Past lives where we knew each other

Healing & Meditation

Madhuri shares a meditation technique.

Elegant Soirée by Victor Gabriel Gilbert
Elegant Soirée by Victor Gabriel Gilbert

I do this work lying down on my back on the carpeted floor, a Tachyon blindfold on. After a quickly restful period slipping deeper inside of myself, falling down towards the good-feeling belly, I begin to ask the question “Can you show me past lives with Ken?” The sense of asking is intense, – I almost wonder if I’m importuning the Forces – and too the waiting for something to come.

Then I just sort of open up the gates and let whatever happens, happen….

I am a young woman in a ball gown, being waltzed around a big dance floor in a large mansion in England. Now I am out on the terrace with the young man…. It is you; in a tall graceful body, and you are telling me that you are going off to the war in France. It is at the beginning of WWI – (and now I have a sense why in the life as Madhuri I have always hated any mention of that war, I avoid books set in that time).

The point of the vision is this: you are telling me you will come back. You are making promises.. and I, in my ignorance and hope, am receiving them. I am inexperienced, naïve; I do not know anything about men and women, I don’t know how difficult it is to find a person with whom one fits well… and it is not necessarily that we would have made a good marriage; or any marriage – nor did you exactly propose – but rashly you made promises to come back… you could not imagine dying, or if you did you pushed it aside.

You did not come back, and the pain of this thing: having made a promise you could not fulfill – stayed with disproportionate power in our consciousnesses. We both had been trained that a man keeps his word. So even a small or seemingly insignificant promise would do some damage….

You went to war for an altogether wrong reason: because everyone else was, and in your class it was expected; and you were more afraid of ostracism than of death, but this in an unexamined way. You gave up your deeper truth and threw yourself away on the battlefield; with the feeling that you had no choice. But you had a choice… Just one with a great social price. You did not want to go to war. And you did not come home.

Our connection in this life has this question, this realization, woven into it: and all of that was a situation to expose the real quandary – is a man able to forfeit the esteem of his fellows for his own truth? And, almost even more important, how does he find what that truth is? In this life you have grappled with this and have painfully finally come to much self-love and wisdom about it. I am a catalyst – as I was for the first mistaken promise. I am a catalyst because in fact I am not a lover, an adversary – but a boon companion – in freedom – and we were too young to understand that then.

Promises are dangerous things, and we should not make them. They have inordinate power and can persuade a person to go against life. You have made up to me for that promise – and through it both of us have grown – but this happened by negating the principle of promise itself. As was only right and proper.


Now I ask for a life further back….

Always with a permissive feeling, that I do not know anything, that I am only inviting what comes by itself, and trusting it wholesale… Now you and I are children, and we are in a shallow rowboat on a muddy brown river, a wide deep fast-moving river, somewhere in the American South. It is perhaps the 1840’s or so, or maybe somewhat later. There are no grownups with us, and this is scary – I cannot see how we came to be here. We do not even have oars. We are just small, less than five years old.

Now we are on the shore, I don’t see how we got there, but somehow our parents knew where we were and managed to come down to the river and find us and rescue us. They are hugging and hugging us, so relieved. Our parents are married to each other, but we are each from a previous marriage, so we are brother and sister and yet not related. People died young in those days often. We are companions.


And further…. We are in the Middle East, and you are giving me a whole skinned goat to cook. I am asking inside, Why does he need to give this to me? And I am shown: your giving me the goat gives two things to you: it expresses your respect for the Feminine -–the ground of being for the universe – which is in you also. By expressing respect for the woman – and it is very respectfully you give this goat – you are praising yourself in your most true and humble-before-the-Mystery aspect. Also, by giving the goat this happens: I see feathers sprouting all up and down your spine – you grow your male feathers.


We are Mongolian warriors, long ago, side by side in battle – boon companions; we wield spears, there is a forest of them –


I ask, “What do we have to do with each other’s soul journey?” And I am shown two freedoms, pouring back and forth like water from one hand to another and back again. The mirror of love – and love is the heart in freedom.


Anything for him about meditation, a subject in which he is interested? I ask.

Discipline is not for him, I am told. I see a pic of you sitting on a Tibetan mountain in a blue robe – you are enjoying the musical feeling of the place; but you are not designed to immerse yourself in a life of spiritual discipline.

But – you are not to ignore the search in yourself – those moments when the wandering search feeling comes.. then if you can sit silently (or play music) and feel as if depth is seeking itself like a shovel going down in, in… don’t look for something specially, but allow the shovel!

As I am being shown, this is taking place within myself… I feel the diggingness as the energy of search goes deep… without object or hope or knowing what it seeks – just the intense diggingness, as if it’s the most important thing there is – which it arguably is – .


Anything else? I ask.

I am shown this: allow expanded states.


And I get the feeling to send this tape about Desire, for the point it makes… Forgive me if I presume; but the point is apropos –.

Sept ’07 – excerpted from Dancing Leaves


Madhuri is a healer, artist, poet and author of several books, Mistakes on the Path being her latest memoir.

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