He was well aware of the discrepancies. I don’t think he knew of any way to help anyone but his own immediate family, and he took great pride and comfort that he could do that. And that’s probably as much as anyone could have expected.”

“So how do these lives relate to Anne’s life now?”

“As someone who grounds others and holds energy, the way the native does, as a reminder to just hold that energy, but also as a reminder to look at those aspects of life that have been difficult, that she put the blinders onto, over the years and through childhood. And how in the turning point of life, it’s the things you weren’t looking at before that are the most important now.”

We continued the session with the questions Anne had brought about her career. The Higher Self observed that “there is a part of her that just wants to cozy up on the sofa and veg, and the comforts of the indoors.” However, she needs more nature in her life to keep her grounded.

Meanwhile, changes in her family life are resulting in a need to step up and become the breadwinner. These two past lives showed her that she has done it before and can bring those experiences to bear on her present situation.

Read the client’s reflections on the two lives.