Reincarnation What Was I In A Past Life

How I Actually Figured Out Reincarnation What Was I In A Past Life

I've been running past-life inquiry sessions for about eleven years now. The work itself is unglamorous. You sit with people who come in specific recurring fears or body memories, and you help them track where those patterns might be rooted. The process works like this. Most people I work with have already tried meditation or hypnosis on their own and got nowhere. That's usually because they're approaching it as entertainment rather than investigation. The first thing I do is get them into a light alpha state using standard breathwork — four counts in, six out, held for two. You watch the eyelids go fluttery, the breathing drops below twelve per minute, and then you ask a single open question. Not "who were you?" That's too broad. Better to ask "what room are you standing in right now?" or "what year does the light suggest?" I use a clipboard and a stopwatch, not because I don't trust the process, but because I need data. My first few years were messy. I'd let people ramble for twenty minutes and end up with nothing concrete. Now I usually get a usable timeframe, a location, and a physical sensation within seven to twelve minutes if the person is actually capable of this kind of recall.

Common Pitfalls That Waste Time

The biggest problem is confirmation bias, and it sneaks in through the facilitator more often than the subject. If you hint that someone was an Egyptian bricklayer, they'll happily play along for forty-five minutes. I learned this the hard way when a subject described being a medieval woman in such vivid detail — she even named a specific wool market in York — and three months later I found the story was a plot point from a BBC drama she'd watched the week before. She genuinely believed it. That's the tricky part. The workaround I use now is a simple cross-reference test. Anything they report gets checked against at least one historical detail — a garment style, a currency name, a trade route, a foodstuff. If they mention "barley pottage" and "denarii," you can verify that pairing. If they say "silk roads" but describe a culture that predates the Silk Road by four centuries, that's a red flag. The brain does its own editing, and most of the time it edits to make the story feel coherent rather than accurate. Another thing nobody tells beginners: some people never go anywhere. About thirty percent of subjects I've worked with sit there for twenty minutes, produce nothing but anxiety, and then report feeling worse afterward. For those people, stop. Don't push it. There are people whose nervous systems just can't handle the kind of dissociation this requires, and pushing through it causes flashbacks that last days.

The Actual Method Most People Miss

Here's what's counter-intuitive. The most reliable past-life material doesn't come during deep trance. It comes during the hypnagogic state — that weird liminal window between waking and sleeping where your brain is generating loose associations. Deep trance actually narrows your cognitive field too much. The person becomes suggestible, prone to confabulation, and less able to distinguish between memory, imagination, and external input. I use a modified self-hypnosis protocol where the person stays semi-aware the whole time. They're lying down, eyes closed, counting backward from one hundred by threes, and I ask questions between each group. The math keeps the conscious mind occupied so it doesn't interfere, but not so much that the person zones out completely. This approach typically yields about twice the amount of coherent, verifiable detail compared to deep trance induction, and the recall holds up better under questioning. The technique I find most useful is called the "body map." Before any regression work, I have the person sit quietly and note every physical sensation or tension point — a tight shoulder, a chronic knee ache, a stomach knot. These become anchors. Later, when they report a past-life scene, if they simultaneously feel the corresponding sensation in the present body, that's usually a stronger signal that something genuine is coming through than the narrative alone would be.

What This Can and Cannot Do

Past-life inquiry is not diagnostic. It will not identify trauma, it will not resolve PTSD, and it will not tell you definitively whether reincarnation is real. What it does is give people a structured framework for exploring patterns in their fear responses, irrational aversions, and unexplained sympathies. Sometimes those patterns resolve in a single session. Sometimes they don't. Most of the time, they shift slightly, and the person gains a different vocabulary for describing something that previously felt formless. The method breaks down completely when the subject has a history of psychosis or severe dissociative disorder. I've seen people spiral after a session where they became convinced they were simultaneously multiple people across time, and that confusion didn't lift for weeks. If someone has that kind of history, you don't offer past-life work as a treatment option. You refer them elsewhere and keep your notes minimal. My general rule of thumb: if someone walks in looking for a specific answer — "was I my husband's mother?" or "did I die violently? Tell me." — that's usually a sign they're not ready for this. The work only helps when the person comes in genuinely curious and willing to follow whatever surface comes up, even if it's boring or unemotional. The dramatic revelations people expect from pop culture don't happen reliably. More often, you get a vague impression of a room with yellow walls and a smell of damp wood, and figuring out what that means takes several sessions of reflection afterward.