by Judith Marshall
(Article originally published in The Llewellyn Journal.)
For many of us, travel is the spice of life. The comfort and security of home are important, but the unfamiliar stirs the soul. Travel in the physical world offers insight, freedom, and expansion. Travel within—the journey of the spirit—provides the same, especially when exploring past lives.
Think about it. Whether you travel without or within, you choose your destination, make the journey, and bring back souvenirs. You can choose to explore your past lives, make the journey by accessing your soul’s memory (through meditation, divination, or other life experience), and return to your present life with the best souvenirs of all: information and increased awareness.
Once you do, you’ll be forever changed. You’ll gain insight into your current emotions, your likes and dislikes, your hopes and fears, and your personal relationships. This new understanding will give you the freedom to heal past and present wounds, to forgive others and yourself. You’ll expand your horizons and experience yourself as limitless. You’ll know that your soul is bigger than you thought, and that you are more than you imagined.
Your angels, spirit guides, and guardians can act as travel agents who work behind the scenes or as outright tour guides to important sights and events. Intuition will be your constant companion. But, your tickets to past life discovery are openness and trust.
My children, ten-year-old twin boys, remind me of these essential qualities every day. Like most children, they’re open as all get-out, and they allow their psychic senses free rein. About a year ago, our family moved from Florida to Massachusetts; phenomenal synchronicity led us to rent a townhouse that was built in 1800. From the moment we stepped foot in the place, my son Geoffrey said he felt he’d lived there before. My husband and I thought he meant the town, but Geoffrey was adamant.
“No,” he said, “this house.”
From time to time, he repeated this claim. Then, in May of this year, he woke in the middle of the night to see the ghost of an older woman beside his bed. From his description of her hair and dress, she was from the late 1800s or early 1900s. She looked as solid as you and I, and she was crouched over, reaching toward what is now the boys’ bedroom closet. Geoffrey guessed that she was reaching toward a stove or fireplace, and when she stood and looked into his eyes, he felt she’d been his mother in a previous life. When he called for us, she disappeared. Her initial appearance had startled him, but after that, he felt no fear. He trusted his impressions and knew she wouldn’t hurt him.
More recently, my husband Dan and I took the boys to a neighboring town and ended up at the Old Burial Hill. We wandered aimlessly until our son Connor made a beeline for a small memorial stone. He stared at it for a long moment. Then, he scampered to a patch wildflowers, picked a bunch, and placed them carefully at the base of the stone. With hands folded, he knelt in the grass, closed his eyes, and murmured what I could only assume was a prayer.
When we asked what he was doing, his answer was immediate: “I think I was this person in another life.”
From the inscription, we learned the stone had been placed there in memory of someone executed during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692.
“I was her,” Connor reiterated.
The accused’s given name was one usually reserved for males; in fact, it was derived from the name “William.” So, Dan and I told the boys he was probably a man.
“No,” Geoffrey said, placing his own offering—a particularly attractive leaf—before the stone. “Connor’s right. It was a woman.”
For the record, many men were accused during the Salem Witch Trials. Both boys knew that, so they made no assumptions about the word “witch.” In addition, they’re still preteens and believe their parents actually know something, so their insistence about her gender was significant.
During our remaining time in the graveyard, Connor returned to that memorial stone twice more. “I just don’t want to leave it,” he explained. “I feel like I’m supposed to be here.”
In the end, he was the reason we left. “I sense something dark now,” he said, hastening toward the exit. “We have to go.”
At home, I looked up the name from the stone and learned that the accused was indeed a woman. Whether or not she was connected to Connor, he and his twin trusted their gut instincts, regardless of my opinion or that of my husband.
We haven’t researched either of the boys’ claims further. One day, if they decide to follow up, we’ll be happy to help them. In the meantime, I stand in awe of their open minds and trusting hearts.
Do you want to learn more about your past lives? Approach your investigations as a child would. Yes, you’ll check the facts and analyze up and down. But open yourself to receive whatever comes. Trust your intuition and impressions. And trust that you’ll learn exactly what you need, exactly when you need it.
If you’d like a travel guide for your inward journey, check out my book, Past Lives, Present Stories: Healing and Wisdom through Past Life Exploration. You’ll learn more about the interplay of past and present lives, as well as specific exercises to help you along the way.
Article originally published in The Llewellyn Journal. Copyright Llewellyn Worldwide, 2014. All rights reserved.