As of today, I am a mom of five children. Prior to that, I was a young bubbling blonde girl growing up on top of a hill in southern Ohio. To understand more about me, I guess we have to travel further back to where I was born, a town in Texas along the Gulf of Mexico.
We could go even further back, to my past life.
I will pause for some giggles.
“If you’re really a mean person you’re going to come back as a fly and eat poop.” – Kurt Cobain
With all giggles aside, let me share my story.
When I was fifteen, I had the most realistic dream. I can still remember this dream in full detail 18 years later. The air dusty as I sat criss-cross in front of a hut made of mud, sticks, and hay. There was a hole covered by wooly fabric. I wasn’t I, but a man, an old small man with old wrinkly skin surrounded by a village with other huts. The villagers were of Asian decent shuffling around. I can’t see my face but I can see a long skinny beard hanging down my skinny chest. The last thing I remember is a bike riding by me. Seeing the metal spokes spin away.
I awake in my childhood bed atop the hill. In a daze, I walk into the kitchen. My mom is washing dishes. The kitchen bright from the Ohio sun. I lean against the edge of the counter using my elbow to hold me up.
“Mom I had the weirdest dream”.
I described my dream, she looks at me with an uncomfortable smile. My mother proceeds to tell me about how as a very young child in Texas I would routinely discuss with her this village and the people who lived there.
My mom shares around the age three or four I came to her and said: “I was an old Chinese man”. In the weeks after that, I told my parents about my past life. I proceed to tell my family about a village of farmers at the top of a hill. The river that leads to a village. I gave great details about the villagers and myself. An elder who had long hair kept in a braid. I described the clothing as a cream dress with and fabric around my waist. Apparently, I was part of the village council with some power to make decisions. My parents were sure I was describing the past as there was never any references to cars, technology, or modern conveniences.
My mom recalls “The recollection of this village was as if you were looking through the eyes of a chinese man.”
Dr. Stevenson says ” ….there are cases in North America. Parents sometimes write me and say, ”My child is now 12 years old. I wish I knew about you when he was 2 or 3. He said he was an airline pilot, and we told him to stop telling lies and now he doesn’t remember anything.” That’s a fairly common opening. We found that 40 percent of people even in India suppress their children. It’s not that they disbelieve them. It’s that they have various ideas, one that it’s harmful to remember a previous life. Sometimes, they object to the content of what the child is saying.”
This is certainly the experience of my family. After a few weeks, my parents had a long discussion about what to do with my stories. My father was convinced that I had a past life; however, my mom was more worried about her daughter and sharing these elaborate stories. Concerned of being ridiculed or singled out. She talked my father into ignoring my stories and changing the subject. Soon I stopped talking about my past life. Eventually, forgot about it all together.
My experience is not an individual experience. In the book ”Old Souls: The Scientific Evidence For Past Lives,” written by Tom Shroder in 1999. He explores all of Dr. Stevenson investigation into reincarnation. Almost a decade later we still are researching past lives. In a piece from the Today Show in March 2015, Jake Whitman and Cynthia McFadden speak about the work done by Dr. Jim Tucker, M.D., the Bonner-Lowry Associate Professor of Psychiatry and Neurobehavioral Sciences at the University of Virginia. His work is an extension of Dr. Stevenson. Dr. Tucker’s office contains the files of more than 2,500 children.
Did you stop giggling and start thinking?