Sometimes I get a feeling that I am living an imaginary life. That I am not real. All of this is psychedelia.
Recently when I underwent a past life regression, it returned me to a spiral of stories connected to the people currently in my life. It gave me explanations for my behaviour and theirs which we were playing out from an unconscious remembering of our past lives together. Months ago I had watched the film Cloud Atlas and was moved by the beauty of bringing the intricacies of interconnected lives across timelines onscreen by the director. I wondered honestly if he had undergone past life regression sessions, not one but several, because he had so meticulously pieced the puzzle of sharing multiple lifetimes together. Just like we see it when we ourselves undergo a regression session.
Ever since this recent session a lot of my pieces fell into place. Yet again.
I came to terms with the overwhelm of just being alive. Since as far as I can remember, I was scared of life – it’s almost as if I knew with deathlike certainty that something bad is going to happen. After a dramatic birth, life too was a series of events year after year after year. Every now and then, inspite of all my spiritual discipline, I fall into this groove of thinking, what am I doing in this life! It sometimes seems like I am handed with this life and in the process of incarnating, I lost the manual somewhere in the time warp. It is not like I don’t know my life’s purpose – which, as deceptively simple as it may sound, is simply to enjoy and create. This is an even subtler and deeper mystery – what am I to do with this life that I have been given? I wonder. It feels like a privilege and a power for which I intensely feel responsible. So much so that after seeing the depths of this life, I recede into a numbness. It is surprising how little one thinks of death on a day to day basis compared to how much one feels it in the body through its reactions vis a vis how much one thinks life is out to get you.
And yet all of this exists in the realm of thought alone and hence is imaginary.
In my recent regression, my therapist used a very different technique on me called bodywork. As she commanded my body to re-live a memory and release it, a part of me paralysed. I started recollecting memories of a lifetime I had never expected to. And yet as I was undergoing the process, a deeper part of me was questioning, what if this body is imaginary too? What if all these cells are just imagined? I take a deep breath now even as I feel this question.
I thrive on Breathwork retreats for my existence. The long lease of life I feel after having undergone just 5 days of a Breathwork intensive are incomparable. I feel like someone kindly found my manual and returned it back to me that I had lost somewhere in the time tunnel. I feel alive and grateful. And somewhere a deep restfulness returns – it is as if I am somewhere in between lives – beyond the grasp of death and above the survival fears of life. And that is usually when I “catch up”.
Maybe some of you reading this are the ones whose sessions I have been repeatedly cancelling or indefinitely postponing after the Breathwork workshops that culminated over a week ago. This is what I have been doing – dealing with the overwhelm of finally getting a break in life from the mere stress of being alive. I shall move into the first gear soon, but not right now. I ask you to be patient with me. Just as the stars are. Mercury is in retrogade in my sun sign Scorpio and a Solar Eclipse headed our way conjuncting Saturn again in the sign of Scorpio. My cellphone broke a couple of weeks ago and after it got repaired last week, it has almost completely broken down. I am lucky. I have been given time. And I feel like after a long illness, I have finally recovered but I am still put on a respirator to go easy on myself. I’m convalescing. And it is such a big relief.
And yet this is all story. Completeness is what I feel more strongly than ever. It takes courage to bring up as many memories as your soul wants to, like rabbits being pulled out of a magician’s hat. And yes, like magic, the memories don’t end, the magic show is ever-so-entertaining except when the magician pulls out the finale for the evening – Love. This time, my finale revolved around receiving love, how I had accepted someone’s curse on me to not receive love, taken it as a contract and had created one lifetime after another of experiencing a “tin heart” which could receive no love. Through recent months, this numbness gnawed at me. Through the session, the pieces fell like snowflakes on a Christmas night, each at its perfect place. I was just witnessing. A story gathered itself and my mind restored the leftover identities. I saw in a fresh new light that communion with my own, grand, wise, old Soul is all I seek. When I am listening to it and it is one with me, I walk the earth without caution. A deathlessness occurs. Emotions are lived without labels and desires are lived through without clinging. But none of that feels important. It is the oneness with my Soul which feels real. Even if I can touch it, taste it, hear it or see it, everything else is just imagination. And yet knowing that this feeling of being real too shall pass, I am baffled. It seems I have lost the game and my fragile ego won’t yet admit it.
Nevertheless I am starting to open up and see beyond the miracle of being alive. In my teens I used to keep a tiny pocket notebook where I would write down my own quotations as I made my way through my schoolwork. One of my favorites was – “What matters is that you remember that after the dream has come true you still have to live”.
I now realise the deeper nuances of this guidance. There is a life beyond dreams, achievements and desires, and I am just beginning to see it. And that is taking me through this fear of my dreams coming true because I won’t have to die for them to be realised. Death after all is more of an imagination, for I have felt, in my gut, that even after we die, we can have thoughts – of regret, remorse, guilt. Death is no longer an escape. So I’d like to set my thoughts right and “clean up” without hoping that an act called death is going to do it for me. And while all my feelings are also just part of one big imagination, I still want to clear this veil as much as I possibly can. Maybe then the gulf between reality and imagination won’t be so wide. Maybe by then I would have stopped getting affected by this gulf I keep seeing. Maybe then, this gulf itself would have become imaginary.