Past Life Regression

 Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.

- Carl Jung

 

As a hypnotherapist, one of my favorite sessions is doing past life regressions. Whether one believes in past lives or not, these sessions are always profound, insightful, and deeply healing. In my practice over the last fifteen years, I have done four dozen or so past life regressions. These have been for folks to understand current life patterns, such as overspending or overeating; to find forgiveness for their childhood abuser; or to release feelings of karmic debt from failed relationships. Personally, I have worked with other practitioners and have experienced three past lives (plus a womb regression). Here is the most recent one.

 

Intention: What would be beneficial for me now in my healing practice? Affirmation: I will say yes to giving my gift this lifetime.

  My colleague had me get comfortable on the massage table. We started with some deep breathing and a basic relaxation technique. Then she counted down from ten to one, with the instruction to discover in my mind's eye a safe, comfortable place to begin today's journey. I go into trance extremely easily and always find it quite pleasant. I felt very curious, full of wonder about what I might discover today.

I found myself imagining being in my backyard on a warm spring afternoon. The sun was shining, I could smell the jasmine, and both the cats were keeping me good company. I noticed the sounds of hummingbird wings, the neighbors off in the distance, and I felt very safe and secure. I moved a statue of Kuan Yin over to the power corner of the garden and took a moment to pay tribute to the goddess of healing and compassion. Kuan Yin is often depicted with her head tilted to one side, in order to hear the cries of suffering from humankind. I took a moment to reflect on all the deep listening I do. I prayed that they always felt my office to be a sanctuary to release their woes and to find peace.

Now the guide led me through a second countdown, and I felt as if I was traveling through time. It was like flipping through fifty years of National Geographics. I saw far-off places, an array of faces, all flashing before my eyes in quick succession. 

At zero, she had me simply look at my feet. Nex,t my clothes, then the surroundings, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smell. All the colors and textures, even the tastes. I knew the time of day, the season, even the year in incredible detail. I was in China, about the year 500 a.d, and it was not just late summer, but also that somehow I was running late.

I looked down at my tiny feet, conscious that I was wearing white pants and a blue shirt. At first, I felt genderless, then I was aware that I was a 13-year-old girl. My feet were hurting, as were my shoulders. I noticed the way the smooth wooden yoke fit across my neck, the way my hands balanced the buckets, which were filled not with water but an assortment of herbs and mushrooms. Walking back to the compound, mindful of the dust and the smell of my own sweat, I stopped at a small hut to gather up supplies.

Next, I moved through the compound. I went from room to room doing my honorable task for each of my aunties - taking off the tight bindings and bathing their feet with fresh spring water and herbs. The smell is incredible, the twisted toes forced into tiny shoes. Again and again, the admonishment to keep the secret. I am neither royal nor a peasant, so my feet are not as tightly bound. My role is to perpetuate this tradition. I struggle to find the sacred in the mundane. I cleanse and purify, applying herbs as salves and poultices, massaging calves to encourage blood flow before reapplying the restrictive bindings.

The practitioner had me fast-forward. Now I am married, and somehow I recognize my husband as my brother in modern life. Bunches of herbs dry in the rafters, and hang in pouches along the wall. I am well versed in herbs for infertility as well as for inducing menses, the only contraceptive of the time. I myself am infertile, and I feel cursed, yet blessed, that my husband remains by my side.

I see myself stirring up salves, unguents, and lotions. I continue to tend to the ladies and see babies being born between my hands. Sometimes they are stillborn, and I take their tiny bodies down to a special burial place at Kuan Yin's temple. These are my spirit children. I know my task is to guide their spirits in the most sacred of ways. And always, keep it secret, secret, secret.

Now the guide gently guides me to the moment of my death. I am forty years old, surrounded by nieces and nephews, always a favorite auntie. I pass quite peacefully, my devotees by my side, surrounded by clay jars sealed with beeswax with wild flowers pressed into them.

The practitioner counted me back to my safe space. Back in the garden, I realize this is where my former cats are buried in the yard. I have intense memories of reading Chinese Folktales as a kid, which I was fascinated by, and Mary Daly in college, her descriptions of Chinese foot binding. More images flash before my eyes, including washing both Jesus and Mary's feet with my hair during Reiki I and II. Then I see my paternal grandmother, Nona Thersa, her gnarled feet and discolored toenails. I briefly experienced the double foot surgery I went through when I was in sixth grade, my feet being deformed by too-tight ice-skates. My Mom had the same surgery at the same time, her feet messed up by wearing shoes much too small due to the poverty she lived in as a child in postwar Sweden. I flash on my brother and the fact that neither of us has biological children. Here was the “aha” moment of seeing (ancestral) patterns.

The practitioner counted me up to this dimension. We spent some time processing the session, then said our goodbyes. The session was so rich and qualitatively different from other hypnosis sessions, the amount of detail and deep knowing feeling is like nothing else I have ever experienced. I hope this sparks your own sense of curiosity and wonder.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder

 

As I write this, it is February, and I face my longest month of the year due to SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder. Hey, I'd rather be depressed for 28 days of the year than 365 like when I was a teenager. Usually doesn't hit hard until mid-month, so I'm setting up my ducks. I think about the Moomins who would fill their bellies with pine needles and hibernate through the long Nordic winter. I fill mine with St. John's Wort and organic Pop-Tarts, steamed spinach, and smoked salmon. I hunker down by the woodstove, feeling extremely grateful for the companionship of my sweetie and all the cats, each of us curled into our personal ball of introspection. I notice that my current clients all reflect the need for withdrawal. The Eight of Cups in the tarot indicates the need to retreat, renew, and rejuvenate.

I know California needs rain, but each sunny day feels like a reprieve, and I sit in the pale winter light trying to recharge my photoelectric batteries stored behind my third eye, the oh so important pineal gland. I notice I am sleeping a lot more and have just given up completely trying to go out in the evenings. I count the days and mark off the calendar like a prisoner trying to reach parole. Five days down, twenty-three to go…

I was first diagnosed with depression when I was fifteen years old, a label I have struggled with ever since. In the last couple of decades, I have boiled it down from year-round symptoms to February. The first of March has come to signify the beginning of Spring, not just on the earth but truly the rebirth of my psyche. Rather than resisting the dark of winter, I have created a way to move through. Much like knowing it is inevitable that I will get a cold or the flu each winter, I strive to bolster my immune system - physical and emotional. I accept this time much like accepting being premenstrual; however, there are ways to alleviate the symptoms and create better mental health.

According to the NIMH, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) affects up to 9.7% of Americans. Also known as the Winter Blues, I have managed this personally by a combination of the following:

St. John's Wort - While it does not make me euphoric by any means, it gives me an even keel. It is most effective when taken at least one month before my regular symptoms appear in February.

Sleep - Hibernation is my friend. I sleep anywhere from nine to twelve hours, plus take naps during the wintertime. Way better than checking out on drugs, alcohol, or any other escape mechanism. Plus, I look so young with all that beauty rest.

Sunshine - There is a reason why I live in California. However, I remember when I was a kid living in rainy, cold Luxembourg, my parents bought a tanning lamp to give all of us a seasonal boost.

Vitamin D - Of course is naturally produced by being in the sun, but with global warming and polar vortex conditions, consider supplementing your regimen. Vitamin C is also our friend, boosting immunity.

Aromatherapy - Orange, bergamot, and lemon all uplift the spirits. Combine with a carrier oil and use as either a room spray or body spray. Check for allergies first.

Stop drinking alcohol - Quite simply, it is a depressant. Again, like taking herbs, it’s most effective if I stop drinking one to three months before I usually experience my winter blues.

Wear bright colors - I find myself reaching into the closet for the grey and black clothing, reflecting my inner landscape. Deliberately choosing to wear purples, reds, yellows, and other bright colors helps me "fake it until I make it."

Orgasm - I went to a workshop on tantra, and what I remember the most is to engage in self-pleasure, even if you do not feel like it at first. The hormones and neurotransmitters released are the same for happiness and feeling in love. Apparently, sex is better than valium.

Reiki/Massage - Intrinsic touch is crucial to human happiness, especially if you choose not to engage in the last tip.

Smile/Laugh - another "fake it till you make it" technique, I schedule a lot of lunches with colleagues and make an effort to hang out with my friends more, as being isolated simply leads to that spiral of depression. Watch funny movies/tv shows/internet sites, avoid the news/radio/Facebook, be super selective.

Hypnosis/Meditate - Taking the time to set your intentions, experiencing deep relaxation, letting go of stress, and simply allowing yourself to be present are soothing, healing, and comforting. Check out my YouTube video "A Simple Self-Hypnosis Technique" for more information.

Exercise - another way to release those feel-good endorphins, a twenty-minute walk can do wonders for your mood. On rainy days, I do the "Just Dance" program on the Wii. Shake it up!

Get a Job - Studies show that people who retire early tend to lead shorter lives. Why? Because often our work gives our lives meaning. There's a reason it's called an occupation - it keeps us occupied. Be okay with a complete new career change, even if you have "retired." Or consider volunteering, taking classes, or getting involved in local politics. After a period of isolation, reconnect with your community as a mentor.

Note: This is not meant to be a substitute for any medical or therapeutic advice. Do what is best for you, and please, create a support system for yourself. You deserve a healthy, happy life and can manage your emotions without having them manage you.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

Priestess

Today’s early morning ritual

I am Raven

burner

of lavender


reader

of the cards

diviner

of the stars


eater

of cold pizza

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

Healer's Manifesto

 

The Healer’s Manifesto

Breathe

Hold the Space

Ask Deep, Precise Questions

Listen and Reflect

Keep the Silence

Have Clarity in Your Vision

Have Wisdom in Your Words

See the Success

Breathe

Smile

Repeat

Rag Burning Ritual

 

Thirteen moons had passed since my last period. I contemplated the red bundle in the middle of the woodstove in its nest of kindling. For over a year, it had sat on my altar, a red linen ceremonial cloth from a menstruation ceremony now tied over a plethora of bandannas, glad rags, scraps of paper scribbled with names, dried lavender, and rosemary from the garden. 

It took time for the bundle to catch fire, and much longer for it to burn completely to ash. I let these cool, then scooped them into my little iron cauldron. I walked down to the church located at the center of the circles on the West Side of Santa Cruz and began to walk a labyrinth through the streets and neighborhood. I would stop at trees and sprinkle a pinch of ash and a blessing, slowly, deliberately, intentionally. Spiralling out from that holy ground, blessing my neighbors, my home, the ocean, I felt more and more release until I was as empty as my cauldron.

Now two years have passed, and I contemplate doing this ritual again, with the sweat-soaked rags from the ripped-up cotton sheets that have become my new favorite mopping tool. Simply setting the intention to be able to say, “This too has passed.”

What’s in your bundle? How will you release it? Remember to be mindful, be intentional, and be joyous.

Blessed be.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone}

Just I.C.E or Justice for Renee Nicole Good

 

In honor of Renee Nicole Good

Remember to Remember

 

In memory’s golden basket, drop a pearl for me. - Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie

You can boost your memory by "remembering" instead of forgetting. Every time we say, "Oh no, I forgot my keys!" We are actually affirming forgetting rather than what actually happened - you remembered (present tense) that you forgot something (past tense). Affirm the present moment, the remembering, and retrain your brain to say, “Wow, I just remembered my keys.”

Notice your memories replacing your eggs in your sacred womb space. There's a reason all these memories are coming up now. Mainly, because you can handle them. Emotionally, spiritually, you have the experience and maturity to review the past, and much like the oyster that coats the irritating grain of sand with the iridescence of the mother, it creates the pearls of wisdom. 

While going through the pause, I often found myself doing just that - pausing. Spacing out, blanking on names and words, forgetting what we were doing - a few more challenges to be sure. Fire up your brain. Practice mental exercises: crossword puzzles, Sudoku, logic games, and memory games. Use your fingers to keep lists for short-term memory. Use your phone for longer or long-term lists. Practice Beginner's Mind, connecting with a sense of wonder and innocence rather than confusion or doubt.

As we walked down to the beach, my daughter said, “Ok, Mom, I’m going to want you to remember something.”  I said, “Ok, honey, I’ll try to inscribe it into my little brain.” “Mom,” she said, a little exasperated, “It’s not your brain that’s little. It’s your bladder.”

Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone