03/25/2026
I did a past life regression today with Brian Weiss—an old recording I’ve come to think of as *Old Faithful*. It’s deeply meditative, but also a journey through memory, sensation, and something beyond both.
The first part brings you back to childhood.
What came up for me was a teeter-totter. I don’t consciously remember this moment, but I saw myself clearly—hair in pigtails, dressed with care, moving up and down with another child. There was something so innocent in it. The rhythm. The unconscious joy of being in a body.
Then the meditation moved further back—into the womb.
Here, the feeling shifted. Heaviness. Shame. A kind of quiet emotional weight that settled into my lower back—the same place I’ve been noticing tension in my waking life. It felt inherited. Not mine, but absorbed. Something I had been holding without language.
Then came a past life.
I was in clay—rolling in it, covered in it. Almost animal-like, but still human. It felt cleansing. Sensual in a natural, unselfconscious way. I was part of a community, dancing to drums under a full moon. I was young, alive, moving with the rhythms of my body.
A man noticed me. We came together—not from pressure or confusion, but from instinct. There was no shame. No repression. Just a natural push and pull. A rhythm.
Life unfolded that way—guided by the body, not controlled by fear.
And then death came.
Not abruptly. Gently.
My flame burned slower. Softer. Lower.
And I returned to the earth the same way I had lived—naturally. Like clay returning to clay.
In the final part of the meditation, a guide appeared.
And immediately—we were moving. Dancing. That same push and pull. That same rhythm. Like the teeter-totter from the beginning.
Up and down. Back and forth.
And it clicked.
Maybe the release isn’t in forcing anything.
Maybe it’s in returning.
To rhythm.
To movement.
To the natural rise and fall of being alive.
To let the body move again—without shame, without control.
Just the quiet knowing:
I don’t have to hold it all.
I can move with it.
