Have you ever felt like you’ve known someone before—in another life you lived before you were born as the person you are now? Ann, the protagonist in my novel Echoes of the Moon, has that experience—and I have, too. In fact, the people I felt that way about turned out to be some of the most important ones in my life.
The first one that comes to mind is a childhood friend I met when I was 9 or 10. She seemed so familiar right from the start—I just felt like I already knew her. And she understood me so implicitly; we could laugh together, cry together, share secrets and behave outrageously together. Even before I was old enough to consider a belief in reincarnation, I knew we had known each other before. Our friendship ended up lasting for over 20 years. And just recently we’ve found each other again!
Even more uncanny was the experience I had with a man I fell in love with in my mid-20’s. Powerfully drawn to each other from the start, we spent an enormous amount of time together; we always had so much to talk about. And there really was genuine love between us. But he wasn’t able to give me the romantic relationship I wanted. One night, as I was lamenting once again over this man I couldn’t have, an unexpected, intense flash of knowing came to me. I realized that we had loved each other long before we had ever met in this life; I could sense the numerous lives we had been through together. Our purpose, I knew, had been to explore all the different configurations of love—husband and wife, brother and sister, parent and child, friend and friend. And I realized that, in this life, we were simply experiencing another configuration. This didn’t provide an instant solution for my pain, by any means. But I think it really did help me move on. A few years later, I met a man who possessed some of the same qualities I had loved in this one—plus more. And I ended up marrying him.
I guess it isn’t surprising that my most intense reincarnational experience happened with my husband-to-be. The story of how we met, far from our homes in different parts of the US , is amazing enough. And then there’s the flash of intuition that impelled him to approach me on the night we met. (More on all that in a future entry.) Suffice it to say, our relationship was powerful from the start; just a few hours after we met, the nearness of him already seemed so familiar. Our minds just seemed to spark and dance together when we talked. And by the second night, I knew I was falling in love with him.
A few months later, as we were chatting on the phone, I admitted I had the feeling that I’d known him before. He said that he’d had the same feeling about me. And then I had a sudden flash of another life where we had been together. I actually saw what I had looked like! I knew that I had been his protector and helpmate that time, and that one of his reasons for coming into my present life was to return the favor. I knew, too, that we had acted out this pattern through a series of lives, taking turns taking care of each other. As I began to tell him all that, he floored me by filling in pieces of the story before I could say them, even describing the physical appearance I had seen in my mind! Incredible! I’d already had an idea that our relationship would be extraordinary, but that conversation convinced me even more. Now, twenty-five years later, we’re still together, and we’re still the kind of couple that people notice because we seem unusually close. Funny how that turned out …
Do I really believe that I knew these people in other lives? Yes, I think I did. I suspect that all of us live many lives in this vast, richly creative Universe of ours—and that, if we open our minds, we can discern pieces of our own amazing histories. We would probably discover that we’re all much more deeply connected than we thought.
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