Al so by Dr Bri an Weiss

Ma n y Li ve s , Ma n y Ma s t e r s
I )r Br i an Wei ss had be e n wo r k i n g wi rl i Ca t h e r i n e , a y o u n g
pat i ent , f or e i ght e e n mo n t h s . Wh e n his t r adi t i onal me t h o d s of
t her apy t ai l ed, he t u r n e d t o hypnosi s. As a t r adi t i onal
ps ychot her api s t , Dr Weiss was sc ept i cal and as t oni s hed wh e n
Ca t h e r i n e began t o recal l past - l i f e t r aumas t hat s e e me d t o hol d
t he key t o he r r e c u r r i n g pr obl ems . l ) r Weiss' s scept i ci sm was
er oded, however , wh e n she began t o channel messages wh i c h
c ont a i ne d r emar kabl e r evel at i ons a bout his o wn f ami l y and
dead son. Ac t i ng as a channel for i nf or ma t i on f r o m hi ghl y
evol ved ' spi ri t ent i t i es' , t he Mast er s, Ca t h e r i n e r eveal ed ma nv of
t he secret s of l i fe and deat h. Ov e r 1, 000, 000 copi es of t hi s
f asci nat i ng b o o k have b e e n sol d a r ound t he wor l d.
T h r o u g h T i m e I n t o He a l i n g
in Through Time Into Healing Dr Br i an Weiss sheds n e w l i ght
oil t he e xt r a or di na r y heal i ng pot ent i al of past - l i f e t herapy.
Based on his ext ens i ve clinical e xpe r i e nc e , he reveals h o w he
uses r egr essi on t o past l i f et i mes t o pr ovi de t he necessar y
br e a kt hr ough t o heal i ng mi n d , b o d y and soul . Us i ng vi vi d past
life case st udi es, Dr Wei ss s hows h o w r egr essi on t her apy can
heal t he b o d y by heal i ng t he mi n d .
Me s s a g e s F r o m T h e Ma s t e r s
Messages From The Masters is a spi r i t ual g u i d e b o o k t hat s hows
you h o w t o c a pt ur e t he heal i ng ener gy of l ove. Dr Wei ss dr aws
on t he wi s d o m of t he spi ri t gui des k n o wn as t he Mas t er s t o
expl or e a var i et y of t opi cs i ncl udi ng: r e i nc a r na t i on and t he
nat ur e of t he soul : dest i ny and your t r ue p u r p o s e in lite; i nner
peace, heal t h, happi nes s and f ul f i l ment . In Messages Twin The
Masters vou wi l l f i nd o u t h o w t o t r a ns f or m y o u r lite, your
r el at i onshi ps and your s e l f - t hr ough t he ul t i mat e
powe r of love.
O N L Y
L O V E
R E A L
.Veil
1
book by Dr Brian i! i;-
Same Soul, Many Bodi es
in this as t oundi ng and gr oundbr e a ki ng ne w b o o k , l ) r Br i an Weiss
reveals h o w our f ut ur e lives can t r ansf or m us in t he pr esent . We have
all lived past lives. All ot us will live f ut ur e ones. Wh a t we do 111 this
life will i nf l uence our lives t o c o me as we evol ve t owar ds
i mmor t al i t y.
l ) r Bri an Weiss, t he best sei l i ng aut hor ot Many Lives, Many
Masters, has not onl y regressed all of his pat i ent s i nt o t he past, but
also progressed t he m i nt o t he f ut ur e. He has di scover ed t hat our
f ut ur es are vari abl e and t he choi ces we make n o w wi l l de t e r mi ne
t he qual i t y ot o u r life wh e n we r et ur n. Us i ng dozens of case
hi st or i es, l ) r Weiss de mons t r a t e s t he t he r a pe ut i c benef i t s of
progressi on t her apy t o br i ng pat i ent s mor e peace, j ov and heal i ng,
just as he has s hown t hat j our neys i nt o our past lives can cur e
physical or emot i onal wounds in t he pr esent .
O N L Y
L O V E
z s
R E J^Sl
The story of
soulmates reunited
DR BRI AN WE I S S
GO
GO
PIATKUS
I MATKUS
Hirst publ i s hed in (i re, i t Br i t ai n in 1996 bv 1' iatkus Hooks
First publ i s hed in t he Un i t e d St at es in 1996
bv Wa r n e r Books , Inc. , N e w Yor k
Co p y r i g h t t i 1990 by Br i an L. Weiss. M. I ) .
Re p r i n t e d 1998 ( t wi ce) . 1999 ( t wi ce) . 2000 ( t wi ce) . 2001, 2< 102,
2003, 2005 ( t wi ce) . 2006 ( t wi ce) , 2007, 200, s
The mor al r i ght of t he a ut hor has be e n asser t ed
All r i ght s r eser ved
N o part of this publ i cat i on ma y be r e pr oduc e d, s t or ed in a ret ri eval
svst em. or t r ans mi t t ed in any f o r m or bv any me a ns , wi t h o u t t he
pr i or per mi s s i on in wr i t i n g of t he publ i sher , n o r be ot he r wi s e
ci r cul at ed in anv f o r m of b i n d i n g or cover o t h e r t han t hat in wh i c h it
is publ i s hed and wi t h o u t a si mi l ar c ondi t i on i nc l udi ng t hi s c ondi t i on
be i ng i mpos e d on t he s ubs equent pur c ha s e r
A CII> cat al ogue r ecor d f or t hi s b o o k
is avai l abl e f r om t he Bri t i sh Li br ar y
I SBN 9 7 8 - 0 - 7 4 9 9 - 1 (>20-6
De s i gne d bv ( i i oi get t a Mc R c e
Pr i n t e d and b o u n d in t he UK bv
CI ' I Mackays , Ch a t h a m ME 5 <STI)
Pi at kus Books
An i mpr i nt of
Li t t l e. Br o wn Book Gr o u p
100 Vi ct or i a Emb a n k me n t
I o n d o n E C4 Y 0 DY
An Ll achet t e L.ivre UK Co mp a n y
www. h a c h e ttel i vre. i o u k
www. pi at kus . co. ; i k
To Elizabeth and Pedro,
who have remi nded me that there
are no coincidences in love
///ly thanks for their constant love and support go to
Carole, Jordan, and Amy.
My deepest appreciation goes to Joann Davis, my editor
at Warner Books, for her encouragement, insight, and
wisdom. She' s the best.
I am indebted to Joni Evans, agent extraordinaire, for
her boundless energy and enthusiasm.
And, finally, my gratitude goes to all of my patients
and workshop participants, who have shared their lives
with me.
header's Note
c^sychi at ri st -pat i ent confidentiality is a strong and time-
honored principle of psychiatric ethics. The patients men-
tioned in this book have authorized me to write their
true histories. Onl y names and other identifying details
have been altered in order to protect their privacy. Their
stones are true and unchanged.
The soul of man is like to water;
From Heaven it cometh
To Heaven it riseth
And then returneth to earth,
Forever alternating.
GOETHE
^ / u s t before rnv first book, Many Lives, Many Masters,
was published, I visited t he owner of a local bookst ore
to see if he had ordered it. We checked his comput er.
"Four copi es, " he told me. " Do you want to order
one?"
I wasn' t very sure that sales of the book woul d ever
reach the modest amount that the publisher had printed.
After all, this was a very strange book for a respected
psychiatrist t o have wri t t en. The book describes the true
story of a young pat i ent of mi ne whose past-life therapy
dramatically changed bot h our lives. However , I knew
that my friends, nei ghbors, and, certainly, my relatives
woul d buy mor e t han four copies, even it t he book di dn' t
seil anywhere else in t he count ry.
"Please, " I said to hi m. " My friends, some of my
patients, and ot her peopl e I know will be comi ng here
l ooki ng for my book. Can' t you order mor e?"
I had to personally guarantee the one hundr ed books
Preface
he reluctantly ordered.
To my utter shock, the book has become an i nt erna-
tional bestseller wi t h mor e than t wo million copies in
print, and it has been translated into mor e than t went y
languages. My life had taken anot her unusual twist.
After bei ng graduat ed wi t h honors f r om Col umbi a
University and compl et i ng my medical training at the
Yale University School of Medi ci ne, I also compl et ed an
internship at Ne w Yor k University' s t eachi ng hospitals
and a residency in psychiatry at Yale. Aft erward, I was a
professor on t he medical faculties at t he University of
Pittsburgh and t he University of Mi ami .
For the fol l owi ng eleven years, I was chai rman of the
Psychiatry Depar t ment at Mount Sinai Medical Cent er
in Mi ami . I had wri t t en many scientific papers and book
chapters. I was at t he apex of an academic career.
Cat heri ne, t he young patient described in my first book,
t hen walked i nt o my office in Mount Sinai. Her detailed
memori es of past lifetimes, whi ch I did not initially
believe, and her ability to transmit transcendental messages
while in a hypnot i zed trance state, t urned my life upside
down. I could no l onger see the worl d as I had before.
After Cat heri ne, many mor e patients came to me for
past-life regression therapy. Peopl e wi t h sympt oms resis-
tant t o traditional medical treatments and psychotherapies
wer e bei ng cured.
Through Time into Healing, my second book, describes
what I have learned about the healing potential of past-
life regression therapy. The book is filled wi t h t rue case
stories of actual patients.
The most i nt ri gui ng story of all is in Only Love Is Real,
my third book. Thi s book is about soulmates, peopl e who
are bonded eternally by their love and who come around
Preface
t oget her and t oget her again, life after life. Ho w we find
and recognize our soulmates and the life-transforming
decisions we must t hen make are among the most movi ng
and i mport ant moment s in our lives.
Destiny dictates t he meet i ng of soulmates. We will meet
t hem. But what we deci de to do after that meet i ng falls
in the provi nce of choi ce or free will. A wr ong choice
or a missed chance can lead to incredible loneliness and
suffering. A right choi ce, an opport uni t y realized, can
bring us to pr of ound bliss and happiness.
Elizabeth, a beautiful woman f r om the Mi dwest , began
therapy wi t h me because of her pr of ound grief and anxiety
after the death of her mot her . She had also been having
problems in her relationships wi t h men, choosi ng losers,
abusers, and ot her toxic partners. She had never f ound
true love in any mal e relationship.
We began the j our ney back to distant times, wi t h sur-
prising results.
At the same t i me that Elizabeth was under goi ng past-
life therapy wi t h me, I was also treating Pedro, a charmi ng
Mexi can who was also suffering f r om grief. His brot her
had recently died in a tragic accident. In addition, pr ob-
lems wi t h his mot her and secrets f r om his younger days
seemed to be conspi ri ng against hi m.
Pedro was bur dened wi t h despair and doubt s, and he
had no one wi t h wh o m t o share his troubles.
He, too, began a search i nt o ancient times to seek
solutions and healing.
Al t hough Elizabeth and Pedro were in therapy wi t h
me duri ng the same t i me peri od, they had never met each
ot her, as their appoi nt ment s wer e scheduled on different
days of the week.
Over the past fifteen years, I have oft en treated couples
Preface
and families who have discovered present -day partners and
loved ones in their past lives. Somet i mes I have regressed
couples who simultaneously and for t he first t i me have
f ound themselves interacting in the same pri or lifetime.
These revelations are oft en shocking t o t he couple. They
have not experi enced anyt hi ng like this before. They are
silent whi l e t he scenes unfol d in my psychiatric office. It is
only afterward, after emergi ng f r om t he relaxed, hypnot i c
state, that t hey first discover they have been wat chi ng the
same scenes, feeling t he same emot i ons. It is only t hen
that I also become aware of their past-life connect i ons.
But wi t h Elizabeth and Pedro everyt hi ng was reversed.
Thei r lives, and their lifetimes, were unfol di ng i ndepen-
dently and qui t e separately in my office. They did not
know each ot her. They had never met . They wer e f r om
different count ri es and cultures. Even I, seeing t hem bot h
separately and havi ng no reason to suspect a link bet ween
t hem, did not make a connect i on. Yet t hey seemed to
be describing t he same past lifetimes wi t h st unni ng similar-
ity of detail and emot i on. Coul d they have loved each
ot her and lost each ot her across lifetimes? In the begi n-
ning, none of us was aware of the gri ppi ng drama that
had already begun t o unfol d in the unsuspect i ng serenity
of my office.
I was the first to discover their connect i on. But now
what? Shoul d I tell t hem? What if I wer e wrong? What
about pat i ent -doct or confidentiality? What about their
current relationships? What about t i nkeri ng wi t h destiny?
What if a current life connect i on was not in their plans
or even in their best interests? Woul d anot her failed rela-
tionship under mi ne bot h the therapeutic gains that they
had made as well as their trust in me? It had been ingrained
in me duri ng my medical school years and subsequent
Preface
psychiatry residency at the Yale University School of
Medi ci ne to do no harm to patients. Whe n in doubt , do
no harm. Bot h Elizabeth and Pedro wer e i mprovi ng.
Should I just let it go at that?
Pedro was finishing his therapy and woul d soon leave
the country' . Ther e was an urgency to my decision.
Not all of their sessions, particularly Elizabeth' s, are
included in this book, as some sessions wer e not pert i nent
to their stones. Some were completely devot ed to tradi-
iional psychot herapy and did not include hypnosis or
regression.
What follows is wri t t en f r om medical records, tran-
scripts of tapes, and memor y. Onl y names and mi nor
details have been changed to ensure confidentiality. It is
a story of destiny and of hope. It is a story that happens
silently every day.
On this day, someone was listening.
/ /
chapter 1
Know, therefore, that from the greater silence I shall
return. . . . Forget not that I shall come back to
you. . . . A little while, a moment of rest upon the
wind, and another woman shall bear me.
KAHLIL GI BRAN
ere is someone special for everyone. Of t en there are
t wo or three or even four. They come f r om different genera-
tions. They travel across oceans of time and the depths of
heavenly dimensions to be with you again. They come from
the other side, from heaven. They look different, but your
heart knows t hem. Your heart has held t hem in arms like
yours in the moon-fi l l ed deserts of Egypt and the ancient
plains of Mongolia. You have ridden together in the armies
of forgotten warrior-generals, and you have lived together
in the sand-covered caves of the Ancient Ones. You are
bonded together t hroughout eternity, and you will never
be alone.
Your head may interfere: "I do not know you. " Your
heart knows.
He takes your hand for t he first time, and t he memor y
of his t ouch transcends t i me and sends a j ol t t hr ough
every at om of your bei ng. She looks into your eyes, and
you see a soul compani on across centuries. Your stomach
1
2 Brian L. Weiss
turns upside down. Your arms are gooseflesh. Everyt hi ng
outside this mome nt loses its i mport ance.
He may not recognize you, even t hough you have
finally met again, even t hough you know hi m. You can
feel the bond. You can see the potential, the future. But
he does not . His fears, his intellect, his probl ems keep a
veil over his heart' s eyes. He does not let you help hi m
sweep t he veil aside. You mour n and grieve, and he
moves on. Dest i ny can be so delicate.
Whe n bot h recogni ze each other, no vol cano could
erupt wi t h mor e passion. The energy released is t r emen-
dous.
Soul recogni t i on may be i mmedi at e. A sudden feeling
of familiarity, of knowi ng this new person at depths far
beyond what t he conscious mi nd coul d know. At depths
usually reserved for t he most intimate family members.
Or even deeper t han that. Intuitively knowi ng what to
say, how they will react. A feeling of safety and a trust
far greater than coul d be earned in only one day or one
week or one mont h.
Soul recogni t i on may be subtle and slow. A dawni ng
of awareness as t he veil is gently lifted. Not everyone is
ready to see right away. Ther e is a t i mi ng at wor k, and
patience may be necessary for the one who sees first.
You may be awakened to t he presence of your soul
compani on by a l ook, a dream, a memor y, a feeling. You
may be awakened by the t ouch of his hands or the kiss
of her lips, and your soul is j ol t ed back to life.
The t ouch that awakens may be that of your child, of
a parent, of a sibling, or of a true friend. Or it may be
your beloved, reachi ng across the centuries, to kiss you
once again and to remi nd you that you are t oget her
always, to the end of time.
Chapter 2
My life as I lived it had often seemed to me like a
story that has no beginning and no end. I had the
feeling that I was a historical fragment, an excerpt for
which the preceding and succeeding text was missing. I
could well imagine that I might have lived informer
centuries and there encountered questions I was not
yet able to answer; that I had to be born again because
I had not fulfilled the task that was given to me.
CARL J UNG
rV^all, thin, and attractive wi t h l ong bl onde hair, Elizabeth
had sad blue eyes wi t h specks of hazel in t hem. Her
melancholy eyes over power ed her loose navy blue busi-
ness suit as she sat nervously in the large whi t e leather
reclining chair in my office.
Elizabeth felt compel l ed t o see me, searching for hope
after reading Many Lives, Many Masters and i dent i fyi ng
with Cat heri ne, t he book' s heroi ne, on many levels.
"I don' t know much about why you' r e her e, " I com-
ment ed, breaking t he usual impasse at t he begi nni ng of
therapy. I had briefly glanced at the i nformat i on sheet all
new patients fill out . Name, age, referral source, chief
complaints and sympt oms. Elizabeth had listed grief, anxi -
ety, and sleep disturbance as her maj or maladies. As she
began to talk, I mentally added "relationships" to her list.
" My life is such a mess, " she stated. Her history began
to pour out, as it it wer e finally safe to talk about these
things. The release of pent - up pressure was palpable.
3
4 Brian L. Weiss
Despite t he drama of her life's story and t he depths of
emot i on lying j ust under the surface of her telling it,
Elizabeth quickly mi ni mi zed its i mport ance.
" My story is not nearly as dramatic as Cat heri ne' s, "
she said. " Ther e won' t be any book about me. "
Her story, dramatic or not, flowed fort h.
Elizabeth was a successful busi nesswoman wi t h her own
account i ng fi rm in Mi ami . Thi r t y- t wo years old, she was
born and reared in rural Mi nnesot a. She grew up on a
large farm wi t h her parents, an older brot her, and many
animals. Her father was a hard-worki ng, stoical man who
had great difficulty expressing his emot i ons. Whe n he did
display emot i on, it was usually anger and rage. He woul d
lose his t emper and lash out impulsively at his family,
sometimes striking her brot her. The abuse Elizabeth
received was only verbal, but it hurt her greatly.
Deep wi t hi n her heart, Elizabeth still carried this child-
hood wound. Her self-image had been damaged by her
father' s condemnat i ons and criticisms. A pr of ound pain
envel oped her heart. She felt impaired and somehow
defective, and she worri ed that others, especially men,
could also perceive her shortcomings.
Fortunately her father' s outbursts wer e i nfrequent , and
he quickly retreated to the stern and stoical isolation that
characterized his personality and behavi or.
Elizabeth' s mot her was a progressive and i ndependent
woman. She pr omot ed Elizabeth' s self-reliance whi l e
remai ni ng war m and emotionally nurt uri ng. Because of
the children and the times, she chose to stay on the farm
and to tolerate reluctantly her husband' s harshness and
emot i onal wi t hdrawal .
" My mot her was like an angel, " Elizabeth went on.
"Always there, always caring, always sacrificing for the
Only Love Is Real 5
sake of her chi l dren. " Elizabeth, the baby, was her mot h-
er's favorite. She had many f ond memori es of chi l dhood.
The fondest of all wer e times of closeness to her mot her ,
of the special love that bonded t hem t oget her and that
maintained itself over t i me.
Elizabeth grew up, was graduated f r om high school,
and went away to college in Mi ami , wher e she had been
offered a generous scholarship. Mi ami seemed like an
exotic adventure to her, and she was lured away f r om
the cold Midwest. Her mot her reveled in Elizabeth' s
adventures. They wer e best friends, and even t hough they
mostly communi cat ed by phone and mail, their mot her -
daughter relationship stayed strong. Holidays and vaca-
tions were happy times for t hem, as Elizabeth rarely missed
a chance to go back home.
Dur i ng some of these visits, Elizabeth' s mot her talked
about retiring to Sout h Florida t o be near Elizabeth. The
family farm was large and increasingly difficult to run.
They had saved a considerable amount of money, an
amount augment ed by her father' s frugality. Elizabeth
looked forward to living near her mot her again. Thei r
nearly daily contacts woul d no l onger have t o occur by
t el ephone.
So Elizabeth stayed in Mi ami after college. She started
her own account i ng fi rm, whi ch was slowly building.
Compet i t i on was keen, and t he wor k absorbed great
chunks of her t i me. Rel at i onshi ps wi t h men added t o her
stress.
Then disaster struck.
Approximately eight mont hs prior to her first appoi nt -
ment wi t h me, Elizabeth was devastated because of her
mot her' s death f r om pancreatic cancer. Elizabeth felt as
it her own heart had been t orn apart and ripped out by
6 Brian L. Weiss
the death of her bel oved mot her. She was having an
enormousl y difficult time resolving her grief. She coul dn' t
integrate it, coul dn' t understand whv this had to happen.
Elizabeth painfully told me about her mot her' s coura-
geous battle wi t h the virulent cancer that ravaged her
body. Her spirit and her love remai ned unt ouched. Bot h
women felt a pr of ound sadness. Physical separation was
inevitable, quietly but persistently approaching. Eliza-
beth' s father, grieving in anticipation, grew even more
distant, wrapped in his solitude. Her brot her, living in
California wi t h a young family and a new business, kept
a physical distance. Elizabeth traveled to Mi nnesot a as
oft en as possible.
She had no one wi t h whom to share her fears and her
pain. She did not want to burden her dyi ng mot her any
mor e than was absolutely necessary. So Elizabeth kept
her despair inside, and each day felt increasingly heavy.
"I will miss you so much. . . . I love you, " her mot her
told her. " The most difficult part is leaving you. I' m not
afraid of dying. I ' m not afraid ot what awaits me. I just
don' t want t o leave you yet . "
As she grew weaker and weaker, her mot her' s resolve
to stay l onger gradually diminished. Deat h woul d be a
wel come relief f r om the debility and the pam. Her last
day arrived.
Elizabeth' s mot her was in the hospital, t he small r oom
crowded wi t h family and visitors Her breat hi ng became
erratic. The uri ne tubes showed no drainage; her kidneys
had ceased to funct i on. She lapsed into and out of con-
sciousness. At one point Elizabeth f ound herself alone
wi t h her mot her . At this moment her mot her ' s eyes wi d-
ened, and she became lucid again.
Only Love Is Real 7
i won' t leave you, " her mot her said in a suddenly
firm voice. "I' ll always love you! "
Those were the last words Elizabeth heard f r om her
mot her, who now lapsed i nt o a coma. Her respirations
became even mor e erratic, wi t h l ong stops and sudden,
gasping starts.
Soon she was gone. Elizabeth felt a deep and gaping
hole in her heart and in her life. She coul d actually feel
a physical aching in her chest. She felt she woul d never
be completely whol e again. Elizabeth cried for mont hs.
Elizabeth missed t he frequent phone calls wi t h her
mot her. She tried calling her father mor e oft en, but he
remained wi t hdr awn and had very little t o talk about . He
woul d be off the phone wi t hi n a mi nut e or t wo. He was
not capable of nur t ur i ng or comfort i ng her. He also was
grieving, and his grief isolated hi m even mor e. Her br ot h-
er in California, wi t h his wi fe and t wo young children,
was also devastated by his mot her' s death, but he was
busy wi t h his family and career.
Her grief began to evolve into a depression wi t h
increasingly significant sympt oms. Elizabeth was having
problems sleeping at night. She had difficulty falling asleep
and she woul d awaken much t oo early in t he morni ng,
unable to fall back t o sleep. She lost interest in f ood and
began losing wei ght . She had a noticeable lack of energy.
She lost enthusiasm for relationships, and her ability to
concent rat e became increasingly impaired.
Before her mot her ' s death, Elizabeth' s anxiety consisted
mainly o f j o b stresses, such as deadlines and difficult deci-
sions. She was also anxious at times about her relationships
with men, with how she should act and what their
responses woul d be.
8 Brian L. Weiss
Elizabeth' s anxiety levels increased dramatically after
the death of her mot her . She had lost her daily confi dant e
and adviser, her closest friend. She had lost her primary
source of gui dance and support. Elizabeth felt disoriented,
alone, adrift.
She called for an appoi nt ment .
Elizabeth came into my office hopi ng t o find a past
life in whi ch she had been t oget her wi t h her mot her or
to contact her in a mystical experi ence. In books and
lectures I have talked about peopl e in meditative states
having such mystical encount ers wi t h l oved ones. Eliza-
bet h had read my first book, and she seemed aware of
the possibility of these experiences.
As peopl e open up to the possibility, even t he probabi l -
ity, of life after the death of the physical body, of the
cont i nuat i on of consciousness after leaving t he physical
body, they begi n t o have mor e of these mystical experi -
ences in dreams and in ot her altered states of conscious-
ness. Whet her these encount ers are real or not is difficult
to prove. But t hey are vivid and filled wi t h feeling. Some-
times t he person even becomes aware of specific i nforma-
tion, facts or details that were known only t o t he deceased.
These revelations f r om spiritual visits are difficult to
ascribe solely t o imagination. I believe now that such new
knowl edge is obtained, or visits are made, not because
peopl e wish this to happen, not because t hey need it, but
because this is t he way contacts are made.
Of t en t he messages are very similar, especially in
dreams: I' m all right. I' m fine. Take care of yourself. I
love you.
Elizabeth was hopi ng for some t ype of reuni on or
contact wi t h her mot her. Her heart ache needed some
balm to ease the constant pain.
Only Love Is Real
9
Mor e of her history emerged duri ng this first session.
Elizabeth had been marri ed for a brief peri od of time
to a local contractor, who had t wo children by a previous
marriage. Al t hough she was not passionately in love wi t h
this man, he was a good person, and she t hought that this
relationship woul d bri ng some stability into her life. But
passion in a relationship cannot be artificially created.
There can be respect, and t here can be compassion, but the
chemistry has to be t here f r om the start. Wh e n Elizabeth
discovered that her husband was having an extramarital
affair wi t h someone who coul d provi de mor e exci t ement
and passion, she reluctantly left the relationship. She was
sad about the breakup and sad t o leave the t wo children,
but she did not grieve because of the divorce. The loss
of her mot her was much mor e severe.
Because of her physical beauty, Elizabeth f ound it easy
to meet and date ot her men after the divorce. But none
of these relationships had fire either. Elizabeth began to
doubt herself, to try t o fi nd wher e wi t hi n herself t he fault
lay in her inability to establish good relationships wi t h
men. " What is wr ong wi t h me?" she woul d ask herself.
And her self-esteem woul d dip anot her not ch.
The barbed arrows of her father' s painful criticisms
duri ng her chi l dhood had left wounds in her psyche. The
tailed relationships wi t h men rubbed salt in these wounds.
She began a relationship wi t h a professor at a nearby
university, but he coul d not commi t t o her because of
his own fears. Even t hough t here was a strong feeling of
tenderness and underst andi ng, and even t hough the t wo
communi cat ed very well, his inability to commi t to a
relationship and t o trust his feelings doomed that relation-
ship to a quiet and unspectacular ending.
Some mont hs later Elizabeth met and began dating a
10 Brian L. Weiss
successful banker. She felt secure and prot ect ed in this
relationship even t hough, once again, the chemistry was
limited. He, however , was strongly attracted to Elizabeth
and became angry and jealous when she ai d not reci pro-
cate wi t h t he ki nd of energy and enthusiasm that he
expected. He began to drink more, and he became physi-
cally abusive. Elizabeth left this relationship, too.
She had been quietly despairing of ever meet i ng a
man wi t h wh o m she could have a good and intimate
relationship.
She had t hr own herself into her wor k, enlarging her
firm, hi di ng behi nd the numbers and calculations and
paperwork. Her relationships primarily consisted of busi -
ness contacts. And even t hough f r om t i me t o time a man
woul d ask her out, Elizabeth woul d do somet hi ng to
discourage that interest before it grew into anything
serious.
Elizabeth was aware that her biological clock was tick-
ing, and she still hoped to meet the perfect man some
day. but she had lost a great deal of confi dence.
The first therapy session, devoted to gathering historical
information, formulating a diagnosis and therapeutic ap-
proach, and sowing the seeds of trust in our relationship,
had ended. The ice had been broken. I decided not to use
Prozac or other antidepressants at this rime. We woul d aim
for a cure, not just the covering over of her symptoms
At the next session, one week later, we woul d begin
the arduous j our ney back t hr ough t i me.
So long ago! And yet I'm still the same Margaret.
It's only our lives that grow old. We are where
centuries only count as seconds, and after a thousand
lives our eyes begin to open.
EUGENE O' NEI I . I
- / r i o r to my experiences wi t h Cat heri ne, I had never
even heard of past-life regression therapy. T his was not
taught when I was at Yale Medical School, nor anywhere
else, I was to learn.
I can still vividly r emember the first time. I had
instructed Cat heri ne to travel backward in time, hopi ng
to discover chi l dhood traumas that had been repressed,
or forgotten, and that I felt were causing her current
symptoms of anxiety and depression.
She had already reached a deeply hypnot i zed state,
which I had i nduced by gently relaxing her wi t h my
voice. Her concent rat i on was focused on my instructions.
Dur i ng her therapy session the week previously, we
had used hypnosis for the first time. Cat heri ne had
remembered several chi l dhood traumas wi t h considerable
detail and emot i on. Usually in therapy, when forgot t en
traumas are r emember ed wi t h their accompanyi ng emo-
tions, a process called catharsis, patients begin t o i mprove.
1 1
12 Brian L. Weiss
Cat heri ne' s sympt oms remai ned severe, however, and I
assumed that we had to uncover even mor e repressed
chi l dhood memori es. Then she should i mprove.
Carefully I t ook Cat heri ne back to t he age of t wo, but
she recalled no significant memori es.
1 instructed her firmly and clearly: " Go back to the
time f r om whi ch your sympt oms arise." I was totally
shocked by her response.
"I see whi t e steps leading up to a building, a big whi t e
bui l di ng wi t h pillars, open in front . Ther e are no door -
ways. I ' m weari ng a l ong dress . . . a sack made of rough
material. My hair is braided, l ong bl onde hai r. "
Her name was Aronda, a young woma n who lived
nearly four t housand years ago. She died suddenly in a
flood or tidal wave, whi ch devastated her village.
" Ther e are bi g waves knocki ng down trees. There' s
no place t o run. It's cold, the wat er is cold. I have to
save my baby, but I cannot . . . . Just have t o hold her
tight. I dr own; the wat er chokes me. I can' t breathe, can' t
swallow . . . salty water. My baby is t orn out of my arms. "
Cat heri ne had been gasping and havi ng difficulty
breat hi ng dur i ng this tragic memor y. Suddenl y her body
relaxed compl et el y, and her breat hi ng became deep and
even.
"I see clouds. . . . My baby is wi t h me. And others
f r om my village. I see my br ot her . "
She was resting. That lifetime had ended. Al t hough
neither she nor I believed in past lives, we had bot h been
dramatically i nt r oduced to an ancient experience.
Incredibly, her lifelong fear of gagging, or choki ng,
virtually disappeared after this one session. I knew that
imagination or fantasy could not cure such deeply i mbed-
ded, chroni c sympt oms. Cathartic memor y could.
Only Love Is Real
13
Week after week, Cat heri ne r emember ed mor e past
lives. Her sympt oms disappeared. She was cured, wi t hout
the use of any medicines. Toget her, we had discovered
the healing power of regression therapy.
Because of my skepticism and rigorous scientific train-
ing, I h
a
d
a
difficult t i me accepting the concept of past
lives. Two factors eroded my skepticism, one rapid and
highly emotional, t he ot her gradual and intellectual.
In one session, Cat heri ne had j ust r emember ed her
death in an ancient lifetime, a death f r om an epidemic
that had swept t hr ough the land. She was still in a deep
hypnotic trance, aware of floating above her body, bei ng
drawn to a beautiful light. She began to speak.
"They tell me t here are many gods, for God is in each
of us."
She t hen began to tell me very private details about
the lives and deaths of my father and my infant son. They
had both died years previously, far away f r om Miami.
Catherine, a laboratory technician at Mount Sinai Medical
Center, knew not hi ng at all about t hem. Ther e was no
person who could have given her these details. Ther e was
no place to look up this i nformat i on. She was stunningly
accurate. I felt shocked and chilled as she related these
hidden, secret truths.
" Who, " I asked her, " who is there? Wh o tells you
these things?"
" The Masters, " she whi spered, "t he Mast er Spirits tell
me. They tell me I have lived eighty-six times in physical
state."
Catherine later described the Masters as highly evolved
s
ouls not presently in body who could speak to me
through her. From t hem I received spectacular and pr o-
found i nformat i on and insights.
14 Brian L. Weiss
Cat heri ne had no background in physics or met aphys-
ics. The knowl edge t he Masters transmitted seemed far
beyond Cat heri ne' s capabilities. She knew not hi ng about
dimensional planes and vibrational levels. Yet , deep in
the trance state, she described these compl ex phenomena.
Beyond that, t he beaut y of her words and t hought s and
the philosophical implications of her ut t enngs far t ran-
scended her conscious abilities. Cat heri ne had never
before talked in such a concise, poet i c manner.
Whe n I listened to her as she relayed concepts f r om
the Masters, I coul d sense anot her, hi gher force struggling
wi t h her mi nd and vocal cords t o translate these t hought s
into words so that I coul d underst and t hem.
Dur i ng t he course of her remai ni ng therapy sessions,
Cat heri ne relayed many mor e messages f r om t he Masters.
Beautiful messages about life and death, about spiritual
dimensions and t he purpose of our lives on t he earth. My
awakeni ng had begun. My skepticism was eroding.
I r emember t hi nki ng, "Si nce she' s correct about my
father and my son, coul d she also be correct about past lives
and reincarnation, about the i mmort al i t y of t he soul?"
I believe so.
The Masters also spoke about past lives.
" We choose when we will come i nt o our physical
state and when we will leave. We know when we have
accomplished what we were sent down here t o accom-
plish. We know when the time is up, and you will accept
your death. For you know that you can get not hi ng mor e
out of this lifetime. Whe n you have time, when you have
had the time to rest and re-energize your soul, you are
allowed t o choose your re-ent ry back into the physical
state. Those peopl e who hesitate, who are not sure of
their ret urn here, they nught lose the chance that was
Only Love Is Real 15
given t hem, a chance t o fulfill what t hey must when
thev' re in physical state. "
Since my experi ence wi t h Cat heri ne, I have regressed
m
o r e than one t housand individual patients t o their past
lives. Very, very f ew of t hem coul d reach the level of
the Masters. However , I have observed amazi ng clinical
i mprovement in most of these people. I have seen patients
remember a name duri ng the recall of a recent lifetime and
subsequently fi nd old records that validate t he existence of
that past-life person, conf i r mi ng the details of the me m-
ory. Some patients have even f ound t he graves of their
own previous physical bodies.
I have observed a f ew patients who whi l e in regression
are able to speak port i ons of languages t hey have never
learned, or have never even heard, in their current life-
time. 1 have also studied some children who have sponta-
neously exhibited this ability, whi ch is known as
xenoglossy.
1 have read t he findings of ot her scientists who are
independently practicing past-life regression therapy and
who are report i ng results extremely similar t o mi ne.
As described in detail in my second book, Through
Time into Healing, this t herapy can benefi t many types of
patients, especially those wi t h emot i onal and psychoso-
matic disorders.
R egression t herapy is also extremely useful in recogniz-
ing and st oppi ng recurrent destructive patterns, such as
drug or alcohol abuse and probl ems in relationships.
Many of my patients recall habits, traumas, and abusive
relationships that not only occurred in their past lifetimes
but are again occurri ng in the current life. For example,
ne patient r emember ed a violently abusive husband in
a
past lite who has resurfaced in the present as her violent
16 Brian L. Weiss
father. On e warri ng coupl e discovered t hey had been
killing each ot her in four previous lifetimes t oget her. The
stories and t he patterns go on and on.
Whe n t he recurri ng pattern has been recognized, when
its causes have been underst ood, it can be broken. Ther e
is no sense in cont i nui ng the pain.
Nei t her the therapist nor the patient has to believe in
past lives for t he t echni que and process of regression t her-
apy to wor k. But if t hey try it, clinical i mpr ovement oft en
results.
Spiritual gr owt h almost always results.
I once regressed a man f r om Sout h America who
r emember ed a gui l t -ri dden lifetime as part of the team
that helped to devel op and ultimately dr op the at omi c
bomb on Hi roshi ma in order to end Wor l d War II. No w
a radiologist in a maj or hospital, this man uses radiation
and moder n t echnol ogy to save lives rather than to erase
t hem. He is a gentle, beautiful, caring man in this life.
This is an exampl e of how a soul can evolve and be
t ransformed even t hr ough the most i gnobl e of lifetimes.
It is the learning that is i mport ant , not the j udgment . He
learned f r om his Wor l d War II lifetime, and he has applied
the skills and knowl edge to help ot her souls in the current
lifetime. The guilt f r om the first lifetime is not i mport ant .
It is only i mpor t ant t o learn f r om the past, not to rumi nat e
and to feel guilty about it.
Accordi ng to a USA To ^ y / CNN/ Ga l l u p Poll con-
duct ed on December 18, 1994, belief in reincarnation is
increasing in t he Uni t ed States, a count ry that lags behi nd
most of the rest of the worl d in this belief. Twent y-
Only Love Is Real
17
seven percent of adults in the Uni t ed States believe in
reincarnation, up f r om 21 percent in 1990.
There is mor e. The number who believe that there
can be cont act wi t h t he dead has risen f r om 18 percent
in 1990 to 28 percent in December 1994. Ni net y percent
believe in heaven, and 79 percent believe in miracles.
I can almost hear t he spirits clapping.
r 4
So the idea of reincarnation contains a most comforting
explanation of reality by means of which Indian
thought surmounts difficulties which baffle the think-
ers of Europe.
ALBERT SCHWEI TZER
El i zabet h' s first experi ence wi t h regression occurred the
fol l owi ng week. I quickly put her i nt o a deep state of
hypnosis by using a rapi d-i nduct i on met hod in order to
bypass t he blocks and obstacles that t he conscious mi nd
oft en constructs.
Hypnosis is a state of focused concent rat i on, but the
ego, the mi nd, has the ability to interfere wi t h this concen-
tration by bri ngi ng up distracting t hought s. In using a
rapi d-i nduct i on t echni que, I was able t o put Elizabeth
into a deep hypnot i c state wi t hi n a mi nut e.
I had given her a relaxation tape to play at home duri ng
the week bet ween her appoi nt ment s. I had recorded this
tape to help my patients practice the t echni ques of self-
hypnosis. I f ound that the mor e they practice at home,
the deeper t hey seem to go in the office. The tape also
helps patients t o relax, and it oft en helps t hem to fall
asleep.
Elizabeth t ned listening to the tape at home, but she
18
Only Love Is Real 19
coul dn' t relax. She felt much t oo anxious. What if some-
thing happened? She worri ed that because she was alone
there was nobody t o help her.
Her mind "protected" her by allowing everyday
thoughts to crowd in and distract her from the tape.
Between her nervousness and her thoughts, she couldn't
concentrate.
As she described her experi ence at home wi t h the tape,
I decided to use a mor e rapid met hod of hypnosis t o
move her beyond t he obstacles that her mi nd and her
fears were creating.
The most c ommon t echni que used t o i nduce the hyp-
notic trance is called progressive relaxation. Begi nni ng by
having the patient slow her breathing, t he therapist t hen
talks t he patient i nt o a deeply relaxed state by instructing
the patient to gently and sequentially relax her muscles.
Then she is asked t o visualize or i magi ne beautiful and
relaxing scenes. By using techniques such as count i ng
backward, t he therapist helps the patient go even deeper.
By this t i me, t he patient is in a light t o moderat e
hypnot i c trance, whi ch t he therapist can t hen deepen if
desired. The whol e process takes about fifteen minutes.
Dur i ng this fi ft een minutes, however , t he patient' s
mi nd can disrupt t he hypnot i c process by t hi nki ng or
analyzing or debat i ng instead of relaxing and flowing wi t h
the suggestions.
Account ant s and ot her peopl e who have been drilled to
think in a logical, linear, highly rational pat t ern frequently
allow the chatter of their minds t o disrupt the process.
Even t hough I felt Elizabeth coul d go under deeply no
matter whi ch t echni que I used, I deci ded t o use a mor e
rapid met hod anyway, j ust t o be sure.
I told Elizabeth to sit forward in her chair, to keep her
20 Brian L. Weiss
gaze fixed on my eyes, and t o press down wi t h her right
hand, whi ch was palm to palm wi t h mi ne. I was standing
in front of her.
As she applied t he pressure t o my hand, wi t h her body
tilted slightly forward in the chair, I talked to her. Her
eyes wer e fixed on mi ne.
Suddenly and wi t hout any warni ng, I pulled away my
hand, whi ch was underneat h hers. He r body, now unsup-
port ed, l urched forward. At this precise moment , I said
"Sl eep!" very ioudiy.
Instantly, Elizabeth' s body collapsed back i nt o the chair.
She was already in a deep hypnot i c trance. Whi l e her
conscious mi nd had been preoccupi ed wi t h the sudden
loss of balance, my command to sleep traveled directly
and wi t hout any i nt erference to her subconscious. She
went directly i nt o a state of conscious "sl eep, " whi ch is
the equivalent of hypnosis.
" You can r emember everything, every experience you
have ever had, " I told her. We coul d now begin the
j our ney backward.
1 want ed t o see whi ch of her senses predomi nat ed m
her recollections so I asked her t o go back t o her last
pleasant meal, and I instructed her to use all of her senses
as she r emember ed the meal. She r emember ed the smell,
the taste, the sight, and t he feeling ot a recent di nner so
I knew she had the ability for vivid recall. It seemed, in
her case, that t he visual sense was the most predomi nant .
And then I t ook her back into her childhood t o see if she
could retrieve a memory from a placid penod in her Mi nne-
sota childhood. She smiled a little girl's contented smile.
" I ' m in t he ki t chen wi t h my mot her . She looks very
young. I' m young, too. I' m little. I' m about five. And
we' r e cooki ng. We' r e maki ng pies . . . and cookies. It's
Only Love Is Real 21
fun. My mot her ' s happy. I can see it all, the apron, her
hair up. I can smell the smells. They' r e wonder f ul . "
"Wal k i nt o anot her r oom and tell me what you see, "
I instructed her.
She walked i nt o t he living r oom. She described t he
large dark wood furni t ure, the wel l - wor n floors. And
then a portrait of her mot her , a phot ogr aph that was on
a dark wooden table next t o a bi g comfort abl e chair.
"I see my mot her in the pi ct ure, " Elizabeth went on.
"She' s beautiful . . . so young. I see t he pearls around her
neck. She loves those pearls. They' r e for special occasions.
The beautiful whi t e dress . . . her dark hair . . . her eyes
are so bright and so heal t hy. "
" Good, " I said, " I ' m glad you r emember her and that
you can see her so clearly."
The virtual certainty of rememberi ng a recent meal or a
childhood scene helps build the patient's confidence in his
or her ability to recall memories. These memories show the
patient that hypnosis works and that it is not frightening,
that the process can even be pleasant. The patient sees that
recalled memories are often more vivid and more detailed
than the memories of the conscious, waking mind.
After emergi ng f r om the trance, patients almost always
consciously r emember memori es recalled duri ng hypno-
sis. Onl y rarely are patients in such a deep state that
they have amnesia for what was experi enced. Al t hough
I frequently t ape-record regression sessions t o ensure accu-
racy and to refer to whe n necessary, t he tapes are mor e
for me than for t he patients. They r emember vividly.
' Now we will go even further back. Don' t worry what
is imagination, what is fantasy, what is met aphor or symbol,
actual memory or some combination of all of these," I told
ber. Just let yourself expenence. Try not to let your mind
22 Brian L. Weiss
j udge or criticize or even comment on the material you
are experiencing. Just experience it. This is only for the
experience. You can critique it afterward. You can analyze
it later. But for now just let yourself experience.
" We' r e goi ng back into the wo mb now, into the i n-
ut ero peri od, j ust before you wer e born. What ever pops
into your mi nd is fine. Just let yourself experience i t . "
And I count ed back f r om five to one, deepeni ng her
state of hypnosis.
Elizabeth felt herself inside her mother' s womb. It was
warm and safe, and she could feel her mother' s love. A tear
trickled down from the corner of each of her closed eyes.
She r emember ed how much her parents had want ed
her, especially her mot her . The tears wer e tears of happi -
ness and of nostalgia.
Elizabeth coul d already feel t he love that woul d greet
her birth, and this made her feel very happy.
Her experi ence in the womb is not positive proof that
the memor y is accurate, or that it is i ndeed a compl et e
memor y. But to Elizabeth the sensations and emot i ons
were so strong and so power f ul that t hey were real to
her, and this made her feel much better.
Whi l e under hypnosis, a patient of mi ne r emember ed
bei ng born as a t wi n. The ot her baby was stillborn. Ho w-
ever, the pat i ent never knew that she had a t wi n sister.
Her parents had never told her about her stillborn sibling.
Wh e n she told her parents about her experience under
hypnosis, t hey confi rmed the compl et e accuracy of her
recall. She was i ndeed a twin.
Usually, however , memori es f r om t he womb are diffi-
cult t o validate.
"Ar e you ready to go furt her back now?"' I asked,
Only Love Is Real 23
hopi ng Elizabeth had not become fri ght ened by the i nt en-
sity of her emot i ons.
"Yes, " she answered calmly. " I ' m ready. "
" Good, " I said. " No w we' r e goi ng back to see if you
can r emember anyt hi ng f r om before birth, either in a
mystical or spiritual state, in anot her di mensi on, or even
in a past life. What ever pops i nt o your mi nd is fine. Don' t
critique it. Don' t wor r y about it. Just experience. Let
yourself exper i ence. "
I had her i magi ne herself wal ki ng i nt o an elevator and
pushing a but t on as I slowly count ed backward f r om five
to one. The elevator traveled back t hr ough time and
through space, and the door opened whe n I said " one. "
I instructed her t o step outside and j oi n t he figure, the
scene, the experi ence on the ot her side of t he door. But
it was not what I expect ed.
"It' s so dark, " she said, wi t h t error in her voice. "I ' ve
. . . I' ve fallen off t he boat. It's so cold. It's terrible. "
"If you become uncomf or t abl e, " I quickly i nt errupt ed,
"just float above the scene and wat ch it as if you are
wat chi ng a movi e. But if you' r e not uncomfort abl e, stay
with it. See what happens. See what you experi ence. "
The experi ence was fri ght eni ng t o her, so she floated
above. Elizabeth coul d see herself as a t eenage boy. Havi ng
fallen off a boat in a st orm at night, this boy had dr owned
m the dark waters. Suddenl y her breat hi ng slowed not i ce-
ably, and she seemed mor e peaceful. She had det ached
from the body.
"I have left that body, " Elizabeth said, almost matter
of factly.
This had all happened extremely rapidly. Before I had
time to explore t he lifetime, she was already out of that
24
Brian L. Weiss
body. I want ed her t o review what had happened, to tell
me what she coul d see and underst and.
" What wer e you doi ng on the boat ?" I asked her,
trying to back up in time even t hough she was already
out of her body.
"I was traveling wi t h my fat her, " she said. "And a
sudden storm came up. The boat began t o take on water.
It was very unstable and rocki ng wildly. The waves were
huge, and I was swept over the side. "
" What happened to the ot her peopl e?" I asked.
"I don' t know, " she said. "I was swept over the side.
I don' t know what happened to t hem. "
"About how old are you when this happens?"
"I don' t know, " she answered. "About twelve or t hi r-
teen. A young t eenager. "
Elizabeth did not seem eager t o vol unt eer any mor e
details. She had left that life early, bot h in that lifetime
and in r emember i ng it in my office. We could not get
any mor e i nformat i on. And so I awakened her.
The fol l owi ng week, Elizabeth seemed less depressed
even t hough I had prescribed no antidepressant medi ca-
tion t o treat her sympt oms of grief and depression.
"I feel l i ght er , " she said. "I feel freer, and I fi nd I ' m
not as uncomf or t abl e in t he dar k. "
El i zabet h had always been s omewhat uneasy in t he
dark, and she avoi ded goi ng out al one at ni ght . At
home, she of t en kept all t he lights on. But in t he past
week she had not i ced i mpr ovement wi t h this sympt om.
Unbe knowns t t o me, s wi mmi ng made her feel uneasy
and s omewhat anxi ous, but in t he past week she was
able t o spend t i me in t he pool and j acuzzi in her c ondo-
mi ni um compl ex. Al t hough these wer e not her mam
Only Love Is Real 25
concerns, she was pl eased that t hese sympt oms wer e
di mi ni shi ng.
So many of our fears are based in t he past, not the
future. Of t en t he things we fear t he most have already
happened ei t her in chi l dhood or in a past life. Because
we have forgot t en or onl y dimly r emember , we fear that
the traumatic event may become real in our fut ure.
But Elizabeth was still very sad, and we had not f ound
her mot her except in a chi l dhood memor y. The search
woul d c ont i nue .
Elizabeth' s story is fascinating. Pedro' s is similarly so.
Yet their stories are not compl et el y uni que. Many of my
patients have suffered f r om pr of ound grief, f r om fears and
phobias, f r om frustrating relationships. Many have f ound
their lost loved ones in ot her times and ot her places. Many
have been able t o heal their grief as t hey r emember past
lifetimes and reach spiritual states.
Some of t he peopl e I have regressed are celebrities.
Some are seemingly ordi nary peopl e wi t h amazi ng stories.
Thei r experiences reflect t he universal t hemes embodi ed
in the unfol di ng j our neys of Elizabeth and Pedro as they
approach t he crossroads of destiny.
We are all wal ki ng al ong the same pat h.
In November of 1992 I traveled t o Ne w Yor k Ci t y
to regress Joan Ri vers as part of a segment for her television
talk show. We had arranged for t he regression t o be taped
in a private hot el suite several days pri or t o t he live taping
of Joan' s show. Joan arrived late, delayed by Howar d
Stem, the radio host who was her uni nhi bi t ed guest on
that day' s show. She was not very relaxed, still in her
television makeup, j ewel ry, and a beautiful red sweater.
26 Brian L. Weiss
As we talked pri or to the regression, I learned that she
was still grieving the deaths of her mot her and her hus-
band. Al t hough her mot her had died years earlier, their
relationship had been very intense, and Joan cont i nued
to miss her greatly. Her husband' s death was more recent.
Joan sat stiffly in a plush, bei ge-pat t erned chair. The
cameras began to record an extraordinary scene.
Soon Joan sl umped down i nt o the chair, her chin rest-
ing precariously on the palm of her hand. Her breathing
slowed and she went deeply i nt o the hypnot i c state. "I
went under very deepl y, " she later said.
The regression began, and we went backward t hrough
time. Her first stop was at the age of four. She remembered
stress at home caused by a visit f r om her grandmot her.
Joan could see herself vividly.
" I ' m weari ng a checked dress wi t h Mary Jane shoes
and whi t e socks. "
We left for a mor e distant t i me. The year was 1835,
and she was in England, wher e she was a woman of the
gentry.
"I have dark hair, and I ' m taller and slim, " she observed.
She had t hree children.
" On e is definitely my mot her , " she added. Joan recog-
nized that one of her children in that lifetime, a six-year-
old daught er, had reincarnated as her present-day mot her.
" Ho w do you know it's her?" I asked.
"I just know it' s her , " she responded emphatically. Soul
recogni t i on oft en transcends verbal description. Ther e is
an intuitive knowi ng, a knowl edge of the heart. Joan
Ri vers knew that this little girl and her mot her were the
same soul.
She did not recognize the Engl i shwoman' s husband,
Only Love Is Real 27
who was also tall and slim, as someone in her present life.
' He' s weari ng a beaver top hat , " she elaborated. He was
formally dressed. " We ' r e walking in a large park wi t h
gardens," she not ed.
Joan began to cry and want ed to leave that time. One
of her children was dying.
"It' s her!" she sobbed, meani ng the daught er whom
she recognized as her mot her in her current lifetime.
"Terri bl e . . . terribly sad!" The young girl died, and we
left that time and place.
We moved even furt her back in time, back into the
eighteenth cent ury.
"It' s seventeen [hundred) somet hi ng. . . . I' m a fanner,
a man.' " She seemed surprised at the change of gender,
but this was a happi er lifetime.
"I ' m a very good f i r mer because I love the earth so
much, " she observed. In her current life, Joan loves to
work in her gardens, wher e she finds peace and a respite
from her hectic show-business life.
I gently awakened her. Her grief was already begi nni ng
to heal. She under st ood that her preci ous mot her , who
was her young daught er in 1835 Engl and, was a soul
compani on across t he centuries. Even t hough they were
now once mor e separated, Joan knew that they woul d
be t oget her again, in anot her time and anot her place.
Elizabeth, who did not know about Joan' s experience,
came to me seeking a similar healing. Woul d she, too,
hnd her bel oved mot her?
Meanwhi l e, in the same office and in the same chair,
separated f r om Elizabeth by only the mi nuscul e gulf of a
tew days, anot her drama was in progress.
28 Brian L. Weiss
Pedro was suffering. His life was bur dened wi t h sadness,
unshared secrets, and hi dden longings.
And t he most i mport ant meet i ng of his life was silently
but rapidly approachi ng.
Chapter 5
And still her grief would not abate.
At last she bore another child, and great
Was the father's joy; and loud his cry: "A Son!"
That day, to thus rejoicehe was the only one.
Dejected and wan the mother lay; her soul was numb. . . .
Then suddenly she cried with anguish wild,
Her thoughts less on the new than on the absent child. . . .
"My angel in his grave, and I not at his side!"
Speaking through the babe now held in her embrace
She hears again the well-known voice adored:
"Tis I,but do not tell!" He gazes at her face.
VI C T OR H U G O
cv^edro is an ext raordi nanl y handsome Mexi can man,
more fair t han I had anticipated, wi t h sandy br own hair
and wonder f ul bl ue eyes that at times seem almost green.
His charm and easy wi t hid the grief he was feeling at
the death of his brot her, who had died ten mont hs pr e-
viously in a terrible aut omobi l e accident in Mexi co City.
Many peopl e suffering f r om acute grief reactions come
to see me, hopi ng to understand mor e about death or
even to encount er their deceased l oved ones again. The
meeting mi ght occur in a past lifetime. It mi ght occur
m the spiritual state f ound i n- bet ween lifetimes. Or the
reunion mi ght take place in a mystical setting, beyond
the contines of t he physical body and physical geography.
Whet her the spiritual meetings are real or imaginary.
29
30 Brian L. Weiss
they possess a power that is vividly felt by the patient.
Lives are changed.
The delicate and oft en detailed recall of past lifetimes
is not a wi sh fulfillment. Images are not merely conj ured
up because a patient needs t hem or because they mi ght
make hi m feel better. What is r emember ed is what has
happened.
The specificity and accuracy of r emember ed details,
t he dept h of emot i on displayed, t he resolution of clinical
sympt oms, and t he life-transforming power of the me mo-
ries all poi nt t o t he reality of the recall.
The unusual aspect of Pedro' s story was the ten mont hs
that had elapsed since his brot her' s deat h. By this time,
grief is generally resolving. The l ong t i me span of Pedro' s
grief suggested an underlying, even deeper despair.
His sadness actually ext ended far beyond his brot her' s
death. We woul d learn in subsequent sessions that he had
been separated f r om his loved ones over many lifetimes,
and he was acutely sensitized to t he loss of a love. The
sudden deat h of his brot her remi nded hi m, in the deepest
unconsci ous recesses of his mi nd, of losses even greater,
even mor e tragic, over millennia.
In psychiatric t heory, each loss we experience stirs
repressed or forgot t en feelings and memor i es of previous
losses. Ou r grief is magni fi ed by t he cumul at i ve grief of
earlier losses.
In my research wi t h past lives, I was fi ndi ng that t he
arena in whi ch these losses occur needs t o be enlarged.
We cannot go back only to chi l dhood. Earlier, past-life
losses need t o be i ncl uded. Some of our most tragic losses
and our most pr of ound grief happened before we wer e
born.
Only Love Is Real
31
Before anyt hi ng, I needed t o know mor e about Pedro' s
life. I needed landmarks to navigate the flow of fut ure
sessions.
'Tell me about yourself, " I asked. " Your childhood,
your family, and what ever else you feel is i mport ant . Tell
me everything you think I should know. "
Pedro sighed deeply and sank back i nt o the large, soft
chair. He l oosened his tie and unbut t oned the top but t on
of his shirt. His body language told me this woul d not
be easy for hi m.
Pedro came f r om a very privileged family, both fi nan-
cially and politically. Hi s father owned a large business
and several factories. They lived in t he hills above the city,
in a spectacular house wi t hi n a secure, gated communi t y.
Pedro had at t ended t he finest private schools in the
city. He had studied English since t he early grades, and
after living in Mi ami for several years, his English was
excellent. He was the youngest of t hree children. His
sister was the oldest child, and even t hough she was four
years older t han he, Pedro was ext remel y protective of
her. His br ot her was t wo years older and very close t o
Pedro.
Pedro' s father wor ked very hard and usually di dn' t
come home until late at night. His mot her and t he nannies,
maids, and ot her staff ran the house and cared for t he
children.
Pedro studied business in college. He had several girl-
friends, but no serious relationship.
" Somehow my mot her was never very fond of the
girls I dat ed, " Pedr o added. "She always f ound some
particular fault and never let me forget . "
At this poi nt , Pedro l ooked around uncomfort abl y.
32 Brian L. Weiss
" What is it?" I inquired.
He di dn' t respond immediately, swallowing several
times before begi nni ng.
"I had an affair wi t h an ol der wo ma n dur i ng my last
year at t he uni ver si t y, " he sl owl y t ol d me. " She was
ol der . . . and mar r i ed. " Pedr o paused.
" Oka y, " I responded after a f ew moment s, mostly to
fill the silence. I coul d feel his di scomfort , and despite
many years of experience, I still di dn' t like t he feeling.
" Di d her husband fi nd out ?"
" No , " he answered, " he di dn' t . "
"Thi ngs coul d have been wor se, " I poi nt ed out, stating
the obvious, t ryi ng t o comfort hi m.
" Ther e is mor e, " he added omi nousl y.
I nodded, wai t i ng for Pedro t o fill me in.
"She became pregnant . . . . Ther e was an abortion.
My parents don' t know about this. " Hi s eyes were cast
downwar d. He was still ashamed and feeling guilty, years
after t he affair and t he abortion.
"I under st and, " I began. " Ca n I tell you what I have
learned about abort i ons?" I asked hi m.
He nodded his assent. He knew about my research into
hypnosis and past lives.
" An abort i on, or a miscarriage, usually involves an
agreement bet ween the mot her and t he soul that woul d
ent er t he baby. Ei t her the baby' s body woul d not be
healthy enough t o carry out its pl anned tasks in the comi ng
life, " I cont i nued, " or t he t i mi ng was not right for its
purposes, or t he outside situation had changed, such as
the desertion of the father when t he baby' s or mot her' s
plans requi red a father figure. Do you underst and?"
"Yes, " he nodded, but he di dn' t l ook convi nced. I
knew that his st rong Catholic backgr ound mi ght make
Only Love Is Real
33
the resolution of his guilt and shame mor e difficult. Some-
times our old, fixed beliefs interfere wi t h the acquisition
of new knowl edge.
I went back t o the basics.
"1 will tell you only about my own research, " I
explained, "not about what I have read or heard about
from others. Thi s i nformat i on comes f r om my patients,
usually when t hey are deeply hypnot i zed. Somet i mes the
words are theirs, and somet i mes t hey seem to be comi ng
from anot her, hi gher source. "
Pedro nodded his head again, not speaking.
" My patients tell me that the soul does not enter the
body right away. Ar ound the t i me of concept i on, a reser-
vation is made by t he soul. No ot her soul can have that
body. The soul who has reserved that particular baby' s
body can t hen come i nt o and out of t he body, as it wishes.
It is not confi ned. Thi s is similar t o peopl e in comas, " I
added.
Pedro nodded in understanding, still not speaking but
listening intently.
"Dur i ng pregnancy, the soul is gradually mor e and
more attached t o t he baby' s body, " I went on, "but the
attachment is not compl et e until around t he t i me of bi r t h,
either shortly before, during, or just aft erward. "
I emphasized this concept by j oi ni ng my hands at the
base of my palms, f or mi ng a ni net y-degree angle. Then
I slowly closed my hands so that the rest of my palms
and my fingers met , like the universal hand symbol for
prayer, denot i ng t he gradual at t achment of the soul to
the body.
"You can never har m or kill a soul , " I added. " The
soul is i mmort al and indestructible. It will find a way to
return, if that is t he pl an. "
34 Brian L. Weiss
" Wha t do you mean?" Pedro asked.
"I have had cases wher e the same soul, after a miscar-
riage or abort i on, comes back t o the same parents in their
next baby. "
"Incredi bl e!" Pedro responded. Hi s face appeared
brighter now, not so guilty or embarrassed.
" You never know, " I added.
Aft er a f ew moment s of cont empl at i on, Pedro sighed
again and crossed his legs, adjusting his pants. We had
shifted back i nt o the history-taking mode.
" What happened after t hat ?" I asked.
"Af t er graduat i on, I went back home. At first I wor ked
in t he factories, learning mor e about the business. Later
on I came t o Mi ami to r un t he business here and abroad.
I' ve been here since, " he explained.
" Ho w is t he business goi ng?"
"Ver y well, but it occupies t oo much of my t i me. "
"Is that a bi g pr obl em?"
"It doesn' t help my love life, " Pedro said, grinning.
He was not entirely j oki ng. No w t went y- ni ne years old,
he felt that he was racing past t he t i me t o fi nd love, marry,
and start a family. Raci ng, but no prospects.
"Are you havi ng relationships wi t h women?"
"Yes, " he answered, "but not hi ng special. I haven' t
really fallen in love. . . . I hope I can, " he added wi t h
some concer n in his voice. "I will very soon have t o
ret urn t o Mexi co and live t here, " Pedr o mused, "i n order
to take over my brot her' s duties. Perhaps I will meet
someone t her e, " he comment ed wi t hout convi ct i on.
I wonder ed if his mot her' s criticisms of Pedro' s girl-
friends and t he experi ence of the affair and the abortion
were psychological obstacles to a l ovi ng and intimate
Only Love Is Real
35
relationship. We woul d l ook at those issues later, I
thought.
"And how is your family in Mexi co?" I asked, light-
ening the mood whi l e cont i nui ng t o collect i nformat i on.
"They are well. My father is mor e t han seventy now,
so my brot her and I " Pedro st opped abruptly. He
swallowed and t ook a deep breath before resuming. "So
I have mor e responsibility in the business, " he concl uded
in a quiet voice.
" My mot her is also wel l . " He paused before amendi ng
his answer. "But t hey are bot h not copi ng well with the
death. It has taken a great deal out of t hem. They have
grown much ol der. "
"And your sister?"
"She is sad also, but she has her husband and her
children, " Pedro explained.
I nodded my head in understanding. She had more
distractions to help her cope.
Pedro was in excellent physical health. His only com-
plaint was of i nt ermi t t ent pain in his neck and left shoul-
der, but this pr obl em had been present for a very l ong
time, and doctors had not f ound anyt hi ng unusual.
"I' ve learned t o live wi t h i t , " Pedro told me.
I became aware of time. Looki ng at my wat ch, I saw
that we had run t went y mi nut es late. My internal alarm
clock was usually much mor e reliable.
I must have been really absorbed in the drama of Pedro' s
story, I rationalized silently, unaware that even mor e
absorbing dramas were only now begi nni ng to unfold.
The Vietnamese Buddhist monk and philosopher,
Thich Nhat Hanh, writes about enj oyi ng a good cup of
36 Brian L. Weiss
tea. You must be completely awake in the present t o
enj oy t he tea. Onl y in the awareness of the present can
your hands feel the pleasant war mt h of t he cup. Onl y in
the present can you savor t he aroma, taste the sweetness,
appreciate t he delicacy. If you are r umi nat i ng about the
past or wor r yi ng about t he fut ure, you will completely
miss t he experi ence of enj oyi ng t he cup of tea. You will
l ook down at t he cup, and t he tea will be gone.
Life is like that. If you are not fully in the present, you
will l ook ar ound and it will be gone. You will have missed
t he feel, t he aroma, the delicacy and beaut y of life. It will
seem t o be speeding past you.
The past is finished. Learn f r om it and let it go. The
fut ure is not even here yet. Plan for it, but do not waste
your t i me wor r yi ng about it. Wor r yi ng is worthless.
Whe n you stop rumi nat i ng about what has already hap-
pened, whe n you stop wor r yi ng about what mi ght never
happen, t hen you will be in t he present moment . Then
you will begi n to experi ence j oy in life.
Chapter 6
I hold that when a person dies
His Soul returns again to earth;
Arrayed in some new flesh-disguise,
Another mother gives him birth.
With sturdier limbs and brighter brain
The old soul takes the road again.
J O H N MASEFI ELD
cV edro ret urned t o the office one week later for his
second appoi nt ment . Grief still t or ment ed hi m, robbi ng
him of simple pleasures and interfering wi t h his sleep. He
began by telling me about an unusual dream he had dreamt
twice in t he past week.
"I was dreami ng about somet hi ng else when all of a
sudden an older woman appeared, " Pedr o explained.
"Di d you recogni ze the woman?" I asked.
" No , " he answered immediately. "She appeared to be
in her sixties or seventies. She wor e a beautiful whi t e
dress, but she was not at peace. Her face was anguished.
She reached out to me, and she kept repeat i ng the same
words. "
"What did she say?"
' Hol d her hand. . . . Hol d her hand. You will know.
Reach out to her. Hol d her hand. ' That is what she said."
Hol d whose hand?"
I don' t know. She j ust said ' Hol d her hand. ' "
37
38 Brian L. Weiss
" Was t here anyt hi ng mor e in t he dream?"
" No t really. But I did not i ce that she was hol di ng a
whi t e feather in one hand. "
" Wha t does that mean?" I asked.
" You' r e the doct or , " Pedro r emi nded me.
Yes, I t hought . I ' m the doct or. I knew that symbols
coul d mean almost anything, dependi ng on the uni que
expenences of the dreamer as well as t he universal arche-
types described by Carl J ung or t he popul ar symbols of
Si gmund Freud.
Thi s dream, somehow, did not feel Freudian.
I responded to the " You' r e the doct or " comment and
its implied need to be answered.
" I ' m not sure, " I answered t rut hful l y. "It could mean
a lot of things. The whi t e feather coul d symbolize peace
or a spiritual state or many ot her things. We will have to
expl ore t he dr eam, " I added, relegating its interpretation
to t he fut ure.
"I had t he dream again last ni ght , " Pedro said.
"Same woman?"
"Same woman, same words, same feat her, " Pedro clari-
fied. " ' Hol d her hand. . . . Hol d her hand. Reach out to
her. Hol d her hand. ' "
"Perhaps the answers will come duri ng the regres-
sions, " I suggested. "Are you ready?"
He nodded, and we began. I already knew that Pedro
could reach a deep level of hypnosis because I had checked
his eyes.
The ability t o roll the eyes upward, trying to l ook at
t he t op of the head, and t hen to allow the eyelids t o
slowly flutter down while keepi ng the eyes gazing upward
is highly correlated wi t h the ability to be deeply hypno-
tized.
Only Love Is Real 39
I measure how much of t he sclera, or whi t e part of
the eye, is showi ng when t he eye reaches its apex. I also
observe how much whi t e is showi ng whi l e the eyelids
slowly close. The mor e whi t e showi ng, t he deeper the
person can go.
Pedro' s eyes had nearly disappeared i nt o his head when
I tested hi m. Onl y t he tiniest part of t he bot t om ri m of
his iris, t he col ored part of t he eye, remai ned. As his
eyelids fluttered closed, t he iris did not descend at all. He
could reach a deep trance state.
I was mildly surprised, t hen, whe n Pedr o f ound it
difficult t o relax. Since t he eye-roll test measured the
physical ability t o relax deeply and t o reach pr of ound levels
of hypnosis, I knew his mi nd was interfering. Somet i mes
patients who are used t o bei ng in cont rol have some initial
reluctance t o j ust let go.
"Just rel ax, " I advised hi m. " Don' t wor r y about what
comes i nt o your mi nd. It doesn' t mat t er if you experience
anything t oday or not . Thi s is pract i ce, " I added, trying to
remove any pressure he was feeling. I knew he desperately
want ed t o fi nd his brot her.
As I talked, Pedr o relaxed mor e and mor e. He began
to ent er a deeper level. His breat hi ng slowed, and his
muscles soft ened. He appeared t o sink even deeper into
the whi t e leather recliner. His eyes moved slowly under
his closed eyelids as he began to visualize images.
I t ook hi m slowly back in t i me.
"At first, j ust go back and r emember t he last pleasant
meal that you have eaten. Use all of your senses. Re me m-
ber compl et el y. See who was t here wi t h you. Re me mbe r
your feelings, " I instructed.
He did this, but he r emember ed several meals, not just
ne. He was still trying to maintain control.
40 Brian L. Weiss
" Rel ax even deeper, " I urged. "Hypnosi s is only a
f or m of f ocus ed concent rat i on. You never give up control.
You are always in charge. All hypnosis is self-hypnosis."
His breat hi ng deepened even mor e.
" You are always in cont rol , " I told hi m. "If you ever
get anxi ous whi l e having a memor y or experience, you
can j ust float above it and wat ch f r om a distance, like
wat chi ng a movi e. Or you can leave t he scene entirely
and go anywher e you want , visualize t he beach, or your
house, or any ot her safe place for you. If you' re very
uncomfort abl e, you can even open your eyes and you' l l
be awake and alert back here, if you wi sh.
"Thi s is not Star Trek," I added. " You don' t get beamed
anywhere. These are only memori es, like any ot her me m-
ories, j ust like you r emember ed t he pleasant meals. You
are always in cont r ol . "
No w he let go. I t ook hi m back t o his chi l dhood and
Pedro smiled broadly.
"I can see t he dogs and horses on t he farm, " he told
me. His family owned a farm a f ew hours outside t he
city, and many happy weekends and vacations were spent
there.
The family was t oget her. His br ot her was alive, vibrant,
laughing. I remai ned silent for a f ew moment s, letting
Pedro enj oy mor e of this chi l dhood memor y.
"Ar e you ready to go even furt her back?" I asked.
"Yes. "
" Good. Let us see if you can r emember anyt hi ng f r om
a past l i fe. " I count ed backward f r om five t o one as Pedro
visualized himself walking t hr ough a magni fi cent door
into anot her t i me and anot her place, into a past lifetime.
As soon as I reached the number one, I saw his eyes
Only Love Is Real
41
fluttering wildly. He was instantly alarmed. He started to
sob.
"It' s terrible . . . terrible!" He gasped. "They' r e all
killed. . . They' r e all dead. " The remains of bodies were
strewn everywhere. Fire had destroyed t he village, wi t h
its odd r ounded tents. Onl y one tent remai ned intact,
standing i ncongruousl y on t he peri phery of t he carnage
and destruction. Its col ored flags and large whi t e feathers
fluttered wildly in t he cold sunlight.
The horses, t he cattle, and the oxen wer e gone. It was
apparent that nobody had survived this massacre. The
"cowards" f r om t he east had done this.
" No wall, no warlords will prot ect t hem f r om me, "
Pedro vowed. Revenge woul d have t o come later. He
was numbed, hopeless, devastated.
I have l earned over t he years that peopl e in their first
regression of t en gravitate t o the most traumatic event in
a lifetime. Thi s occurs because t he emot i on of the trauma
is so strongly impressed upon their psyches and carried
by the soul i nt o f ut ur e incarnations.
I want ed to know mor e. What preceded this horrific
experience? What happened afterward?
" Go back in t i me wi t hi n that l i fet i me, " I urged. " Go
back t o happi er times. What do you r emember ?"
" Ther e are many yurts . . . tents. We are a powerful
peopl e, " he answered. "I am happy her e. " Pedro
described a nomadi c peopl e who hunt ed and raised cattle.
His parents wer e leaders, and he was a st rong and skilled
horseman and hunt er .
" The horses are very swift. They are small wi t h large
tails," he said.
He marri ed t he most beautiful girl of his people, one
42 Brian L. Weiss
wi t h wh o m he had played as a child and whom he had
loved as l ong as he could r emember . He could have
marri ed the daught er of a nei ghbor i ng chief, but he mar -
ried for love.
" Wha t is t he name of this l and?" I asked.
He hesitated. "I think you call it Mongol i a "
I knew that Mongolia probably had a very different
name when Pedro was there. The language was completely
different. So how could Pedro, speaking f r om that time,
know the wor d Mongolia? Because he was remembering,
his memori es were being filtered t hrough his present-day
mind.
The process is similar to wat chi ng a movi e. The pres-
ent -day mi nd is very much aware, wat chi ng and com-
ment i ng. The mi nd compares the movi e' s characters and
t hemes wi t h those of the current life. The patient is the
movi e' s observer, its critic, and its star, all at the same
time. The patient is able to use his present -day knowl edge
of history and geography to help date and locate places
and events. Thr oughout the movi e he can remain in t he
deeply hypnot i zed state.
Pedro coul d vividly r emember the Mongol i a that
existed many centuries ago, yet he coul d speak English
and answer my questions whi l e rememberi ng.
" Do you know your name?"
Again, he hesitated. " No, it does not come to me. "
Ther e was little else. He had a child, and the birth was
a great happiness not only to Pedr o and his wife but also
to his parents and the rest of the peopl e. His wife' s parents
had bot h died several years bef or e the marriage, so she
was not only a wife to hi m but also a daught er to his
parents.
Only Love Is Real 43
Pedro was exhausted. He did not want to return to
the devastated village to once again conf r ont the remains
of his shattered life so I awakened hi m.
When a memor y f r om a past life is traumatic and over-
flowing wi t h emot i on, it can be very useful to go back
a second time, and perhaps a third. At each repetition the
negative emot i on is lessened and t he patient remembers
even more. He also learns more, as the emot i onal blocks
and distractions are diminished. I knew Pedro had mor e
to learn from this ancient life.
Pedro was giving himself anot her t wo or three mont hs
to resolve his personal and business affairs in Miami. We
still had plenty of t i me to explore t he Mongol i an lifetime
111 more detail. We had time t o explore ot her lifetimes
as well. We had not yet f ound his brot her. Instead he
had f ound anot her devastating series of losses: bel oved
wife, child, parents, communi t y.
Was I helping hi m or was 1 addi ng even more to his
burden? Onl y time woul d tell.
After one of my workshops, a participant told me a
marvelous story.
From t he t i me she was a little girl, if she let her hand
hang over the side of her bed, anot her hand woul d l ov-
ingly take hers, and she woul d be reassured no mat t er
how anxious she was feeling. Of t ent i mes whe n her hand
accidentally went over the bedside and t he grasp surprised
her, she woul d reflexively j erk back her hand, and this
always broke t he embrace.
She always knew when to reach for the hand and to
feel comfort ed. Ther e was, of course, no physical form
under her bed.
44 Brian L. Weiss
As she gr ew older, the hand remai ned. She marri ed
but never told her husband about this experience because
it seemed so childlike.
Wh e n she became pregnant wi t h her first child, t he
hand disappeared. She missed her l ovi ng and familiar com-
pani on. Ther e was no hand t o take hers in that same
l ovi ng way.
Her baby was born, a beaut i ful daught er. A little whi l e
after t he bi rt h, whi l e lying in bed t oget her, t he baby t ook
her hand. A sudden and power f ul recogni t i on of that old
familiar feeling flooded her mi nd and her body.
Her pr ot ect or had ret urned. She cried wi t h happiness
and felt a great surge of l ove and a connect i on that she
knew existed far beyond the physical.
, 7
Wert thou that just Maid who once before
Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth,
And cam'st again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet smiling Youth? . . .
Or any other of that heavenly brood
Let down in cloudy throne to do the world good?
Or wert thou of the golden-winged host,
Who, having clad thyself in human weed,
To earth from thy prefixed seat didst post
And after short abode fly back with speed
As if to show what creatures heaven doth breed;
Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire,
To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heaven aspire?
J O H N MI LTON
qp
El i zabet h seemed less depressed as she ent ered my office
for her third appoi nt ment . Her eyes were brighter.
"I feel l i ght er, " she told me. "I feel freer. . . . " Her
brief recollection of herself as t he young boy swept off
the boat had begun to sweep away some of her fears. Not
just the fears of wat er or of the dark, but also deeper and
more basic fears, fears of death and ext i nct i on.
She had died as that boy, and yet here she was again,
as Elizabeth. At a subconscious level, her grief mi ght have
been lessening because of the knowl edge that she had
lived before and woul d live again, that death was not
final.
45
46 Brian L. Weiss
And if she coul d spring back again, r enewed and
refreshed, in a new body, t hen so coul d her loved ones.
So can we all, reborn t o deal once mor e with t he j oys
and hardships, wi t h the t ri umphs and tragedies of life on
earth.
Elizabeth quickly went i nt o a deep hypnot i c trance.
Wi t hi n a f ew mi nut es, her eyes wer e sweepi ng f r om side
to side under her closed lids as she scanned an ancient
vista.
" The sand is beaut i ful , " she began, recalling a life as a
Nat i ve Ameri can in the Sout h, probabl y on the west coast
of Florida. "It ' s so whi t e . . . almost pi nk at times. . . .
It's so fine, like sugar. " She paused for a moment . " Th e
sun sets over t he bi g sea. To t he east are large swamps,
wi t h many birds and animals. Ther e are lots of small
islands bet ween t he swamps and t he sea. The waters are
filled wi t h good fish. We catch t he fish, in the rivers and
bet ween t he islands." She paused again, t hen cont i nued.
" We are at peace. My life is very happy. My family is
large; I seem t o be related to many in the village. I know
about roots, plants, and herbs. . . . I can make medicines
f r om plants. . . . I know about heal i ng. "
In Nat i ve Ameri can cultures t here was no penalty for
using healing pot i ons or for ot her holistic practices. Instead
of bei ng called witches and dr owned or burned at the
stake, healers wer e respected and oft en revered.
I t ook her forward in that lifetime, but no traumas
emerged. Her life was peaceful and satisfying. She died
of old age, surrounded by the entire village.
" Ther e is very little sadness wi t h my deat h, " she not ed
after floating above her wi t hered old body and surveying
the scene bel ow, "even t hough all of my village seem t o
be t here. "
Only Love Is Real 47
She was not at all upset by the lack of grieving. Ther e
was great respect and caring for her, for her body and
her soul. Onl y t he sadness was missing.
" We do not mour n deaths because we know that the
spirit is eternal. It returns in human f or m again if its wor k
is not fi ni shed, " she explained. "Somet i mes by carefully
exami ni ng t he new body, t he identity of the previous
body can be known. " She ponder ed this concept for a
few moment s. " We l ook for bi rt hmarks wher e scars used
to be and for ot her signs," she elaborated.
"Similarly, we do not celebrate births so much . . .
even t hough it may be good t o see t he spirit again." She
paused, perhaps searching for t he wor ds to describe this
concept.
"Al t hough the earth is very beautiful and continually
demonstrates t he har mony and i nt erconnect edness of all
things . . . whi ch is a great lesson . . . life is much harder
here Wi t h the greater spirit t here is no disease, no pain,
no separation. . . . Ther e is no ambi t i on, no compet i t i on,
no hatred, no fear, no enemy. . . . Ther e is only peace
and harmony. So the smaller spirit, ret urni ng, cannot be
happy to leave such a place. It woul d be wr ong for us t o
celebrate when t he spirit is saddened. It woul d be very
selfish and unfeel i ng, " she concl uded.
"Thi s does not mean that we do not wel come the
ret urni ng spirit," she quickly added. "It is i mport ant to
demonst rat e our love and affection at this vulnerable
t i me. "
Havi ng explained this fascinating concept of death
wi t hout sadness and bi rt h wi t hout celebration, she was
silent, resting.
Here again was the concept of reincarnation and the
reuni on in physical f or m of past-life family, friends, and
48 Brian L. Weiss
lovers. In all times and in diverse cultures t hr oughout
history, this concept has appeared seemingly i ndepen-
dently.
The di m memor y of that ancient life mi ght have hel ped
t o pull her back again t o Florida, r emi ndi ng her at the
deepest levels of an ancestral home. Perhaps the feeling
of sand and sea, of palms and of mangr ove swamps called
t o her soul memor y, hel pi ng t o lure her back wi t h a
subconscious seduct i on. For that life had been most pleas-
ant and filled wi t h satisfactions not present in her current
life.
These ancient stirrings mi ght have led her to apply t o
the University of Mi ami , whi ch led t o her scholarship
and her move t o Mi ami . This is not coi nci dence. Dest i ny
requi red her t o be here.
"Ar e you tired?" I asked, ret urni ng my attention t o
Elizabeth, who was still resting peacefully on the recliner.
" No , " she answered quietly.
" Do you want t o explore anot her lifetime?"
"Yes. " Mor e quiet.
Onc e again we traveled back t hr ough time, and once
again she emer ged in an ancient land.
"Thi s is a desolate l and, " Elizabeth observed after she
had scanned t he scene. " Ther e are high mount ai ns . . .
dusty dirt roads . . . t he traders pass on these roads. . . .
Thi s is a rout e for traders goi ng east and west. . . . "
" Do you know the count ry?" I asked, l ooki ng for
details.
I did not like to i nt rude wi t h t oo many questions for
the logical, or left-brain, part of t he mi nd. Such questions
could interfere wi t h the i mmedi acy of t he experience,
whi ch is mor e a right-brain, or intuitive, funct i on. But
Only Love Is Real 49
Elizabeth was in a profoundl y deep state. She could answer
the questions and yet cont i nue t o vividly experience this
scene. Details wer e i mport ant , t oo.
"Indi a . . . I t hi nk, " she answered hesitantly. "Maybe
just west of that . . . I don' t t hi nk t he borders are that
clear. We live in t he mount ai ns, and t here are passes the
traders must go t hr ough, " she added, ret urni ng to t he
scene.
" Do you see yoursel f?" I asked.
"Yes . . . I ' m a gi r l . . . about fifteen. My skin is darker,
and I have black hair. My clothes are dirty. I wor k in the
stables . . . t endi ng t o t he horses and mules. . . . We are
very poor. The weat her is so cold; my hands are so cold
wor ki ng her e. " Her face grimacing, Elizabeth made fists
with bot h hands.
Thi s young girl was innately bri ght but uneducat ed.
Life was grindingly difficult. Traders frequent l y abused
her, somet i mes leaving a little money. Her family was
unable to prot ect her. Numbi ng cold and constant hunger
plagued her life. Ther e was only one bri ght spot in that
young girl's life.
"Ther e' s a young trader who comes by oft en wi t h his
father and t he others. He loves me, and I love hi m. He
is f unny and gentle, and we laugh a lot t oget her. I wish
he coul d j ust stay so we can be t oget her all the t i me. "
Thi s was not t o be. She died at t he age of sixteen. Her
body, already wor n out because of t he bitter life and
elements, quickly succumbed t o pneumoni a. Her family
was ar ound her when she died.
As we revi ewed this brief life, Elizabeth was not sad.
She had learned an i mport ant lesson.
"Love is t he strongest force in t he worl d, ' ' she said
50 Brian L. Weiss
softly. "Love can gr ow and bl oom even in frozen soil
and in t he harshest conditions. It exists everywhere, and all
t he t i me. Love is a flower for all the seasons."
Her face was filled wi t h a beaut i ful smile.
A pat i ent of mi ne, a Cat hol i c at t orney, had just finished
recalling a Eur opean lifetime in t he late Mi ddl e Ages. He
had r emember ed his death in that lifetime, a lifetime filled
wi t h greed, violence, and deceit. He was cognizant that
some of these traits had persisted into his current life.
No w, reclining in the soft leather chair in my office,
he was aware of floating out of his body in that medieval
lifetime. Suddenl y he f ound himself standing in a hell-
like envi r onment , amidst fires and devils. This surprised
me. Al t hough I had encount er ed thousands of past-life
deaths in my patients, no one had ever had an experi ence
wi t h hell. Al most invariably peopl e fi nd themselves drawn
to an indescribably beautiful light, a light that renews and
reenergizes t he spirit. But hell?
I wai t ed for somet hi ng t o happen, but he report ed that
nobody paid any attention to hi m. He was waiting, t oo.
Mi nut es passed. Finally a spiritual figure, whom he i dent i -
fied as Jesus, appeared and wal ked over t o hi m. This was
the first bei ng who even not i ced hi m.
" Don' t you realize that this is all illusion?" Jesus said
to hi m. " Onl y love is real!"
And t hen t he fires and the devils instantly disappeared,
revealing the beautiful light that had been there, unseen,
behi nd t he illusion.
Somet i mes you get what you expect, but it may not
be real.
(ohapter 8
It is the secret of the world that all things subsist and
do not die, but only retire a little from sight and
afterwards return again. Nothing is dead; men feign
themselves dead, and endure mock funerals and
mournful obituaries, and there they stand looking out
of the window, sound and well, in some new strange
disguise.
RALPH WAL DO EMERSON
c
(
^ o t h Pedro and I needed to learn mor e about the sources
of his underl yi ng despair, whi ch had been deepened even
more by his brot her' s tragic death. We needed to under -
stand mor e about t he superficiality of his relationships.
Wer e his mot her ' s constant criticisms of his girlfriends
and the guilt of the abortion bl ocki ng his love? Or had
he just not yet met the right woman?
The regression process is like drilling for oil. You never
quite know wher e t he oil is, but t he deeper you go the
better your chance of striking it.
Today we wer e goi ng deeper.
Pedro had only recently begun t o r emember his past
lives. Frequent l y in the begi nni ng, lifetimes are ent ered
at their most traumatic points. This happened again.
"I m a soldier . . . English, I t hi nk, " Pedro observed.
Many of us are brought in by ship to capture the enemy' s
fortress. It's huge, wi t h high and very deep walls. They' ve
51
52 Brian L. Weiss
filled t he harbor wi t h large rocks. We must find anot her
way i n. " He became silent as t he invasion was delayed.
" Go ahead in t i me, " I suggested. "See what happens
next . " I t apped hi m three times on his forehead in order
to focus his at t ent i on and help hi m bridge the gap in
time.
" We have over come the rocks, and we have breached
the f or t , " he answered. He began to grunt and to sweat.
"Little tunnels . . . we are r unni ng t hr ough t hem, but we
don' t know wher e we are going. . . . The tunnels are
narrow and l ow. We must go single file and bend over
as we r un. "
Pedro began to sweat profusely. He was breat hi ng very
rapidly, and he seemed ext remel y upset.
"1 see a tiny doorway ahead. . . . We are r unni ng
t hr ough this door.
" Ugh! " he wi nced suddenly. " Th e Spanish are on the
ot her side of the door. They' r e killing us as we come
t hrough, one at a time. . . . They have stuck me wi t h a
sword!" He gasped, hol di ng his neck. His breat hi ng
became even mor e rapid. He was now gasping for air,
and sweat was pour i ng f r om his face, drenchi ng his shirt.
Suddenl y his movement s ceased. His breat hi ng became
regular, and he was calm. As I dried his forehead and face
wi t h a tissue, t he sweating began t o diminish.
" I ' m floating above my body, " Pedro announced. "I
have left that life . . . so many bodies . . . so much bl ood
bel ow . . . but I ' m above that now. " He floated in silence
for a f ew moment s.
" Re vi e w that lifetime, " I instructed. " What did you
learn? What wer e the lessons?"
He ponder ed these questions f r om a hi gher perspective.
"I learned that violence is a pr of ound ignorance. I died
Only Love Is Real 53
senselessly far away f r om my home and loved ones. I
died because of the greed of others. The English and the
Spanish wer e bot h stupid, killing each ot her for gold in
faraway lands. Stealing gold f r om t he others and killing
themselves for it. Greed and violence killed these peo-
ple . . . They had all forgot t en about l ove. "
He grew silent again. I decided t o let hi m rest and
digest these incredible lessons. I, t oo, began to cont em-
plate Pedro' s lessons. Over the centuries since Pedro' s
senseless death in a fortress far r emoved f r om his English
home, gold has changed to dollars and pounds and yen
and pesos, but we are still killing each ot her for it. Indeed,
this has been goi ng on t hr oughout history. Ho w very
little we have learned over the centuries. Ho w much
more do we need t o suffer before we once again r emember
about love?
Pedro' s head began movi ng f r om side to side on the
chair. He had an amused smile on his face. He had sponta-
neously ent ered anot her, much mor e recent lifetime.
Once Pedro began t o r emember lifetimes, his visual expe-
riences were particularly vivid.
" What are you experi enci ng?" I asked.
"I ' m a woma n, " he observed. " I ' m qui t e beautiful.
My hair is l ong and bl onde . . . my skin is very pale. "
With large blue eyes and elegant clothes, Pedro was a
prostitute much in demand in pos t - Wor l d War I Ger -
many. Al t hough t he count ry was besieged by runaway
inflation, the rich still had money for her services.
Pedro had some difficulty r emember i ng the name of
this elegant woman. "Magda, I bel i eve, " he uttered. I
did not want t o distract hi m f r om his visual appraisal.
I' m very successful in this business," Magda said
proudly. " I ' m a confi dant e to politicians, military leaders,
54 Brian L. Weiss
and very i mport ant busi nessmen. " She seemed a bit vain
as she r emember ed even mor e.
" The y are all obsessed wi t h my beauty and my skill,"
she added. "I always know j ust what to do. " Magda
possessed an excellent singing voice and oft en performed
at elegant soirees. She learned to manipulate men.
Probabl y f r om all her lifetimes as a man, I t hought but
did not say.
The n Pedro' s voice l owered to a whisper. "I influence
these peopl e. . . . I can get t hem to change decisions. . . .
They do it for me, " she said, impressed with her status
and ability t o i nfl uence these power f ul men.
"I usually know mor e t han t hey do, " she went on
somewhat ruefully. "I teach them about politics!" Magda
enj oyed power and political intrigue. Her political power,
however , was indirect; it always had to be mediated
t hr ough men, and this frustrated her. In a fut ure life,
Pedro woul d need no intermediaries.
On e young man in particular stood apart f r om the rest.
" He is mor e intelligent and serious than the ot hers, "
Magda observed. "Hi s hair is br own, and his eyes are
very blue. . . . He is passionate in everyt hi ng he does! We
spend many hours just talking. I believe we love each
ot her, t oo. " She did not recognize this man as anyone
in her current life.
Pedro l ooked sad, and a tear f or med in the corner of
his left eye.
"I left hi m for anot her . . . an older, mor e powerful
and weal t hy man who want ed me exclusively. . . . I di dn' t
fol l ow my heart. I made a terrible mistake. He was terribly
hurt by my action. He never forgave me. . . . He di dn' t
underst and. " Magda had sought security and external
Only Love Is Real 55
power, put t i ng these qualities ahead of love, t he real
source of security and strength.
Apparently her decision was one of those that mark a
turning point in life, a fork in the road that, once chosen,
cannot be undone.
Her older lover lost his power as Ger man politics swung
wildly to t he violent new parties, and he abandoned her.
Magda lost track of her passionate younger lover. And
finally her body began to det eri orat e f r om a chroni c sexual
illness, probabl y syphilis. She was depressed and did not
have the will t o resist t he rampagi ng disease.
" Go to t he end of that life, " 1 urged her. "See what
happens t o you, see who is ar ound. "
"I ' m in a cheap bed . . . in a hospital. Thi s is a hospital
for the poor. Ther e are many others there, sick and moan-
ing . . . t he poorest of the poor . Thi s must be a scene
from hell!"
" Do you see yourself?
" My body is grot esque, " Magda answered.
"Are t here doctors and nurses ar ound?"
" They are t her e, " she answered bitterly. " They pay
no at t ent i on t o me. . . . They are not sad at all. They
disapprove of my life and what I have done. They are
punishing me . "
A life of beauty, power, and intrigue had ended on
this l ow not e. She floated above her body, finally free.
"I feel so peaceful now, " she added. "I just want t o
rest."
Pedro was silent in the chair. We woul d review that
li' etime' s lessons anot her t i me. He was exhausted, and I
awakened hi m.
The chroni c pain in Pedro' s neck and left shoulder
56 Brian L. Weiss
gradually disappeared over t he next f ew weeks. His physi -
cians had never f ound the origins of this pain. Of course
they had never considered a mort al sword wound f r om
several centuries ago as the likely cause.
I am const andy amazed by t he short-sightedness of
most people. I have many acquaintances who obsess daily
about their children' s educations: whi ch nursery school
is t he best, private schools versus public schools, whi ch
college-board prep courses are the most effective, how
to maxi mi ze grades and extracurricular activities to give
their children an edge to get into that college, that grad
school, ad i nfi ni t um. Then the same cycle will start wi t h
their grandchildren.
But these peopl e think that this wor l d is frozen in time,
that the fut ure will be a replica of t he present.
If we cont i nue to chop down our forests and destroy
oxygen sources, what will these children breathe in t went y
or thirty years? If we poison our wat er systems and f ood
cycles, what will they eat? If we blindly cont i nue t o
overproduce fluorocarbons and ot her organic wastes and
bl ow holes in t he ozone layer, will they be able t o live
outdoors? If we overheat this planet by some greenhouse
effect and the oceans rise and we flood our coasts and
overstress oceanic and cont i nent al fault lines, wher e will
they live? And the children and grandchildren in Chi na
and Africa and Australia and everywhere else are j ust as
vulnerable because they are all inescapably residents of
this planet. And consider this. If and when you reincar-
nate, you will be one of these children.
So how can we worry so much about SAT tests and
colleges when there may not be a worl d here for our
progeny?
Only Love Is Real 57
Why is everybody so obsessed wi t h living longer? Wh y
squeeze a f ew mor e unhappy years out of the geriatric
end? Why t he preoccupat i on wi t h cholesterol levels, bran
diets, lipid counts, aerobic exercise, and so on?
Doesn' t it make mor e sense t o live j oyousl y now, to
make every day full, to love and be loved, rather t han
worry so much about your physical health in an unknown
future? What if t here is no fut ure? What if death is a
release i nt o bliss?
I am not saying to neglect your body, that it is all right
to smoke or t o drink excessively or to abuse substances
or to be grossly obese. These condi t i ons cause pain, grief,
and disability. Just don' t worry so much about the fut ure.
Find your bliss today.
The i rony is that, given this attitude and living happily
in the present, you probably will live l onger anyway.
Our bodies and our souls are like cars and their drivers.
Always r emember that you are t he driver, not the car.
Don' t identify wi t h the vehicle. The emphasis these days
on prol ongi ng the durat i on of our lives, on living to one
hundred years of age or mor e, is madness. It's like keepi ng
your old Ford goi ng past 200, 000 miles, past 300, 000.
The body of t he car is rusting out , t he transmission has
been rebuilt five times, things are falling off the engine,
and yet you refuse to t urn it in. Meanwhi l e there is a
brand new Cor vet t e waiting for you right around the
corner. All you have to do is gently step out of the old
Ford and slide i nt o the beautiful Corvet t e. The driver,
the soul, never changes. Onl y t he car.
And, by t he way, I think t here mi ght be a Ferrari down
the road for you.
ter 9
far back as I can remember I have unconsciously
referred to the experiences of a previous state of exis-
tence. . . . I have lived in Judea eighteen hundred
years ago, but I never knew that there was such a
one as Christ among my contemporaries. As the stars
looked to me when I was a shepherd in Assyria, they
look to me now a New-Englander.
HE NR Y DAVI D T HORE AU
t ^ w o weeks had elapsed bet ween Elizabeth' s appoi nt -
ment s because she had t o be away on anot her business
trip. Out - of - t own trips wer e not rare for her. The beaut i -
ful smile wi t h whi ch she ended her last session had faded;
the realities and pressures of everyday life had once again
taken their toll.
Yet she was eager to cont i nue t he j our ney back t hrough
time. She had begun to recall i mport ant events and lessons
f r om ot her lifetimes. She had experi enced a gl i mmer of
happiness and of hope. She want ed more.
She rapidly reached a deep trance state.
Elizabeth r emember ed t he stones of Jerusalem wi t h
their distinctive coloring, whi ch woul d change according
to the light of the day and night. At times golden. At
ot her times a tinge of pink or beige. But the golden color
woul d always return. She r emember ed her t own near
Jerusalem wi t h the small dirt and rock roads, the houses,
the inhabitants, their clothing, their customs. Ther e were
58
Only Love Is Real 59
some vineyards and some fig trees, some fields wher e flax
and wheat grew. Wat er came f r om t he well down t he
road. Anci ent oaks and pomegr anat e trees were near the
well. Thi s was a time in Palestine, as it always seemed t o
be, of intense religious and spiritual activity, of new
changes, always the hope and yet t he heaviness, the harsh-
ness of t he days, of eki ng out a living, of bei ng oppressed
by t he invaders f r om Ro me .
She r emember ed her father, named Eli, who wor ked
at home as a pot t er. Usi ng wat er f r om t he well, he created
shapes f r om clay, maki ng bowls, jars, and many ot her
items for his home and for t he villagers, and even some
to sell in Jerusalem. Somet i mes merchant s or others woul d
come t hr ough t he village and buy his j ugs or cookware
or bowls. Elizabeth supplied many mor e descriptions of
the pot t er' s wheel , the r hyt hm of her father' s foot on t he
wheel , and details of life in this small village. Her name
was Mi ri am, and she was a happy girl living in t urbul ent
times. Soon her life woul d be forever changed by t he
spread of that t urbul ence t o her village.
We progressed to the next significant event in- that
lifetime: her father' s premat ure death at the hands of
Roma n soldiers. The Ro ma n soldiers frequently t or -
ment ed t he early Christians who lived in Palestine at that
time. They devised cruel games merel y for their own
amusement . On e of these games accidentally killed Mi r i -
am' s bel oved father.
At first t he soldiers tied Eli around the ankles and
dragged hi m behi nd a horse ri dden by a soldier. Aft er an
endless mi nut e, the horse was st opped. Her father' s body
was battered, but he had survived the ordeal. His terrified
daught er coul d hear the soldiers howl i ng with laughter.
Thev wer e not done wi t h hi m.
60 Brian L. Weiss
Two of the Romans t hen wrapped the free end of t he
rope ar ound their chests and began pranci ng around, as
if they wer e horses. Her father l urched forward, his head
striking a large rock. He was mortally i nj ured.
The soldiers left hi m in t he dusty road.
The senselessness of it all added to her piercing anguish,
added a bitter anger and hopelessness t o her father' s vi ol ent
demise. Thi s was j ust sport to t he soldiers. They had not
even known her father. They had not felt his gentle t ouch
as he t ended t o her mi nor chi l dhood cuts and bruises.
They had not heard his humor as he wor ked over t he
wheel . They had not smelled his hair after he bat hed.
They had not tasted his kisses or felt his hugs. They had
not spent every day of their lives wi t h this gentle, caring
man.
Yet in a few terror-filled mi nut es t hey had snuffed out
a beautiful life and had filled Mi ri am' s remai ni ng years
with a grief that woul d never qui t e heal, wi t h a loss that
woul d never be replaced, wi t h a hol e that could never
be mended. For sport. The senselessness outraged her,
and tears of hatred j oi ned those of her pain.
She rocked back and fort h on t he dusty bl ood-st ai ned
ground, her father' s large head cradled in her lap. He
coul d no l onger speak. Bl ood trickled f r om the corner
of his mout h. She could hear gurgling in his chest every
time he labored t o breathe. Deat h was very close. The
light in his eyes approached dusk, t he end of his day.
"1 love you, fat her, " she softly whi spered to hi m, l ook-
ing sadly i nt o his darkeni ng eyes. "I will always love you. "
Hi s di mmi ng eyes l ooked back and bl i nked in under -
standing as t hey closed for t he last t i me.
She kept rocki ng as the setting sun ended its day. He r
family and the ot her villagers gently t ook his body f r om
Only Love Is Real 61
her so that it coul d be prepared. In her mi nd she could
sail see his eyes. She was sure he underst ood.
As I sat quietly, i mmobi l i zed by the dept h of Elizabeth' s
despair, I not i ced the tape recorder was not runni ng. I
put in a new tape, and the red recordi ng light flashed.
We were recordi ng again.
My mi nd connect ed Elizabeth' s current grief to t he
grief f r om Palestine nearly t wo t housand years ago. Was
this anot her case in whi ch anci ent grief was compoundi ng
current grief? Woul d the experi ence of reincarnation and
knowi ng that t here is life after deat h heal this grief?
I ret urned my at t ent i on t o Elizabeth.
" Move ahead in time. Go ahead to t he next significant
event in that life, " I instructed.
" Ther e is none, " she answered.
" What do you mean?"
" Not hi ng else happens of significance. 1 can look ahead
. . . but not hi ng happens. "
" Not hi ng at all?"
" No, not hi ng, " she repeat ed patiently.
" Do you marry?"
" No, I don' t live very long. I don' t care about living.
I don' t really take care of mysel f. "
Her father' s death had affected her deeply, apparently
leading t o a pr of ound depression and an early death.
"I have left her body, " Elizabeth announced.
" What are you experi enci ng now?"
" I ' m floating. . . . I' m floating. . . . " Her voice trailed
away.
Soon she began to speak again, but the words wer e
not hers. Her voice was deeper and very strong. Elizabeth
could do what Cat heri ne and very few of my ot her
patients coul d do. She could transmit messages and i nfor-
62 Brian L. Weiss
mat i on f r om t he Masters, high-level, nonphysical beings.
My first book is filled wi t h their wi sdom.
I could perceive similar messages when I meditated, but
the words always seemed t o be mor e meaningful when
they came from my patients. I knew that I had to develop
confidence in my own abilities to hear, to receive, and t o
perceive these same concepts from these same sources.
" Re me mbe r , " the voice said. " Re me mbe r that you
are always loved. You are always prot ect ed, and you are
never alone. . . . You also are a bei ng of l i ght , of wi sdom,
of love. And you can never be forgot t en. You can never
be overl ooked or ignored. You are not your body; you
are not your brain, not even your mi nd. You are spirit.
All you have t o do is t o reawaken t o t he memor y, t o
r emember . Spirit has no limits, not t he limit of the physical
body nor of t he reaches of t he intellect or the mi nd.
"As t he vibrational energy of spirit is slowed down
so that mor e dense envi ronment s such as your t hr ee-
dimensional plane can be experi enced, the effect is for
spirit t o be crystallized and t ransformed into denser and
denser bodies. The densest of all is t he physical state. The
vibrational rate is the slowest. Ti me appears faster in this
state because it is inversely related to t he vibrational rate.
As t he vibrational rate is increased, t i me slows down. Thi s
is how t here can be difficulty in choosi ng the right body,
the right t i me of re-ent ry i nt o t he physical state. Because of
the disparity of time, the oppor t uni t y mi ght be missed. . . .
Ther e are many levels of consciousness, many vibrational
states. It is not i mport ant that you know all of these levels.
" The first level of the seven is that whi ch is most
i mport ant t o you. It is i mport ant to experience in t he
first plane rather than t o abstract and intellectualize about
the hi gher planes. Eventually you will have to experi ence
Only Love Is Real 63
t hem all. . . . Your task is t o teach of exper i enceTo
take that whi ch is belief and faith and transform it i nt o
experi ence so that t he learning is compl et e, because expe-
rience transcends belief. Teach t hem to experience.
Re move their fear. Teach t hem t o love and to help one
another. . . . Thi s involves t he free will of others. But t o
reach out wi t h love, t o reach out wi t h compassion, to
help ot herst hi s is what you must do on your plane.
" Humans always think of themselves as the only beings.
This is not t he case. Ther e are many worlds and many
dimensions . . . many, many mor e souls than there are
physical containers. Also, t he soul may split if it wishes
and have mor e t han one experi ence at the same t i me.
This is possible but requires a level of devel opment whi ch
most have not achieved. Eventually t hey will see that like
a pvrami d t here is only one soul. And all experience is
shared simultaneously. But this is not for now.
" Wh e n you l ook into the eyes of anot her, any ot her,
and you see your own soul l ooki ng back at you, t hen
you will know that you have reached anot her level of
consciousness. In this sense rei ncarnat i on does not exist,
tor all lives and all experiences are simultaneous. But , in
the t hree-di mensi onal worl d, reincarnation is as real as
time or as a mount ai n or as t he oceans. It is an energy
like ot her energies, and its reality depends on the energy
of the perceiver. As l ong as the perceiver perceives a
physical body and solid objects, reincarnation is real t o
that perceiver. The energy consists of light and love and
knowl edge. The application of this knowl edge in a loving
way is wi sdom. . . . Ther e is currently a great lack of
wi sdom on your pl ane. "
Elizabeth stopped speaking. Like Cat heri ne, she could
remember the details of her physical lifetimes but not hi ng
64 Brian L. Weiss
of the messages she delivered f r om t he i n- bet ween- l i f e-
times state. Bot h were in much deeper levels when trans-
mi t t i ng these messages. Very f ew patients go so deep that
amnesia is i nduced. Like Cat heri ne, Elizabeth' s messages
coul d help to correct the "lack of wi s dom" on our plane.
We woul d harvest much mor e knowl edge before Eliza-
bet h was t hrough.
My cont act wi t h the wi sdom of the Masters has been
limited since Cat heri ne was cured and her therapy ended.
Yet in an occasional, unbelievably vivid, nearly lucid
dream I will receive mor e i nformat i on, such as the lectures
near the end of Many Lives, Many Masters. And somet i mes
the messages come when I am in a deeply meditative
dreaml i ke state. For example, a system of psychot herapy
for t he t went y-fi rst cent ury was laid out for me, a system
that is psycho-spiritual in nat ure and whi ch could supplant
the tired t echni ques of the past.
The messages and images crowded my brain at great
speed with a flitting, brilliant clarity. Unfortunately I could
not tape-record my mind, the receiving station. So the ideas
are like precious stones, but the set t i ngmy words trying
to explain and define the speeding, darting thoughtsis
like dross. The beginning was a clear message.
"All is love. . . . All is love. Wi t h love comes under -
standing. Wi t h underst andi ng comes patience. And t hen
t i me stops. And everyt hi ng is now. "
Instantly I compr ehended t he t rut h of these t hought s.
Real i t y is the present. Dwel l i ng in the past or f ut ur e
causes pain and illness. Patience can stop time. God' s love
is everyt hi ng.
I coul d also immediately compr ehend the healing
power of these thoughts. I began to understand.
Only Love Is Real
65
"Love is t he ultimate answer. Love is not an abstraction
but an actual energy, or spect rum of energies, whi ch you
can ' create' and maintain in your being. Just be loving.
You are begi nni ng to t ouch God wi t hi n yourself. Feel
loving. Express your love.
"Love dissolves fear. You cannot be afraid when you
are feeling love. Since everyt hi ng is energy, and love
encompasses all energies, all is love. Thi s is a strong clue
to the nat ure of God.
" Whe n you are loving and unafraid, you can forgive.
You can forgive others, and you can forgive yourself. You
begin to see wi t h the proper perspective. Guilt and anger
are reflections of the same fear. Guilt is a subtle anger
directed inward. Forgiveness dissolves guilt and anger. They
are unnecessary, damaging emotions. Forgive. This is an
act of love.
"Pr i de can get in the way of forgiving. Pride is one
manifestation of ego. Ego is t he transient, false self. You
are not your body. You are not your brain. You are not
your ego. You are greater t han all of these. You need
your ego to survive in the t hree-di mensi onal world, but
you need only that part of the ego whi ch processes i nfor-
mation. The rest pri de, arrogance, defensiveness, f ear
is worse t han useless. The rest of the ego separates you
from wi sdom, j oy, and God. You must transcend your
ego and fi nd your true self. The t rue self is the permanent ,
deepest part of you. It is wise, loving, safe, and j oyful .
"Intellect is i mport ant in t he t hree-di mensi onal worl d,
but intuition is mor e i mport ant .
" You have reversed reality and illusion. Reality is the
r
ecogni t i on of your immortality, divinity, and t i me-
lessness. Illusion is your transient t hree-di mensi onal
world. Thi s reversal is damagi ng to you. You yearn for
66 Brian L. Weiss
t he illusion of security instead of the security of wi sdom
and love. You yearn to be accepted when, in reality, you
can never be rejected. Ego creates illusion and hides t rut h.
Ego must be dissolved, t hen t rut h can be seen.
" Wi t h love and underst andi ng comes the perspective
of infinite patience. What is your hurry? Ther e is no time
anyway; it only feels that way to you. Whe n you are not
experi enci ng the present, when you are absorbed in the
past or worri ed about the fut ure, you bri ng great heartache
and grief to yourself. Ti me is an illusion, too. Even in
t he t hree-di mensi onal worl d, f ut ur e is only a system of
probabilities. Why do you wor r y so?
"Therapy can be done to the self. Understanding is ther-
apy. Love is the ultimate therapy. Therapists, teachers, and
gurus can help, but only for a limited time. The direction
is inward, and sooner or later the inward path must be trod
alone. Although in reality you are never alone.
"Measur e time, it you must, in lessons learned, not in
mi nut es or hours or years. You can cure yourself in five
mi nut es if you come to t he proper understanding. Or in
fifty years. It is all the same thing.
" Th e past must be r emember ed and t hen forgot t en.
Let it go. Thi s is true for chi l dhood traumas and past-life
traumas. But this is also t rue for attitudes, misconceptions,
belief systems dr ummed into you, for all old t hought s.
Indeed, for all thoughts. Ho w can you see freshly and
clearly wi t h all those thoughts? What if you needed t o
learn somet hi ng new? Wi t h a fresh perspective?
"Thought s create the illusion ofseparateness and differ-
ence. Ego perpetuates this illusion, and this illusion creates
fear, anxiety, and t remendous grief. Fear, anxiety, and
grief in t urn create anger and violence. Ho w can peace
exist in the worl d when these chaotic emot i ons pr edomi -
Only Love Is Real 67
nate? Just unravel. Go back t o t he source of the probl em.
You are back t o t hought s, old t hought s. Stop thinking.
Instead, use your intuitive wi sdom t o experience love
again. Medi t at e. See that everyt hi ng is i nt erconnect ed and
i nt erdependent . See the unity, not t he differences. See
vour t rue self. See God.
"Medi t at i on and visualization will help you stop t hi nk-
ing so much and will help you begi n t he j our ney back.
Healing will occur. You will begi n t o use your unused
mi nd. You will see. You will underst and. And you will
grow wise. Then there will be peace.
" You have a relationship wi t h yourself as well as wi t h
others. And you have lived in many bodies and in many
times. So ask your present self why it is so fearful. Why
are you afraid t o take reasonable risks? Are you afraid of
vour reput at i on, afraid of what others think? These fears
are condi t i oned f r om chi l dhood or before.
"Ask yourself these questions: What ' s to lose? What is
the worst that can happen? Am I cont ent t o live the rest
ot my life this way? Against a background of death, is this
so risky?
"In your growt h, do not be afraid of evoki ng anger
in ot her peopl e. Anger is only a manifestation of their
insecurity. But fearing this anger can hol d you back. Anger
woul d be merely stupid if it di dn' t create so much grief.
Dissolve your own anger in love and forgiveness.
" Do not let depression or anxiety hol d you back in
your gr owt h. Depression is losing perspective, forgetting,
<*nd taking things for granted. Sharpen your focus. Reset
your values. Remember what should not be taken tor
granted. Shift your perspective, and r emember what is
nnport ant and what is less i mport ant . Get out of the rut.
Remember to hope.
68 Brian L. Weiss
"Anxi et y is bei ng lost in t he ego. It is losing one' s
boundari es. Ther e is a di ml y r emember ed loss of love, a
woundi ng of pride, a loss of pat i ence and peace. Re me m-
ber, you are never alone.
" Ne ve r lose t he courage t o take risks. You are i mmor -
tal. You can never be hur t . "
Sometimes the messages are much less psychological and
seem to be from an older, mor e didactic source. The style
is quite different. It is almost as if I am taking dictation.
" The r e are many types of karma, debts t o be balanced.
Individual karma pertains t o t he entity' s own obligations,
those uni que t o hi m. But t here is also group karma, t he
collective debts of his group, and there are many groups:
religions, races, nationalities, and so on. At a larger level,
t here is planetary karma, whi ch will in t i me affect t he
planet' s destiny and out come. In gr oup karma not only
are individual debts accumul at ed and wor ked t hrough,
but t he out come is eventually applied t o t he group, coun-
try, or planet. The application of such gr oup karma det er-
mi nes t he fut ure of the gr oup or count ry. But it also
applies t o the reincarnating individual, bot h wi t hi n t he
gr oup or count ry, or simultaneously and intersecting but
not wi t hi n, or at a later poi nt in time.
"Act i on becomes right action when it becomes action
al ong t he Way, along the Path t oward God. All ot her
paths are eventually blind alleys or illusions, and action
al ong t hose paths is not right action. Thus right action
promot es t he individual' s spirituality and his ret urn.
Act i on that fosters justice and mercy and love and wi sdom
and t he attributes we call godly or spiritual is inevitably
right action. The fruit of right action is the desired goal.
The fruits of actions along t he ot her paths are transient,
Only Love Is Real 69
illusory, and false. These fruits ent rap and deceive, but
they are not what we ieally desire. The fruits of right
action encompass all our goals and wishes and all that we
need or desire.
"Fame is an example. He that seeks fame as an end in
itself may achieve fame for a while. But that fame will be
temporary and will not gratify. If, however, fame comes to
one unbidden, as a result of right action, action along the
Path, that fame will endure and will be proper. But to the
person on the Path, it will not matter. This is the difference
between fame sought selfishly, for the individual, and fame
unsought and not desired, a by-product of right action. The
first is illusion and is impermanent. The second is real and
permanent, adhering to the soul. The first accrues karma
and must be balanced; the second does not . "
Somet i mes the messages flash by very quickly and suc-
cinctly.
" The goal is not to wi n but to open up. "
Then, as if hi s/ her turn came again, mor e from the
psychological source and the rapi d-fi re impressions.
" God forgives, but you also have to be forgiven by
people . . . and you have to forgive t hem. Forgiveness is
also your responsibility. You must forgive and be forgiven.
Psychoanalysis does not repair t he damage. You still have
to go bevond underst andi ng and make changes, i mprove
the worl d, repair relationships, forgive others and accept
their forgiveness. Bei ng active in seeking virtue is of the
utmost i mport ance. Lip service is not enough. Intellectual
understanding wi t hout applying the remedy is not
enough. Expressing your love is."
er 10
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell;
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,I knew it all of yore.
DANTE GABRI EI . KOSSETTI
ro ent ered the mi ddl e of a difficult lifetime. Some-
times the difficult ones offer the most opport uni t i es to
learn, opport uni t i es to progress mor e quickly along our
paths. Somet i mes the relatively easy lifetimes offer fewer
chances for advancement . They are times to rest. Thi s
was definitely not one of t he easy ones. Immediately
Pedro was angry, and he cl enched his j aw tightly.
" They' r e maki ng me go, and I do not want to. . . . I do
not wish that ki nd of life!"
" Whe r e are they maki ng you go?" I asked, l ooki ng
tor clarification.
"I nt o the priesthood, to be a monk. . . . I do not want
this!" he said, insistently. He was silent for a moment ,
still angry. The n he began to explain.
"I am the youngest son. It is expected that I do this.
7d
Only Love Is Real 71
gut I do not want t o leave her. . . . We are in love; but
if I go, someone else will have her, not me. . . . I cannot
bear that. I woul d die first!"
But he did not die. Instead, he became gradually
resigned t o t he inevitable. He had t o separate f r om his
love. His heart was ripped out , but he cont i nued to live
anyway.
Years passed.
"It is not so bad now. Th e life is peaceful. I am very-
attached t o t he abbot and I have chosen to stay wi t h
him. . . . " Aft er mor e silence, a recogni t i on.
" He is my brot her . . . my brot her. I know it is hi m.
We are very close. I can see his eyes!"
Pedro had finally f ound his deceased brot her. I knew
that now his grief woul d begi n t o heal. The brothers had
i ndeed been t oget her before. And if before, they coul d
be t oget her again.
Mor e years passed. The abbot grew old.
" He will leave me soon, " Pedro predicted. "But we
will be t oget her again, in heaven. . . . We have prayed
for t hat . " The abbot soon died, and Pedro grieved.
He prayed and he medi t at ed, and t he time of his death
approached. He had cont ract ed tuberculosis and he was
coughi ng. Breat hi ng was difficult. His spiritual brot hers
stood ar ound his bedside.
I let hi m pass quickly to t he ot her side. Ther e was no
need t o suffer again.
"I learned about anger and forgiveness, " he began, not
even wai t i ng for me to ask about t he lessons of that
lifetime.
"1 learned that anger is foolish. It eats at the soul. My
parents did what they t hought best, for me and for t hem.
Th ev did not underst and the intensity of my passions or
72 Brian L. Weiss
that I had t he right to det ermi ne t he direction of my life,
not they. They meant well, but they did not understand.
They wer e ignorant . . . but I have been ignorant also. I
have commandeer ed the lives of others. So how can I
j udge t hem or be angry wi t h t hem when I have done
the same?"
He was silent again, t hen resumed. "Thi s is why f or -
giveness is so important. We have all done those things
for whi ch we condemn others. If we want to be forgiven,
we must forgive t hem. God forgives us. We should for-
give, t oo. " He was still revi ewi ng t he lessons.
"I woul d not have met t he abbot if I had my way, "
he concl uded. "Ther e is always compensat i on, always
grace, always goodness, if we j ust look for it. If I had
remai ned angry and bitter, if I had resented my life, I
woul d have missed the love and t he goodness that I f ound
in the monast ery. "
Ther e wer e other, smaller lessons.
"I learned about the power of prayer and medi t at i on, "
he added. He was silent again as he ponder ed the lessons
and implications of that saintly life.
"Perhaps it was better to sacrifice romant i c l ove, " he
conj ect ured, "f or the greater l ove of God and my
brot hers. "
I was not sure, and nei t her was he. Several hundr ed
years later in Germany, Pedro' s soul, in Magda, chose a
very different path.
The next step in Pedro' s j our ney to find the meet i ng
poi nt bet ween spiritual love and romant i c love occurred
i mmedi at el y after his memor y of the monk.
" I ' m bei ng pulled back to anot her life," he announced
abruptly. "I must go!"
" Go ahead, " I urged. " What is happeni ng?"
Only Love Is Real 73
He was silent for a few moment s.
" I ' m lying on the ground, gravely wounded. . . . Ther e
are soldiers nearby. They have pulled me over the ground
and t he rocks. . . . I ' m dyi ng!" He gasped.
" My head and my side hur t badl y, " he mut t ered in a
thin voice. " The y are no l onger interested in me. "
The rest of this poor man' s story slowly emerged.
Wh e n he st opped respondi ng, t he soldiers left. He
could see t hem above hi m in their short leather uni forms
and boot s. They wer e not happy. They were having their
fun, but t hey had not really meant t o kill hi m. They wer e
not sad. These peopl e wer e not wor t h very much. All in
all, an unsatisfying escapade.
His daught er came to hi m, wailing and sobbing, and
she softly cradled his head in her lap. She rocked r hyt hmi -
cally, and he coul d feel t he life ebbi ng f r om his shattered
body. His ribs must have been br oken because there was
a sharp pain wi t h every breat h. He tasted bl ood in his
mout h.
His strength was di mi ni shi ng rapidly now. He tried t o
speak t o his daught er but coul d not ut t er a wor d. A distant
gurgling came f r om somewher e in t he depths of his body.
"I love you, fat her, " he heard her say softly. He was
too weak t o answer. He l oved her very much, this daugh-
ter. He woul d miss her beyond human endurance.
His eyes closed for t he last t i me, and t he incredible
pam disappeared. Somehow he coul d still see. He felt
extremely light and free. He f ound himself l ooki ng down
at his cr umpl ed body, his head and shoulders resting limply
in his daught er' s lap. She was sobbing, completely
unaware that he was now at peace, that the pain was
gone. She was focusi ng only on his body, a body that no
longer held hi m, rocki ng slowly back and forth.
74 Brian L. Weiss
He coul d leave his family now, if he want ed. They
woul d be all right. They only needed to r emember that
t hey woul d also leave their bodies when their time arrived.
He became aware of a marvelous light, brighter and
mor e beautiful than a t housand suns. Yet he coul d l ook
directly at it. Someone in or near the light was beckoni ng
t o hi m. His grandmot her! She l ooked so young, so radiant,
so healthy. He desired t o go to her, and instantly he was
wi t h her near the light.
"It is good to see you again, my chi l d, " she t hought ,
t he words appearing in his consciousness. "It has been a
l ong t i me. "
She hugged hi m in arms of spirit, and they wal ked
t oget her i nt o the light.
Pedro' s haunt i ng story compl et el y engrossed me.
Moved by his grief at leaving his daughter, I coul d feel
the pr of ound sadness of his part i ng words. However , I
rejoiced at the uplifting encount er wi t h his grandmot her.
If I were not so over whel med by the emot i ons of t he
moment , whi ch also evoked t he tragic memor y of my
own son' s death, perhaps my mi nd woul d have made the
connect i on bet ween Pedro and Elizabeth.
I had heard the daughter' s words before. As Mi ri am,
Elizabeth had rocked back and fort h on the bl oody
gr ound, cradling her dying father, and she had whi spered
the same lament. The stories wer e eerily similar.
At that moment not only was my vi ew obscured by
emot i on, but several weeks and dozens of ot her patients
had i nt ervened since Elizabeth' s recount i ng, thus di m-
mi ng my awareness even more.
The discovery of their ent wi ned destinies woul d be
delayed to a different day.
Only Love Is Real 75
* *
My mi nd flashed back t o t he short life of my firstborn
son, Adam. I t hi nk it was my ment al pi ct ure of the grief
of Pedro' s daught er in that ancient life that precipitated
this memor y.
Carol e and I had rocked in each ot her' s arms after t he
earl y-morni ng phone call f r om t he doct or at the hospital.
Adam' s life had ended at t went y- t hr ee days. Heroi c open-
heart surgery coul d not save hi m. We cried, and we
rocked. Ther e was not hi ng else we could do at that
moment .
Ou r grief seemed over whel mi ng, beyond physical and
mental endurance. Even breat hi ng became difficult. It
hurt t o take a deep breath, and air was hard to come by,
as if t here wer e a constricting corset around our chests,
a corset of grief, but wi t h no ties to undo.
Wi t h t i me t he intensity and sharpness of our sadness
slowly abated, but the hol e in our hearts remai ned. We
had Jordan, and we had Amy, and they are uni que and
special children, but they did not replace Adam.
The passage of time did help. Like ripples in a pond
after a heavy stone disturbs its peaceful surface, waves of
grief spread slowly out ward. Like t he first waves whi ch
tightly encircle the stone, everyt hi ng in our lives was
connect ed to Adam.
Wi t h t i me, new peopl e and new experiences came i nt o
our lives. They were not as directly connect ed to Adam
and to our pain. Ri ppl es spreading ever out ward. Mor e
new events, mor e new things, mor e new people. Breat h-
ing r oom. We could take deep breaths again. You never
forget the hurt, but, as t i me passes, you can live around
it.
We met Adam again ten years later in Mi ami . He talked
76 Brian L. Weiss
to us t hr ough Cat heri ne, t he pat i ent described in Many
Lives, Many Masters, and our lives were never the same.
Aft er a decade of pain, we began t o understand about t he
i mmort al i t y of souls.
'hapter 11
Many times man lives and dies
Between his two eternities,
That of race and that oj soul,
And ancient Ireland knew it all.
Whether man die in his bed
Or the rifle knocks him dead,
A brief parting from those dear
Is the worst man has to fear.
Though grave-diggers' toil is long,
Sharp their spades their muscles strong.
They but thrust their buried men
Back in the human mind again.
W. B . YEATS
El i zabet h sobbed softly as she sat in the familiar recliner.
Her mascara was r unni ng in j agged lines away f r om her
eyes. I gave her a tissue, and she dabbed absentmindedly
at her eyes as the black mascara lines gained speed in their
descent t oward her chin.
She had j ust finished r ecount i ng a life as an Irish woman,
a life that had ended peacefully and wi t h much happiness.
Yet the stark contrast to her current life, wi t h its losses
and despair, was causing her pain. And so she cried, despite
the happy endi ng. These wer e tears of sadness, not of j oy.
The day' s session had begun much less dramatically.
Elizabeth had only recently regained the energy and self-
conhdence to enter into a relationship, this time a short -
77
78 Brian L. Weiss
t er m encount er wi t h an older man. Elizabeth was initially
attracted t o hi m because he had money and position. But
t here was no chemistry, at least not on her part. Her head
urged her t o settle, t o accept that he was secure, he seemed
t o care for her quite a bit, and who else was t here for
her anyway?
Elizabeth' s heart said no. Do not settle. You do not
love hi m, and wi t hout love, what is there?
Her heart' s argument finally won. He was pressing
her to deepen the relationship, t o have sex, to make
commi t ment s. Elizabeth deci ded to end it. She was
relieved, sad t o be lonely again, but not depressed. Overall,
she was handl i ng the end of this relationship very appro-
priately. And yet here she was, eyes red, nose stuffy,
mascara r unni ng wildly.
Whe n we started t he regression process, Elizabeth
lapsed i nt o a deep trance, and I t ook her back in time
once again. This time she emerged in Ireland, several
centuries ago.
" I ' m very pr et t y, " she comment ed i mmedi at el y
upon f i ndi ng herself. "I have dark hair and light bl ue
eyes. . . . I dress very plainly and wear no makeup or
j ewel r y . . . as if I ' m hi di ng. My skin is so whi t e, like
cr eam. "
"Hi di ng f r om what ?" I i nqui red, following her lead.
She was silent for a f ew moment s, l ooki ng for the
answer. " Fr om my husband . . . yes, f r om hi m. Oh, he' s
a lout! He drinks t oo much, and he becomes violent. . . .
He' s so selfish. . . . I curse this marriage!"
" Wh y did you choose hi m?" I innocently asked.
"I did not choose hi m. . . . I woul d never choose hi m.
My parents chose hi m, and now t hey are dead. . . . They
are dead, but I still have to live wi t h him. He is all I have
Only Love Is Real 79
now, " she said, a fragile sadness j oi ni ng the anger in her
voice.
" Do you have any children? Does anyone else live
wi t h you?" I asked.
" No . " Her anger was subsiding, but the sadness was
more evi dent now. "I cannot . I had a . . . miscarriage.
Ther e was a great deal of bl eedi ng . . . and i nfect i on
They say I can' t bear children. . . . He is angry at me for
that, t oo. . . . He blames me . . . for not bearing hi m sons.
As if I wanted this!" She was upset again.
" He hits me , " she added, in a suddenly soft voice. " He
hits me as if I wer e a dog. I hate hi m for t hat . " She
stopped talking and tears f or med in t he corners of her
eyes.
" He hits you?" I echoed.
"Yes, " she answered simply.
I wai t ed for more, but she was reluctant to elaborate.
" Whe r e does he hit you?" I pressed.
" On my back, my arms, my face. Ever ywher e. "
" Ca n you stop hi m?"
"At times. I used t o hit back, but t hen he hur t s, me
more. He drinks t oo much. The best t hi ng I can do is
accept t he beating. Eventually he tires and stops . . . until
the next t i me. "
"Look at hi m closely," I urged her "Look into his
eyes. See if you recognize hi m as anyone in your current
life."
Elizabeth' s eyes narrowed, and her br ow furrowed, as
if she were looking, even t hough her eyelids remai ned
closed.
"I do know him! It's George. . . . It's George!"
" Good. You are back in that lifetime. The beatings
have st opped. "
80 Brian L. Weiss
She had recognized the banker, George, wi t h wh o m
she had had a relationship a year and a half earlier. That
relationship had ended whe n Geor ge became physically
abusive.
Patterns such as abusiveness can persist over many life-
times if t hey are not recogni zed and broken. At some
subconscious level Elizabeth and Geor ge had r emember ed
each ot her. They had come t oget her once again, and he
tried t o resume t he abuse. However , Elizabeth had l earned
an i mpor t ant lesson over the centuries. Thi s t i me Elizabeth
had t he strength and self-respect to end their relationship
soon after t he abuse began. Wh e n past-life origins are
discovered, it is even easier to break destructive patterns.
I l ooked over at Elizabeth. She was quiet. She seemed
so sad and hopeless. I had enough i nformat i on about her
abusive husband, and I deci ded t o move her ahead in
time.
"I will count backward f r om t hree to one and tap you
lightly on the forehead, " I told her. "As I do this, move
ahead to the next significant event in this life. Let it come
into compl et e focus in your mi nd as I count . See what
happens to you. "
On t he count of one, she began t o smile blissfully. I
was glad t here was a little light in this bleak life.
" He has died, thank God, and I am so happy, " she
gushed. "I am wi t h a man I love. He is so kind and gentle.
He never hits me. We love each other. He' s a very good
man. We are happy t oget her . " Her blissful smile never
faded.
" Ho w did your husband die?" I i nqui red.
"I n a t avern, " she answered, as her smile faded. " He
was killed in a fight. They tell me that he was stabbed in
Only Love Is Real 81
the chest wi t h a l ong knife. It must have pierced his heart.
They tell me bl ood was everywhere.
"I am not sad that he di ed, " she cont i nued. "I woul d
not have met J ohn ot herwi se. J ohn is a wonder f ul man. "
Her radiant smile had ret urned.
Onc e again I pressed forward. " Go ahead in t i me, " I
instructed, "and see what happens t o you and John. Go
to t he next significant event in your lives."
She was silent, scanning t he years.
"I am very weak. My heart is fluttering so, " she gasped.
"I cannot catch my breat h!" She had progressed t o t he
day of her death.
"Is J ohn ar ound?" I asked.
" Oh , yes. He' s sitting on t he bed and hol di ng my hand.
He' s very concerned, very attentive. He knows he' s goi ng
to lose me. We are sad about this but happy that we lived
so many good years t oget her . " She paused, r emember i ng
the scene wi t h J ohn at her bedside. Onl y Elizabeth' s rela-
tionship wi t h her bel oved mot her had approached this
incredible level of love, j oy, and intimacy she had shared
with John.
"Look closely at John. Look at his face and in his eyes.
See if you recognize hi m as someone in your present life."
Recogni t i on often immediately occurs with an unmistakable
certainty when a patient looks into the other person' s eyes.
The eyes may truly be the wi ndow t o the soul.
" No , " she said simply. "I do not know hi m. "
She paused again, t hen spoke wi t h alarm in her voice.
" My heart is giving out , " she declared. "It' s very erratic
now. I feel like I want to leave this body now. "
"It' s okay. Leave that body. Tell me what happens to
you. "
82 Brian L. Weiss
Aft er a few moment s, she began to describe the events
fol l owi ng her death. Her face l ooked peaceful, her breat h-
ing relaxed.
"I am hoveri ng above and to the side of my body, near
t he corner of the ceiling. I can see J ohn sitting wi t h my
body. He' s just sitting there. He doesn' t want to move.
He will be all alone now. We only had each ot her . "
" The n you never had chi l dren?" I asked, for clarifica-
t i on.
" No , I coul d not. But that was not i mport ant . We had
each ot her, and that was enough for us. " She lapsed back
i nt o silence, her face still very peaceful, a small smile
formi ng.
"i t is so beautiful here. I am aware of a beautiful light
all around me. It pulls at me, and I want to fol l ow it. It
is a beautiful light. It restores you wi t h energy!"
" Go ahead, " I agreed.
" We travel t hrough a beaut i ful valley, wi t h trees and
flowers all around. . . . I am becomi ng aware of many
things, much i nformat i on, much knowl edge. But I don' t
want t o forget about John. I must r emember John, and if
I learn all these ot her things, I mi ght forget John, and I
can' t !"
" You will r emember John, t oo, " I advised, but I was
not really sure. What was this ot her knowl edge she was
bei ng given? I asked her.
"It is all about lifetimes and energies, about how we
use our lifetimes to perfect our energies so that we can
move on to higher worlds. They are telling me about
energy and about love and how these are the same . .
when we understand what love really is. But 1 do not
want to forget about J ohn! "
Only Love Is Real 83
"I will r emi nd you all about J ohn. "
" Good. "
"Is t here mor e?"
" No, that is all for now. . . . " Then she added, " We
can learn mor e about l ove by listening t o our i nt ui t i ons. "
Perhaps this last comment had mor e levels of meani ng,
especially for me. Years earlier t he Masters, speaking
t hrough Cat heri ne, had told me at t he very end of her
sessions and their amazi ng revelations, " What we tell
you is for now. You must now learn t hr ough your own
i nt ui t i on. " Ther e woul d be no mor e revelations t hr ough
Cat heri ne' s hypnosis.
Elizabeth rested. Ther e woul d be no furt her revelations
today either. I awakened her, and after her mi nd reori -
ented t o t he present time, she began t o cry softly.
" Wh y are you cryi ng?" I gently asked her.
"Because I l oved hi m so much, and I don' t t hi nk I
will ever love someone that much again. I' ve never met
any man that I coul d l ove like that, and who l oved me
back t he same way. And wi t hout that love, how can my
life ever be compl et e? Ho w can I ever be compl et el y
happy?"
" You never know, " I obj ect ed, but wi t hout much
convi ct i on. " You could meet someone and fall madly in
love again. You coul d even meet J ohn again, in anot her
body. "
"Sur e, " she said wi t h some sarcasm. Her tears kept
falling. " You' r e j ust trying t o make me feel better. I' ve
got a bet t er chance of wi nni ng t he l ot t ery than of fi ndi ng
him again. "
The odds ot wi nni ng the lottery, I r emember ed, wer e
fourt een million t o one.
84 Brian L. Weiss
*
In Through Time into Healing, I describe the reuni on of
Ariel and Ant hony.
A reunion with a soulmate after a long and involuntary
separation can be an experience worth waiting foreven
if the wait is one of centuries.
On a vacation in the Southwest, my former patient,
Ariel, a biologist, met an Australian named Anthony.
Both were emotionally mature individuals who had been
married before, and they quickly fell in love and became
engaged. Back in Miami, Ariel suggested that Anthony
have a regression session with me just to see if he could
have the experience and to "see what came up. " They
were both curious to find out whether Ariel would appear
in any way in Anthony's regression.
Anthony turned out to be a superb regression subject.
Almost instantly, he returned to a very vivid North Afri-
can lifetime around the time of Hannibal, more than two
thousand years ago. In that lifetime, Anthony had been
a member of a very advanced civilization. His particular
tribe was fair skinned, and they were gold smelters who
had the ability to use liquid fire as a weapon by spreading
it on the surface of rivers. Anthony was a young man in
his mid-twenties in the midst of fighting a forty-day
war with a neighboring, darker-skinned tribe that vastly
outnumbered the defenders.
Anthony' s tribe had actually trained some of the mem-
bers of the enemy tribe in the art of warfare, and one of
the former trainees was leading the assault. One hundred
thousand of the enemy tribe carrying swords and hatchets
were crossing a large river on ropes as Anthony and his
people spread liquid fire on their own river, hoping it
Only Love Is Real 85
would reach the attackers before the attackers reached
the shore.
To protect their women and children, the defending
tribe put most of them on large boats with violet sails in the
middle of a huge lake. Among this group was Anthony' s
voung and beloved fiancee, who was perhaps seventeen
or eighteen years old. However, the liquid fire suddenly
burned out of control, and the boats caught fire. Most
o f t he tribe's women and children perished in this tragic
accident, including Anthony' s fiancee, who was his great
passion.
This tragedy broke the morale of the warriors, and
they were soon defeated. Anthony was one of the few
who escaped the slaughter through brutal hand-to-hand
fighting. Eventually, he escaped to a secret passageway
that led to a warren of rooms underneath the large temple
where the tribe's treasures were stored.
There Anthony had found one other living person,
his king. The king commanded Anthony to kill him, and
Anthony, a loyal soldier, complied against his will. After
the king's death, Anthony was all alone in the dark temple,
where he used his time to write the history of his people
on gold leaf and to seal the writing in large urns or jars.
It was here that he eventually died of starvation and grief
over the loss of his fiancee and his people.
There was one more detail. His fiancee in that lifetime
reincarnated as Ariel in this lifetime. The two of them
reunited as lovers after two thousand years. Finally, the
long-postponed wedding would take place.
Anthony and Ariel had only been separated for one
hour when he stepped out of my office. But the power
of their reunion was such that it was as though they had
not seen each other for two thousand years.
86 Brian L. Weiss
Recently Ariel and Anthony were married. Their sud-
den and intense and seemingly coincidental meeting now
has a new layer of meaning to them, and their already
passionate relationship is now infused with a sense of
continuous adventure.
Anthony and Ariel plan to take a trip to North Africa
to try and find the location of their past life together and
to see what other details they can uncover. They know
that whatever they find can only increase the adventure
they find in each other.
7 2
Though I may not be a king in my future life, so
much the better: I shall nevertheless live an active life
and, on top of it, earn less ingratitude.
FREDERI CK THE GRE AT
^ Ze was perspiring profusely now, for the second t i me,
despite t he heavy ai r-condi t i oni ng in my office. Sweat
pour ed down his face, dr enched his shirt, rolled down
his neck. A mome nt ago he had shaking chills and his
body shivered. But malaria coul d do that, alternating
bone-chi l l i ng cold and i nfl ami ng heat. Francisco was
dying f r om this dreaded disease, alone and thousands of
miles f r om his l oved ones. It was a terrible, painful way
to die.
Pedro had begun this office visit by drifting i nt o a
deeply relaxed, hypnot i c state. He quickly went back
t hrough t i me and space, i nt o a past lifetime, and i mmedi -
ately he began t o sweat. I tried t o dry his face wi t h tissues,
but it was like trying to stop a flood wi t h one' s hands.
The sweat kept pouri ng down. I hoped that any physical
discomfort cased by the dr enchi ng sweat woul d not affect
the dept h and intensity of his trance state.
"I ' m a man . . . with black hair and tanned skin, " he
87
88 Brian L. Weiss
gasped t hr ough the sweat. "I am unl oadi ng a large wooden
ship . . . heavy cargo. . . . It' s boiling hot here. . . . I see
palm trees and flimsy wooden structures nearby. . I ' m
a sailor. . . . We are in t he Ne w Wor l d. "
" Do you know t he name?" I inquired.
"Franci sco . . . my name is Francisco. I am a sailor."
I had meant the name of the place, but he had become
aware of his name in that lifetime.
" Do you know t he name of this place?" I asked again.
He paused for a moment , still sweating profusely. "I
don' t see t hat , " he answered. " On e of these accursed
ports. . . . Ther e is gold here. In the j ungl e . . . somewher e
in t he distant mount ai ns. We will fi nd it. . . . I can keep
some of what I find. . . . Thi s accursed place!"
" Whe r e are you f r om?" I asked, l ooki ng for mor e
details. " Do you know wher e your home is?"
" On the ot her side of t he sea, " he answered patiently.
"I n Spain . . . wher e we are f r om. " He was i ncl udi ng his
fel l ow sailors, unl oadi ng a ship' s cargo in the broiling sun.
" Do you have family in Spain?" I inquired.
" My wife and my son are there. . . . I miss t hem, but
t hey are all right . . . especially wi t h the gold I send back.
My mot her and my sisters are there, t oo. It's not an easy
life. . . . I miss t hem greatly. "
I want ed t o learn mor e about his family.
"I am goi ng to take you back in t i me, " I told hi m,
"back to your family in Spain, t o t he last time you wer e
t oget her, before this current j our ney to the Ne w Wor l d.
I will tap you on your forehead and count backward f r om
t hree t o one. Whe n I reach one, you will be back in
Spain wi t h your family. You can r emember everything.
" Thr ee . . . t wo . . . one. Be t here!"
Only Love Is Real 89
Pedro' s eyes were movi ng under closed lids as he
scanned a scene.
"I can see my wife and my small son. We are sitting
to eat. . . . I see the wooden table and chairs. . . . My
mot her is there also," he observed.
"Look into their faces, i nt o their eyes," I instructed.
"See if you recognize t hem as anyone in your current
life." I was concerned that shifting bet ween lifetimes coul d
be disorienting and mi ght pop Pedro entirely out of Fran-
cisco's time. But he handl ed it smoothly.
"I recognize my son. He is my brot her. . . . Oh yes,
he is Juan . . . how beaut i ful !" He had f ound his brot her
before, as the abbot, when Pedr o was a monk. Al t hough
we had never f ound t hem as lovers, Juan was an enduri ng
soulmate for Pedro. Thei r soul connect i on was wonder -
fully close.
He i gnored his mot her , focusi ng completely on his
young wife.
" We love each ot her deepl y, " he comment ed. "But I
don' t recognize her f r om this life. Our love is very st rong. "
He was silent for a while, enj oyi ng the memor y of his
young wi fe and the deep love that t hey had shared four
or five hundr ed years ago in a Spain so much different
from today' s.
Woul d Pedro ever taste this ki nd of love? Di d t he soul
ot Francisco' s wife also cross t he centuries t o be here
again, and, if so, woul d t hey ever meet?
I t ook Francisco back t o t he Ne w Wor l d and the search
tor gold.
" Go back to the por t , " I instructed, "wher e you have
been unl oadi ng the ship. No w move ahead in t i me to
the next significant event in that sailor's life. As I count
90 Brian L. Weiss
backward f r om three to one and tap your forehead, let
it all come into focus-the next significant event . "
" Thr ee . . . t wo . . . one. You are t here. "
Francisco started t o shiver.
" I ' m so col d, " he compl ai ned. "But I know that infernal
fever will ret urn!" As predicted, a f ew moment s later the
heavy sweating began anew.
" Da mn! " he cursed. "Thi s will kill me, this sickness
. . . and the others have left me behi nd. . . . They know
I cannot keep up. . . . They know t here is no hope for
me. . . . I am doomed in this God-forsaken place. We
di dn' t even fi nd the treasures of gold t hey swear is her e. "
" Do you survive this illness?" I gently asked.
He was quiet, and we wai t ed. "I died f r om this. I never
leave t he j ungl e. . . . The fever kills me, and I never see
my family again. They will be very grieved. . . . My son
is so young. " The sweat on Pedro' s face was now mi xed
wi t h his tears. He was grieving his early death, alone in
an alien land, f r om a strange disease that no sailor's skill
coul d defeat.
1 had hi m detach f r om Francisco' s body, and he floated
in a state of calm and tranquillity, freed f r om t he fever
and pain, beyond grief and suffering. His face was much
mor e peaceful and relaxed, and I let hi m rest.
I ponder ed this pattern of losses in Pedro' s lifetimes.
So many separations f r om his l oved ones. So much grief.
As he made his way t hr ough t he uncertain and nebul ous
mists of time, woul d he be able to find t hem again? Woul d
he fi nd all of them?
Pedro' s lifetimes cont ai ned many patterns, not just
losses. In this regression, he r emember ed bei ng a Spaniard,
but he had also been an English soldier, killed by the
Spanish enemy when his forces invaded their fortress.
Only Love Is Real 91
He r emember ed bei ng male, and he r emember ed bei ng
female. He had experi enced lifetimes as a warri or and
lifetimes as a priest. He had lost people, and he had f ound
t hem.
Aft er he had died as a monk, surrounded by his spiritual
family, Pedro had revi ewed the lessons of that lifetime.
"Forgiveness is so i mpor t ant , " he had told me. " We
have all done those things for whi ch we condemn ot h-
ers. . . . We must forgive t hem. "
His lives illustrated his message. He had to learn f r om
all sides in order t o truly underst and. We all do. We
change religions, races, and nationalities. We experi ence
lifetimes of ext reme weal t h and of abject poverty, of
sickness and of health.
We must learn t o reject all prej udi ce and hatred. Those
who do not will simply switch sides, ret urni ng in t he
bodies of their enemies.
In his song "Tears in Heaven, " Eric Cl apt on wonder s
whet her his young son, who had tragically died in an
accident, woul d know his name if they met in heaven.
His is a universal and ageless question. Ho w will we
recognize our loved ones? Wi l l we know t hem, and will
t hey know us, if and whe n we meet again, whet her in
heaven or on earth, once mor e in physical bodies?
Many of my patients j ust seem to know. Whe n experi -
enci ng their past lives, t hey l ook i nt o a soul compani on' s
eyes, and t hey know. Whet her in heaven or 011 earth,
they sense a vibration or energy, and it is the same as
their l oved one' s. They glimpse t he deeper personality,
and t here is an i nner knowi nga knowi ng f r om the
heart. A connect i on is made.
Because it is the heart' s eyes that oft en see first, words
92 Brian L. Weiss
alone cannot convey t he confi dence of soul recogni t i on.
Ther e is no waveri ng or confusi on. Even t hough t he
body may be very different f r om the current one, t he soul
is t he same. The soul is recogni zed, and the recogni t i on is
compl et e and beyond any doubt .
Somet i mes soul recogni t i on may originate in the mi nd
and may occur even before t he heart sees. This t ype of
recogni t i on happens most oft en wi t h babies or young
children. They exhibit some physical manneri sm or
uni que behavi or, they ut t er a wor d or phrase, and a
bel oved parent or grandparent is instantly recogni zed.
They may have an identical scar or bi rt hmark as your
l oved one or perhaps j ust hol d your hand or look at you
in that same special way. You know.
In heaven, t here are no birthmarks. Woul d Eric
Cl apt on' s son help hi m there, t he song asks. Woul d he
hol d Eric' s hand? Woul d he help hi m stand?
In heaven, wher e physical bodies are not needed, soul
recogni t i on may occur t hr ough an i nner knowi ng, a sense
of a l oved one' s special energy, light, or vibration. You
feel t hem, in you heart. Ther e is a deep and i nt ui t i ve
wi sdom there, and you recogni ze t hem completely and
i mmedi at el y. They may even help you by assuming t he
body t hey had duri ng their last incarnation wi t h you. You
see t hem as they appeared t o you on earth, oft en younger
and healthier.
Cl apt on concludes that he will fi nd peace beyond heav-
en' s door.
Whet her beyond the door t o heaven, the door t o
r emember i ng past lifetimes t oget her, or the door leading
t o f ut ur e lifetimes wi t h your l oved ones, you will never
be alone. They will know your name. They will hol d
Only Love Is Real 93
vour hand. They will bri ng peace and healing to your
heart.
Over and over, my patients, whi l e deeply hypnot i zed,
tell me that death is not an accident. Whe n babies and
young children die, we are given the opport uni t y t o learn
i mport ant lessons. They are teachers to us, teaching us
about values, priorities, and, most of all, about love.
Of t en t he most i mport ant lessons arise f r om the most
difficult times.
72
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar,
Not in entire forgetfulness
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God who is our home.
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
WI LLI AM WO R D S WO R T H
i ^/ es pi t e her success in recalling several past lives, Eliza-
bet h still ached wi t h grief. Intellectually, she had begun
t o accept the concept of t he cont i nui t y of the soul and
t he recurrence of consciousness in subsequent physical
bodies. She had experi enced t he reuni on of soul compan-
ions al ong this j our ney. But memori es did not bri ng her
mot her back, not physically. She coul d not hug her and
talk t o her. She missed her mot her dearly.
As El i zabet h came i nt o t he offi ce for t oday' s session,
I deci ded t o try s omet hi ng di fferent , somet hi ng I had
done wi t h varyi ng degrees of success wi t h ot her
pat i ent s. As usual, I woul d hel p her achi eve a state of
deep rel axat i on. I woul d t hen gui de her in visualizing
a beaut i f ul garden, have her wal k i nt o t he garden, and
rest. As she was resting, I woul d suggest that a visitor
was j oi ni ng her in t he garden and that El i zabet h coul d
94
Only Love Is Real
95
communi cat e wi t h this visitor in t hought s, voi ce,
vision, feelings, or in any ot her way.
Everyt hi ng that Elizabeth experi enced after this poi nt
woul d come f r om her own mi nd, not f r om my sugges-
tions.
She sank deeply into the familiar leather recliner and
quickly ent ered t he tranquil hypnot i c state. I count ed
backward f r om ten t o one, deepeni ng her level even mor e.
She i magi ned herself wal ki ng down a spiral staircase. As
she reached the bot t om of t he steps, she visualized t he
garden in front of her. She wal ked into t he garden and
f ound a place to rest. I t ol d her about the visitor, and we
waited.
Aft er a short while, she became aware that a beautiful
light was approachi ng her. In t he quiet office, Elizabeth
began t o cry softly.
" Wh y are you crying?" I quest i oned.
"It ' s my mot her . . . . I can see her in the light. She
looks so beautiful, so young. "
No w speaking directly t o her mot her , she added, "It ' s
so good t o see you. " Elizabeth was smiling and crying at
the same t i me.
" You can talk to her; you can communi cat e wi t h her , "
I r emi nded Elizabeth. I did not say anyt hi ng mor e at
this poi nt as I di dn' t want t o interfere wi t h the reuni on.
Elizabeth was not recalling a memor y, nor was she re-
experi enci ng some event that had already occurred. Thi s
experi ence was happeni ng now.
The meet i ng wi t h her mot her was taking place vividly
and emotionally in Elizabeth' s mi nd. That their r euni on
existed so powerful l y in her mi nd conferred a considerable
degree of reality t o her experi ence. The potential t o help
her heal her grief was now present.
96 Brian L. Weiss
We sat quietly for several minutes, the silence some-
times punct uat ed by small sighs. At times I could see a
tear roll down Elizabeth' s cheek. She smiled frequently.
Finally, she began to speak.
"She is gone now, " Elizabeth said very calmly. "She had
to go, but she will be back. " Elizabeth remained deeply
relaxed with her eyes still closed as we continued to talk.
" Di d she communi cat e wi t h you?" I asked.
"Yes, she told me many things. She told me t o trust
in myself. She said, ' Trust in yourself. I have taught you
everyt hi ng you need to know! ' "
" Wha t does this mean to you?"
" That I must believe in my own feelings and not let
others i nfl uence me all the t i me . . . especially men," she
replied emphatically.
"She said that men have taken advantage of me because
I di dn' t believe in myself enough, and I let t hem. I gave
t hem t oo much power , r obbi ng myself at the same t i me.
I must stop doi ng this.
" ' We are all the same, ' she told me. ' Souls are not
male or female. You are as beautiful and as power f ul as
any ot her soul in the universe. Do not forget this; do not
become distracted by their physical forms. ' This is what
she said."
" Di d she tell you anyt hi ng else?"
"Yes, t here is mor e, " she answered, but did not el abo-
rate.
" What ?" I prodded.
" That she loves me dearl y, " Elizabeth added in a deli-
cate way. "That she is fine. She is helping many souls on
t he ot her side. . . . She will still always be there for me. . . .
Ther e was one more t hi ng. "
" Wha t is that?"
Only Love Is Real 97
" To be patient. Somet hi ng will happen very soon,
somet hi ng i mport ant . And I must trust in myself."
" Wha t will happen?"
"I don' t know, " she answered softly. "But when it
does, I will trust myself, " she added wi t h a resolve I had
never not i ced in her before.
Sitting in the green r oom of t he " Dona hue " show, I
witnessed a stunningly surrealistic scene. Ther e was Jenny
Cockel l , a f or t y- one- year - ol d woma n f r om England, sit-
ting wi t h her son, Sonny, age seventy-five, and her daugh-
ter, Phyllis, who was si xt y-ni ne years old at t he t i me.
Thei r story is far better and mor e convi nci ng than Bridey
Murphy' s, a famous l andmark reincarnation case.
Ever since her early chi l dhood, Jenny knew that in a
recent past life she had died suddenly, leaving her eight
children virtual orphans. She knew detailed facts about
their earl y-t went i et h-cent ury lives in rural Ireland. Her
name in that life was Mary.
Jenny' s family humor ed her, but t here wer e not enough
funds or interest to investigate t he child' s fantastic stories
of a life of crushing povert y and tragedy in Ireland decades
ago. Jenny grew up not knowi ng if her vivid recollections
were real or not .
Finally, Jenny had the resources t o begin her research.
She f ound five of the eight children of Mary Sut t on, an
Irish woman who died in 1932 f r om complications after
the bi rt h of her eighth child. Mary Sutton' s children
conf i r med many of Jenny' s incredibly detailed memori es.
They seemed convi nced that Jenny was indeed Mary,
their "dead" mot her .
And I was wat chi ng their ongoi ng reuni on, t here in
the green r oom of the " Dona hue " show.
98 Brian L. Weiss
My mi nd shifted gears and I saw the begi nni ng sequence
of t he old "Ben Casey" television show. Thi s was a medi -
cal show in t he late fifties or early sixties. My mot her , in
her subtle way, encouraged me to wat ch this program,
relentlessly i nfl uenci ng me to choose medi ci ne as my
career.
The "Ben Casey" show always began wi t h universal
symbols, and the aged neurosurgeon ment or of t he young
Dr . Ben Casey i nt oned, " Ma n . . . Woma n . . . Bi rt h . . .
Deat h . . . Infi ni t y. " Or somet hi ng very much like this.
Universal mysteries, unanswerabl e riddles. Sitting in t he
green r oom j ust pri or t o goi ng on " Dona hue " as an expert
on past-life memori es, I was getting the answers that had
eluded young Ben Casey and all the others.
Man? Woma n? In t he course of our l i fet i mes, we
change sexes, religions, and races in or der t o l earn f r om
all sides. We are all in school here. Birth? If we never
really die, t hen we are never really bor n. We are all
i mmor t al , di vi ne, and i ndest ruct i bl e. Deat h is not hi ng
mor e t han wal ki ng t hr ough a door i nt o anot her r oom.
We keep r et ur ni ng in or der t o learn certain lessons, or
traits, such as l ove . . . forgi veness . . . under st andi ng
. . . pat i ence . . . awareness . . . nonvi ol ence. . . . We
have t o unl earn ot her traits, such as fear . . . ang^r . . .
greed . . . hat red . . . pri de . . . ego . . . whi ch result
f r om ol d condi t i oni ng. Th e n we can graduat e and leave
this school . We have all t he t i me in t he wor l d t o learn
and unl ear n. We are i mmor t al ; we are i nfi ni t e; we have
t he nat ur e of God.
As I wat ched Jenny and her aged children, even mor e
came to me.
"What soever a man sowet h, that shall he also reap. "
The concept of karma is stated virtually wor d for wor d
Only Love Is Real 99
in all t he great religions. Thi s wi sdom is ancient. We are
responsible to ourselves, t o others, to the communi t y,
and to the planet.
Propel l ed by her need t o care for and to prot ect her
children, Jenny was pulled back to t hem once again. We
never lose our loved ones. We keep comi ng back, t oget her
and t oget her again. Wha t a power f ul reuni t i ng energy
love is.
er 14
My doctrine is: Live so that thou mayest desire to
live againthat is thy dutyfor in any case thou
wilt again!
NI ETZSCHE
J ^ h e r e are many bridges, or techniques, for hel pi ng a
patient r emember past lives t hr ough hypnosis. On e of
these bridges is a door. Of t en I will put patients i nt o a
deep hypnot i c trance and have t hem walk t hrough a door
t hey choose, a door into a past lifetime. "Imagi ne yourself
standing in a beautiful corri dor or hallway, wi t h large and
magni fi cent doors on either side and at the ends. These
are doorways i nt o your past, even i nt o your past lives.
They may lead you t o spintual experiences. As I count
backward f r om five to one, one of these doors will open,
a door to your past. Thi s door will pull you. It will attract
you. Go t o it.
"Fi ve. The door is openi ng. This door will help you
to understand any blocks or obstacles to j oy and happiness
in your current life. Go t o the door.
"Four . You are at the door. You see a beautiful light
on t he ot her side of the door. Step t hrough the door and
i nt o t he light.
100
Only Love Is Real 101
"Thr ee. Go t hr ough the light. You are in anot her t i me
a
nd anot her place.
" Do not worry about what is imagination, fantasy, actual
memory, symbol, metaphor, or some combination of all of
these. It is the experience that matters. Just let yourself
experience whatever pops into your mind. Try not to think,
judge, or critique. Just let yourself experience. What ever
comes into your awareness is fine. You can analyze it later.
" Two. Nearly there, nearly t hr ough the light. Whe n
I say ' One,
1
be t here and j oi n t he person or scene on t he
other side of the light. Let it all come into focus on the
count of one.
" One ! Be there. Look at your feet and see what ki nd
of foot wear you are weari ng. Look at your clothes, your
skin, your hands. Are t hey t he same or different? Pay
attention to details."
The door is just one of many bridges to the past. All
lead t o the same place, t o a past life or a spiritual experi ence
that is i mport ant to the person' s current life situation.
Elevators traveling back t hr ough time; a road or pat hway
or even an actual bridge t hr ough t he mists of time; step-
ping across a creek, br ook, stream, or small river t o the
other side, to anot her lifetime; a t i me machi ne, wi t h the
patient operat i ng the cont rol panel t hese are just a f ew
examples of the myriad pat hways or bridges to the past.
For Pedro, I used the doorways.
Whe n he tried to l ook at his feet after emergi ng f r om
the light, he f ound himself staring instead at the large
stone mask of a god.
" He has a l ong nose and large angled teeth. The mout h
lips . . . are strange, very large and wi de. His eyes are
round and set deeply and far apart. He has a very mean
look. . . . The gods can be cruel . "
102 Brian L. Weiss
" Ho w do you know this is a god?"
" He is very power f ul . "
"Are there many gods, or is he the only one?"
"Ther e are many, but he is a powerful one. . . . He
controls the rain. Wi t hout rain we could not gr ow f ood, "
Pedro explained simply.
"Ar e you there? Can you find yoursel f?" I urged.
" I ' m there. I ' m a priest of some sort. I know about
the heavens and the sun, moon, and stars. I help to make
t he calendars."
" Wher e do you do this wor k?"
"I n a building made of stone. It has stairs that circle
ar ound and small wi ndows t hrough whi ch we see and
measure. It's very complicated, but I' m good at this. They
rely on me for the measurement s. . . . I know when the
eclipses will occur. "
"It sounds as if this is a very scientific civilization," I
comment ed.
" Onl y parts of it, t he ast ronomy and the architecture.
The rest is superstitious and backward, " he clarified.
" Ther e are ot her priests and their supporters who are
only interested in power . They use superstitions and fear
t o del ude the peopl e and maintain their power . They are
support ed by nobles who help to cont rol the warriors.
It's an alliance to keep power in the hands of only a f ew. "
The time and the cul t ure Pedro r emember ed may have
been ancient, but t he t echni ques of cont rol and t he politi-
cal alliances formed to gain and maintain power are t i me-
less. The ambitions of men never seem t o change.
" Ho w do they use superstitions to del ude the people?'
" The y blame the gods for natural events. Then they
bl ame the people for angeri ng or displeasing the gods .
so the peopl e become responsible for natural events, like
Only Love Is Real 103
floods or drought s or eart hquakes or volcanic eruptions.
Wh e n t he peopl e are not t o bl ame at all . . . and nei t her
the gods. . . . These are events of nat ure and not the actions
of angry gods . . . but t he peopl e do not realize this.
They stay i gnorant and fearful fearful because t hey feel
responsible for these calamities." Pedro paused for a f ew
moment s, then he cont i nued.
"It ' s a mistake to externalize our problems, our calami-
ties, t o t he gods. Thi s gives t he priests and nobles t oo much
power . . . . We underst and mor e about natural events than
t he peopl e do. We usually know when they begin and
whe n t hey end. We underst and about t he cycles. An
eclipse is a natural event that can be calculated and pr e-
dicted. It's not an act of anger or puni shment by t he gods
. . . but that is what t hey tell t he peopl e. " Pedro was
speaking rapidly now; words and concepts poured f r om
hi m wi t hout my proddi ng.
" Th e priests hol d themselves out as the communi cat ors
to t he gods. They tell t he peopl e they are t he only i nt er-
mediaries, that t hey know what t he gods want . I know
this is not true. . . . I am one of t he priests." He t hought
silently for a moment .
" Go on, " I suggested.
" Th e priests have devel oped a cruel and elaborate sys-
t em of sacrifices to appease t he gods. " His voice dr opped
to a whisper. "Even sacrifices of peopl e. "
" Of peopl e?" I echoed.
"Yes, " he whispered. " The y do not have to do this
oft en, because it strikes such fear into the people. Ther e
are rituals for dr owni ng and rituals for slaying. . . . As if
gods need human bl ood! " Pedro' s voice was rising as
anger crept in. " They mani pul at e the people wi t h rituals
ot tear. They even choose who is to be sacrificed. Thi s
104 Brian L. Weiss
gives t hem as much power as their gods. They choose
who is t o live and who must di e. "
" Do you have t o take part in the nt ual sacrifices?" I
cautiously asked hi m.
" No , " he answered. "I do not believe in t hem. They
let me stay wi t h my observations and calculations."
"I do not even believe that these gods exist," he whi s-
pered in a confidential way.
" You don' t ?"
" No . Ho w can gods be as pet t y and foolish as people?
Whe n I observe the heaven and t he beautiful har mony
of t he sun and moon, t he planets and the stars . . . how
can such an intelligence, such a wi sdom, be petty and
foolish at t he same time? It makes no sense. We give these
so-called gods our own qualities. Fear, anger, jealousy,
hat r edt hese are ours and we proj ect t hem ont o these
gods. I believe the real god is far beyond human emot i ons.
The real god does not need our rituals and sacrifices."
Thi s ancient incarnation of Pedro possessed great wis-
dom. He talked easily, even of t aboo subjects, and he did
not seem tired, so I decided t o press ahead.
" Do you ever become mor e influential as a priest?" I
asked. " Do you gain mor e power in that lifetime?"
" No , I don' t , " he responded. "I woul d not rule like
that if I had power . I woul d educat e the people. I woul d
let t hem learn for themselves. I woul d stop the sacrifices."
"But t he priests and nobles mi ght lose their power , "
I obj ect ed. " What if the peopl e stopped listening?"
" The y woul d not , " he said. "Real power comes f r om
knowl edge. Real wi sdom is applying that knowl edge in
a caring and benevol ent manner . The peopl e are ignorant,
but that can change. They are not st upi d. "
Only Love Is Real 105
The priest was teaching me about spiritual politics, and
I coul d feel the t rut h in his words.
" Go on, " I requested, after anot her peri od of silence.
" Ther e is no mor e, " Pedr o answered. "I have left that
body, and I am resting. "
Thi s surprised me. I had not asked hi m to leave. We
had not experi enced a deat h scene, and there was no
j arri ng or traumatic event that mi ght have spontaneously
dislodged hi m. I r emember ed that he had ent ered this
lifetime in an unusual way, conf r ont i ng the huge stone
face of t he god of rain.
Perhaps t here was not hi ng mor e to be gained f r om
exami ni ng that lifetime any furt her, and Pedro' s hi gher
mi nd kne w this. And so he left.
He woul d have been a marvel ous ruler.
In November of 1992, Galileo was exonerat ed by the
Chur ch for his "accursed heresy, " whi ch held that t he
earth was not the nucleus of t he universe but that in fact
the earth revolved ar ound t he sun. The investigation that
cleared Galileo began in 1980 and lasted for twelve and
one-hal f years. The wor k of t he Inquisition in 1633 was
finally undone t hree hundr ed and fi ft y-ni ne years later.
Unfort unat el y, cl osed-mi ndedness is oft en undone even
mor e slowly.
All institutions seem t o be cl osed-mi nded. Individuals
who never question their assumptions and belief systems
are similarly cl osed-mi nded. Ho w can they assimilate new
observations and new knowl edge when their minds are
blinded by beliefs and by unt est ed old ideas?
Years ago, while in a deep trance state, Cat heri ne told
me, " Ou r task is t o learn, t o become God-l i ke t hr ough
106 Brian L. Weiss
knowl edge. We know so little. . . . By knowl edge we
approach God, and t hen we can rest. Then we come back
t o teach and help ot hers. "
Knowl edge can only flow i nt o mi nds that are open.
yphanter 15
I know I am deathless. No doubt I have died myself
ten thousand times before. I laugh at what you call
dissolution, and I know the amplitude of time.
WAL T WHI T MAN
b r e a m s have many funct i ons. They help to process and
integrate the day' s events. They provi de clues, oft en in
t he f or m of symbols and met aphors, that hel p solve the
probl ems of everyday liferelationships, fears, wor k,
emot i ons, illnesses, and much mor e. They can assist us
in achieving our desires and goals if not physically t hen
at least in the f or m of wish fulfillment. They aid us in
revi ewi ng past events, r emi ndi ng us of parallels in the
present. They prot ect sleep by disguising stimuli such as
anxieties that woul d ot herwi se awaken us. Dreams have
deeper funct i ons as well. They may provi de pathways t o
recoveri ng repressed or forgot t en memori es, whet her
f r om chi l dhood, infancy, i n- ut er o experiences, or even
t rom past lives. Past-life memor y fragments oft en emerge
in t he dream state, particularly in those dreams in whi ch
t he dreamer sees scenes f r om t he years or centuries pr eced-
ing his or her birth.
Dreams can be psychic or precogmt i ve. Of t en these
107
108 Brian L. Weiss
particular dreams can predi ct t he fut ure. Accuracy varies
because the fut ure appears to be a system of probabilities
and inevitabilities, and because the ability of peopl e to
accurately interpret their dreams itself varies t r emen-
dously. These psychic or precogni t i ve dreams are experi -
enced by many peopl e of all cultures and backgrounds.
However , many peopl e are shocked when their dreams
literally come true.
Anot her type of psychic dream occurs when communi -
cation wi t h a person at a distance is experi enced. The
person may be alive and geographically distant, or the
communi cat i on may be wi t h the soul or consciousness
of someone who has died, such as a relative or dear friend.
Similarly, there may be communi cat i on wi t h an angelic
spirit, a teacher, or a guide. The messages in these dreams
are usually genuinely movi ng and very i mport ant .
"Tr avel i ng" dreams also occur. Dur i ng these dreams
peopl e have the experi ence of visiting places to whi ch
t hey have never physically been. Details of what t hey see
can later be confi rmed. Wh e n the person actually visits
the geographical place, even mont hs or years after the
dream, a feeling of deja vu or familiarity may occur.
Somet i mes the dream traveler visits places that do not
seem t o exist on this planet. These dreams may be far
mor e t han noct urnal imaginings. They may be mystical
or spiritual experiences, accessed because the usual ego and
cogni t i ve barriers are relaxed duri ng sleep and dreami ng.
Knowl edge and wi sdom acqui red duri ng this type of trav-
eling dream can t ransform lives.
On this day, when ni ght l i ght ened into mor ni ng, Eliza-
bet h had one of these dreams.
Only Love Is Real 109
Elizabeth bounced in early for her appoi nt ment , eager
to tell me about the dream she had duri ng the previous
night. She appeared less anxi ous and more relaxed t han
I had ever seen her. Peopl e at work, she told me, had
begun to comment that she l ooked better, that she was
bei ng nicer and mor e patient, even more so than t he
" ol d" Elizabeth, before her mot her' s death.
"Thi s was not one of my typical dreams, " she stressed.
"Thi s dream was mor e alive and real. I still r emember all
the details, and I usually forget most of my dreams pretty
quickly, as you know. "
I had been encouragi ng Elizabeth to write down her
dreams as soon as she awakened. Keepi ng a dream j ournal
near your bed and j ot t i ng down what you r emember of
your dreams significantly enhances the memor y. Ot her -
wise t he dream cont ent fades rapidly away. Elizabeth had
been somewhat lazy about chroni cl i ng her dreams, and
by the time she came t o the office for her appoi nt ment ,
she had usually forgot t en most of the details, if not t he
entire dream.
Thi s dream was different, so vivid that the details were
et ched in her mi nd.
"At first, I ent ered a large r oom. Ther e wer e no wi n-
dows or lamps or overhead lights. But the walls wer e
s omehow glowing. They emi t t ed enough light t o illumi-
nate the entire r oom. "
" We r e the walls hot ?" I asked.
"I don' t t hi nk so. They gave off light but not heat. I
di dn' t t ouch the walls t hough. "
" What else did you not i ce in the r oom?"
"I knew it was a library of some sort, but 1 coul dn' t
see any shelves or any books. In the corner of the r oom
110 Brian L. Weiss
was a statue of the Sphi nx. Ther e were t wo old chairs
on either side of this statue, old f r om an ol den t i me. They
wer e not f r om moder n times. Almost like a t hr one made
out of stone or mar bl e. " She was quiet for a moment ,
her gaze drifting upwar d and t o t he left as she r emember ed
t he ancient chairs.
" What do you t hi nk a statue of the Sphinx was doi ng
t here?" I inquired.
"I don' t know. Maybe because t he library hel ped you
to underst and secrets. I r emember ed the riddle of the
Sphi nx. What walks on f our legs in the mor ni ng, t wo
legs dur i ng the day, and t hree legs at night? Man does.
A crawling baby becomes an adult who becomes elderly,
needi ng a cane to walk. Maybe it has somet hi ng t o do
wi t h that riddle. Or wi t h riddles in general . "
"It coul d be, " I conceded, my mi nd drifting back to
Oedipus and t he first t i me I had heard about t he riddle.
"Yet t here may be ot her meanings, t oo, " I added. "For
example, what if the Sphi nx s omehow provides a clue t o
t he nat ure of the library, or even to its structure or its
l ocat i on?" The dreami ng mi nd could be very compl ex.
"I wasn' t there l ong enough to find out , " she answered. '
"Ar e you aware of anyt hi ng else in the r oom?"
"Yes, " she said i mmedi at el y. " Ther e was a man nearby,
dressed in a long, whi t e robe. I guess he was t he librarian.
He deci ded who coul d come into the r oom and who
coul d not . For some reason, I was allowed i n. "
At this poi nt my practical mi nd could not cont ai n itself
any longer.
" What kind of library doesn' t have books?" I blurted
out .
"That ' s the strange part , " she began to explain. "All I
had to do was to put my arms out with my palms up and
Only Love Is Real 111
what ever book I needed began to form right in my hands!
In no t i me the book was compl et e. It seemed to come
right out of the wall and solidify in my hands. "
" Wha t kind of book did you receive?"
"I don' t r emember exactly. A book about me, about
my lifetimes. I was afraid t o open i t . "
"Afrai d of what ?"
"I don' t know. That t here was somet hi ng bad there,
somet hi ng I woul d be ashamed of. "
" Di d the librarian hel p you?"
" No t really. He j ust began t o laugh. Then he said, 'Is
a rose ashamed ofi t s thorns?' And he laughed some mor e. "
" The n what happened?"
" He led me out , but I felt that eventually I woul d
underst and what he meant and I woul d come back and
not be afraid to read f r om my book. " She grew silent,
pensive.
"Was that the end of t he dream?" I prodded.
" No . After leaving t he library I went t o a classroom
wher e I was taking a course. Ther e were fifteen or t went y
ot her students there. On e young man seemed very famil-
iar, like he was my br ot her . . . but he wasn' t my brot her,
Charl es. " She was referri ng to her present-life brot her in
California.
" What ki nd of a course wer e you taking?"
"I don' t know. "
"Was there mor e?" I asked.
She responded hesitantly. "Yes. "
I wonder ed why she hesitated now, after already relat-
ing some very unusual dream scenes.
" A teacher appeared, " she cont i nued, in a voice slightly
mor e than a whisper. " He had the most intense br own
eves. His eyes woul d change to a beautiful purpl e color,
112 Brian L. Weiss
t hen back to br own again. He was very tall and wor e
only a whi t e robe. His feet were bare. . . . He came to
me and l ooked deeply i nt o my eyes."
" The n what ?"
"I felt the most incredible love. I knew that everyt hi ng
woul d be all right, that everyt hi ng I was goi ng t hr ough
was part of some plan and that the plan was perfect . "
" Di d he tell you t hat ?"
" No, he di dn' t have to. In fact, he di dn' t say anything.
I j ust felt these things, but somehow they seemed t o
be comi ng f r om hi m. I coul d feel everything. I knew
everything. I knew t here was not hi ng to fear . . . ever
. . . and t hen he wal ked away. "
" Wha t else?"
"I felt very light. The last t hi ng I r emember is floating
in t he clouds. I was feeling so loved and so safe. . . . Then
I woke up. "
" Ho w do you feel now?"
"I feel okay, but it's fading. I can r emember everyt hi ng
about the dream, but the feeling is getting weaker. The
traffic driving over here di dn' t hel p. "
Everyday life, interfering again with transcendent expe-
riences.
A woman wrot e to me, t hanki ng me for wri t i ng my
first book. The i nformat i on in the book helped her to
underst and and accept t wo dreams she had haddr eams
that were mor e than t wo decades apart. Her letter was
destroyed when Hurri cane Andr ew ripped t hr ough my
office, but I r emember it well.
Fr om the time she was a young girl she knew that she
woul d have a special child named David. She grew older,
got married, and had t wo daughters but no son. She
Only l^ove Is Real 113
reached her midthirties, and she became mor e and mor e
concerned. Wher e was David?
In a vivid dream an angel came to her and said, " You
can have your son, but he can only stay for ni net een and
a half years. Is that acceptable t o you?"
The woman agreed.
A few mont hs later, she became pregnant , and soon
Davi d was bom. He was i ndeed a special chi l dki nd,
sensitive, and loving. " An old soul , " she woul d say.
She never told Davi d about her dream and t he
agreement wi t h t he angel. It came to pass that he died at
ni net een and a half years of age due t o a rare type of cancer
of t he brain. She felt guilty, anguished, grief-stricken,
despondent . Wh y had she accept ed the angel' s offer? Was
she s omehow responsible for Davi d' s death?
In a vivid dream a mont h after David' s death, t he angel
reappeared. Thi s t i me Davi d was wi t h the angel, and
Davi d spoke to her. " Don' t grieve so, " he said. "I l ove
you. I chose you. You did not choose me . "
And she underst ood.
er 16
It is again a strong proof of men knowing most things
before birth, that when mere children they grasp innu-
merable facts with such speed as to show that they
are not then taking them in for the first time, but
remembering and recalling them.
C I C E R O
^ y was momentarily confused. Pedro had walked through
a door, in his mind, to another time and another place. By
the movement s of his eyes, I could tell that he was observing
something. "You will be able to talk," I told him, "and yet
you will be able to remain in a deep trance state and continue
to observe and to experience. What do you see?"
"I see myself, " Pedr o answered. "I am lying in a field
at night. The air is cool and clear. . . . I see many stars."
"Ar e you al one?"
"Yes. There' s no one else ar ound. "
" What do you l ook like?" I asked, l ooki ng for details
in order t o learn mor e about the time and place in whi ch
he had emerged.
" I ' m myself . . . about t wel ve years old. . . . My hair
is short . "
" You are yoursel f?" I questioned, still not realizing
that Pedro had merely gone back into his own chi l dhood
and not a past life.
114
Only l^ove Is Real 115
"Yes, " he answered simply. "Back in Mexi co as a boy. "
No w I underst ood, and I shifted gears, l ooki ng mor e
for feelings. I want ed t o fi nd out why his mi nd had
selected this particular me mor y from the vast panorama
available to it.
" Ho w do you feel?"
"I feel very happy. Ther e' s somet hi ng so peaceful about
t he night sky. The stars have always seemed so familiar
and friendly to me. . . . I like t o pick out t he constellations
and wat ch t hem mar ch across t he sky as the seasons
change. "
" Do you study t he stars in school?"
" No t really, j ust a little bit. But I read about t hem on
my own. Mostly I like t o wat ch t hem. "
"Does anyone else in your family enj oy wat chi ng t he
stars?"
" No , " he answered, "onl y me . "
I subtly shifted now t o appeal to his hi gher self or
intelligence, t o his expanded perspective, t o learn mor e
about t he i mport ance of this memor y. I was no l onger
speaking to the t wel ve-year-ol d Pedro.
" Wha t is the i mport ance of this memor y of the night
sky?" I asked. " Wh y did your mi nd select this particular
one?"
He was silent for a whi l e. His face softened in t he thin
aft ernoon light.
" Th e stars are a gift t o me , " he began softly. " The y
are a comfort . They are a symphony I have heard before,
refreshing my soul, r emi ndi ng me of what I had forgot t en.
" The y are even mor e, " he cont i nued, a bit eni gmat i -
cally. " They are a pat h gui di ng me t o my destiny . . .
slowly but surely. . . . I must be patient and not get in
the way. The schedule is already set." He was silent again.
116 Brian L. Weiss
I let hi m rest as a t hought crept into my mi nd. The
night sky has been here far longer than manki nd. At some
level, haven' t we all heard that ancient symphony? Are
all of our destinies gui ded as well? And t hen anot her
t hought , very clear in its words but not at all in its meani ng.
I, too, must be patient and not get in t he way of Pedro' s
destiny.
Thi s t hought came t o me like an instruction. It t urned
out to be a prophecy.
As patients like Elizabeth and Pedro challenged many
of my old beliefs about life and death and even about
psychot herapy, I also had begun to meditate, or at least
t o muse, every day. In deeply relaxed states, t hought s,
images, and ideas oft en popped suddenly i nt o my aware-
ness.
One day a t hought came wi t h t he urgency of a message.
I needed to take a close l ook at those patients of mi ne
who had been in therapy for a l ong peri od of t i me, my
chroni c patients. Somehow I woul d now see t hem mor e
clearly, and this clarity of vision woul d also teach me
mor e about myself.
Those patients wh o wer e comi ng to me now for regres-
sion therapy, visualization techniques, and spiritual coun-
seling wer e doi ng ext remel y well. But what about this
ot her popul at i on of patients, many of wh o m were in
t herapy wi t h me before my books were published? Why
woul d I see t hem mor e clearly now? What was I t o learn
about myself?
As it t urned out , qui t e a lot. I had st opped bei ng a
teacher to many of these l ong- t er m patients; instead I had
become a habit and a crut ch. Many had become depen-
Only l^ove Is Real 117
dent on me, and instead of challenging t hem to be i nde-
pendent , I had accepted t he old role.
I had become dependent on t hem, too. They paid the
bills, flattered me, made me feel indispensable to t hem,
and reinforced the st ereot ype of the physician as demi god
in our society. I had to face my ego.
On e by one I faced my fears. Security was the first.
Money is neither good nor bad, and al t hough i mport ant
at times it confers no real security. I needed mor e faith.
In order to take risks, t o commi t myself to right action,
I had t o know that I woul d be all right. I exami ned my
values, what was i mport ant in my life and what was not .
As I r emember ed and realigned my faith and values, my
concerns about money and security disappeared, like a
fog lifting in the sunlight. I felt very safe.
I l ooked at my indispensability and my need to feel
i mport ant . Thi s is anot her illusion of the ego. We are all
spiritual beings, I r emember ed. All of us are equal beneat h
our exteriors. All of us are i mport ant .
My need to be special, t o be loved, coul d only truly
be met at a spiritual level, f r om deep wi t hi n myself, f r om
the divinity wi t hi n. My family coul d help, but only up
to a poi nt . Certainly not my patients. I could teach t hem,
and t hey could teach me. We could help each ot her for
a while, but we coul d never satisfy each ot her' s deepest
needs. That quest is a spiritual one.
Physicians are highly trained teachers and healers but
hardly demigods. We are j ust highly trained people. Physi-
cians are spokes on t he same wheel as all the ot her helpers
in our society.
People oft en hide behi nd their professional labels and
tacades (doctor, lawyer, senator, and so on), most of whi ch
118 Brian L. Weiss
were not even built before our twenties or thirties. We
have to r emember who we were before our titles were
conferred.
It is not only that we are all capable of becoming loving
and spiritual people, peopl e who are charitable, ki nd, and
peaceful, filled wi t h serenity and joy. We already are. We
have j ust forgot t en, and our egos seem t o prevent us f r om
rememberi ng.
Our vision is cl ouded. Our values are upsi de-down.
Many psychiatrists have talked t o me about feel i ng
t r apped by t hei r pat i ent s. They have lost t he j oy of
hel pi ng.
I remi nd t hem that t hey are spiritual beings, t oo. They
are trapped by their insecurities and by their egos. They,
t oo, need the courage t o take risks and to leap i nt o health
and j oy.
er 77
For we have come by different ways to this place. I
have no feeling that we met before. No deja vu. I
don't think it was you in lavender by the sea as I rode
by in A.D. 1206 or beside me in the border wars.
Or there in the Gallatins, a hundred years ago, lying
with me in the silver-green grass above some mountain
town. I can tell by the natural ease with which you
wear fine clothes and the way your mouth moves
when you speak to waiters in good restaurants. You
have come the way ofcastles and cathedrals, of elegance
and empire.
R O B E R T J AMES WALLER
- J ^ y t he t i me I had fi ni shed count i ng backward f r om ten
t o one, Elizabeth was already in a deep hypnot i c trance.
Her eyes wer e fluttering under their lids. Her body' was
limp, and her breat hi ng had sl owed into a very relaxed
rhyt hm. Her mi nd was now ready for t i me travel.
I t ook her back slowly, this t i me using a peaceful mo u n -
tain stream as a gateway t o t he distant past. She wal ked
across t he stream i nt o a beaut i ful light. Wal ki ng t hr ough
t he light, she emerged in anot her time and anot her place,
in an ancient lifetime.
" I ' m weari ng thin sandals," she observed, after I had
instructed her t o l ook at her feet. "Ther e' s a bi ndi ng j ust
above the ankles. I have a l ong whi t e dress of different
lengths. Over it is a veil-like coveri ng down t o my ankles.
The sleeves are very wi de and end at my elbows. I ' m
119
120 Brian L. Weiss
weari ng golden bracelets at three different levels of my
arms. " She was observing herself vividly and with great
detail.
" My hair is dark br own and long, bel ow my shoul -
ders. . . . My eyes are br own, too. . . . My skin is light
br own. "
" You are a girl," I assumed.
"Yes, " she patiently answered.
"About how old are you?"
"About f our t een. "
" What do you do? Wher e do you live?" I fired at her,
asking t wo questions before she had a chance to answer.
" On the temple gr ounds, " she responded. " I ' m training
to be a healer and to hel p t he priests."
" Do you know the name of this land?" I asked.
"It is Egypt . . . a l ong t i me ago. "
" Do you know t he year?"
" No , " she replied. "I don' t see that . . . but it is very
l ong ago . . . very ol d. "
I ret urned to her memori es and experiences of that
ancient time.
" Ho w did you happen t o receive this training, t o be
a healer and to wor k wi t h t he priests?"
"I was selected by t he priests, j ust as the others were.
We are all chosen, accordi ng to our talents and abili-
ties. . . . The priests know this f r om the time we are very
young. "
I want ed to know mor e about this selection process.
" Ho w do the priests know about your talents? Do they
observe you in school or wi t h your parents?"
" Oh , no, " she correct ed me. " They know intuitively.
They are very wise. They know who has the ability in
numbers and should be an engineer or a count er or a
Only l^ove Is Real
121
treasurer. They know wh o can write and scribe. They
know who has military potential and should be trained
to lead armies. They know who will make the best admi n-
istrators. These will be trained to be governors and offi -
cials. They know t hose wh o possess healing and intuitive
abilities, and these are t rai ned t o be healers and advisers
and even to be priests."
"So the priests deci de what occupations peopl e train
f or , " I summari zed.
"Yes, " she concurred. "Tal ent s and potentials are
divined by t he priests whe n t he child is very young. His
training is t hen set. . . . He has no choi ce. "
"Is this training open t o everyone?"
" Oh , no, " she obj ect ed. " Onl y t o those of t he nobility,
to those related to t he phar aoh. "
" You must be related t o t he pharaoh?"
"Yes, but his family is very large. Even distant cousins
are considered part of t he fami l y. "
"But what of very talented peopl e who are not related?"
I asked, my curiosity causing me to linger at this family
selection system.
" They can get some t rai ni ng, " she again patiently
explained. "But t hey can only progress so far . . . t o be
assistants to the leaders, who are relatives of t he royal
fami l y. "
"Ar e you a relative of t he pharaoh?" I asked.
"A cousin . . . not t oo close. "
"Cl ose enough, " I ut t ered.
"Yes, " she answered.
I deci ded t o move on, even t hough I already knew
that t he patient after Elizabeth had cancelled her appoi nt -
ment that day, so t i me was not hurryi ng me al ong as
much as usual.
122 Brian L. Weiss
" Do you have any family with you?"
"Yes. my brot her. We are very close. He is t wo years
older. He has also been chosen to tram as a healer and
priest and we are t oget her here. Our parents live some
distance away, so it is very good to have my brot her wi t h
me. . . . 1 can see hi m now. "
I risked anot her distraction, l ooki ng for clues t o under-
standing Elizabeth' s relationships. "Look closely at his
face. Look into his eyes. Do you recognize hi m as anybody
in your current life?"
She seemed to be peeri ng into his face. " No , " she said
sadly. "I don' t recognize hi m. "
I had somewhat expect ed her to recognize her beloved
mot her , or perhaps her br ot her or father. But t here was
no identification.
" Go ahead in t i me n o w t o t he next i mport ant event
in that Egyptian girl's life. You can r emember every-
t hi ng. " She went forward in time.
"I am eighteen now. My brot her and I are much mor e
advanced now. He is weari ng a whi t e and gold skirt
that is short. It ends j ust above his knees. . . . He is very
handsome, " she not ed.
" Ho w are you mor e advanced?" I i nqui red, bringing
her focus back to t he training.
" We have many mor e skills. We are wor ki ng wi t h
special healing rods that, when mastered, greatly speed
up the regeneration of tissues and limbs. " She paused for
a few moment s, studying these rods.
" They contain a liquid energy that flows t hr ough the
rods. . . . The energy is concent rat ed at t he poi nt of regen-
eration. . . . You can use this to grow limbs and heal
tissue, even dying or dead tissue."
I was surprised. Even moder n medi ci ne cannot accom-
Only l^ove Is Real 123
pijsb these feats, al t hough nat ure can, as with salamanders
,md ot her lizards, whi ch can regrow detached limbs or
rails. The latest research in traumatic spinal cord injuries
is just now leading to t he begi nni ng of controlled nerve
regeneration, about four t o five t housand years after Eliza-
beth' s wor k wi t h healing rods that could i nduce limb and
tissue regeneration.
She coul d not articulate how the rods wor ked, ot her
than wi t h energy. Elizabeth did not have the vocabulary
or ment al concepts to underst and and explain.
She began to speak again, and the reasons for her lack
of underst andi ng became clear.
"At least that' s what t hey tell me. I am young and a
girl. I have held the rods, but I have never seen t hem wor k.
I have not yet seen t he regenerat i on. . . . My brot her has
seen this. He is allowed, and when he is older he will be
allowed this knowl edge of regeneration. My training will
be ended before that level. I cannot progress t o that level,
for I am a femal e, " she explained.
" He will be al l owed t he knowl edge of regenerat i on,
and you will not ?" I quest i oned.
" That is t r ue, " she comment ed. " He will be allowed
to know hi gher secrets, but I will not . "
She paused, t hen added, "I am not j eal ous of hi m. It
is t he cust om . . . a foolish cust om, because I have mor e
ability t o heal t han many me n. "
Her voice dr opped t o a whisper.
" He will tell me t he secrets anyway. . . . He has pr om-
ised me. He will teach me how the rods wor k, t oo. He
has already explained many things to me. . . . He has told
me they are trying t o revive peopl e who have recently
di ed!"
" Wh o have di ed?" I echoed.
124 Brian L. Weiss
"Yes, but this must be done very qui ckl y, " she added.
" Ho w do they do this?"
"I don' t know. . . . They use several of the rods. Ther e
are special chants. The body must be positioned in a
certain way. Ther e is mor e, but I do not know. . . . Wh e n
my brot her learns, he will tell me. " She ended her expla-
nation.
My logical mi nd arrived at the assumption that t he
peopl e allegedly bei ng revived were not really dead yet
but probably near deat h, like patients recoveri ng f r om
near-deat h experiences. Aft er all, they did not have equi p-
ment t o moni t or brai nwave funct i on in those days. They
coul d not pi npoi nt t he absence of brain activity, whi ch
is our moder n defi ni t i on of death.
My intuitive sense told me t o keep an open mi nd.
Ot her explanations coul d exist, explanations beyond my
current comprehensi on.
Elizabeth was still silent, so I resumed the quest i oni ng.
"Ar e there ot her forms of healing that you do?" I asked
her.
" Ther e are many, " she responded. " On e is wi t h our
hands. We t ouch t he area of t he body that needs t he
healing and send energy directly there . . . t hr ough our
hands. Some don' t even need to t ouch the body. We feel
above the person' s body for areas of heat. We disperse t he
heat and smoot h the energy. The heat must be dispersed at
several levels above t he body, not just the closest," she
explained. She was speaking rapidly now, describing
ancient variations of healing techniques.
"Ot her s can heal mentally. They can see the pr obl em
areas in their minds, and they mentally send energy t o
those spots. I can' t do this yet , " she added, "but I will
learn eventually.
Only l^ove Is Real 125
"Some t ouch the person' s pulse wi t h their second and
third fingers held t oget her and send energy directly into
the fl ow of bl ood. You can reach the internal organs this
way, and you can see the cleansing energy leaving t hrough
the person' s t oes. " Elizabeth cont i nued her rapid and
increasingly technical explanation.
"I am wor ki ng now wi t h put t i ng people i nt o very deep
levels of trance and havi ng t hem also see t he healing as
it occurs, so that t hey compl et e the healing transformation
on the ment al level. We give t hem potions to help t hem
go very deep. " She paused for a moment .
Except for the pot i ons, this last t echni que very much
resembles the hypnot i c visualizations that I and others are
using in t he late t went i et h cent ury to stimulate the healing
process.
"Ar e there mor e met hods?" 1 inquired.
" Th e ones that evoke t he gods are reserved for t he
priests," she answered. "Thes e are forbi dden to me . "
"For bi dden?"
"Yes, because wome n cannot become priests. We can
become healers, and we assist t he priests, but we cannot
do their functions. . . . Oh, some wome n call themselves
priestesses and play musical i nst rument s in the ceremoni es,
but t hey have no powe r . " Wi t h some sarcasm in her
voice, she added, " The y are musicians like I am a healer;
they are hardly priests. Even Hat hor mocks t hem. "
Hat hor was t he Egypt i an goddess of love, mi rt h, and
j oy. She was also t he goddess of festivity and dance. Eliza-
bet h was probably r emember i ng one of Hat hor' s mor e
esoteric functions, that of defender and protectress of
women. Hat hor' s mocker y of these priestesses underl i ned
the empt y grandiosity of their titles.
Elizabeth grew silent again, and as she did, my mi nd
126 Brian L. Weiss
dr ew parallels t o the current time. Glass ceilings seem t o
be as old as t i me itself.
The road t o advancement in this peri od of primitive
Egypt seemed t o be restricted t o only a few. Relatives of
t he pharaoh, who himself was considered half divine,
coul d advance, but female relatives woul d soon bump
i nt o the gender barrier. Mal e relatives of the pharaoh
wer e the privileged few.
Elizabeth was still silent, and I urged her forward. " Go
ahead in time to t he next i mport ant event in that life.
What do you see?"
" My brot her and I are advisers now, " she comment ed,
after progressing a f ew mor e years into the fut ure. " We
stand behi nd the gover nor of this area and we advise hi m.
He is a great administrator and a good military leader,
t oo. But he is impulsive and needs our intuition and i nner
guidance. . . . We hel p t o balance hi m. "
"Are you happy doi ng this?"
"Yes, it is good t o be wi t h my brot her. . . . And the
governor is usually ki nd. He oft en listens t o our
advice. . . . We do our healing wor k also." She seemed
cont ent ed, if not ecstatic. She had not married, so her
brot her was her family. I moved her ahead in t i me.
She was visibly upset now. She began t o cry, t hen
stopped. "I know t oo much for this. I must be strong. It
is not that I fear exile or death. Not at all. But t o leave
my brot her . . . that is hard!" Anot her tear fell.
" What happened?" I asked, somewhat startled at t he
sudden decline in her fortunes.
" The governor' s son became severely ill. He died
before anyt hi ng coul d be done. He knows about our
wor k wi t h regenerat i on and our attempts t o bri ng t he
recently dead back t o life. So he demanded that I bring
Only Loff /s Rra/ 12?
his son back f r om the dead. If I did not, I woul d be sent
to permanent exile. I know that place. Nobody ret urns. "
"And the son?" I asked hesitantly.
" He could not be ret urned. It was not allowed. So I
had to be puni shed. " She was again sad and the tears
welled up once mor e in her eyes.
"It makes no sense, " she said slowly. "I was never
allowed to learn about t he rods. . . . I was never allowed
to acquire the knowl edge of regeneration and revival. My
brot her taught me a little, but not enough. . . . They
di dn' t know he told me anyt hi ng. "
" What happened t o your brot her?"
" He was away, so he was spared. All t he priests wer e
away. Onl y I was around. . . . He ret urned in t i me t o see
me before the exile began. I don' t fear exile or death,
only leaving hi m. . . . Ther e is no choi ce. "
" Ho w l ong are you in exile?" I asked.
" No t very l ong, " she answered. "I know how t o leave
my body. One day I left my body and did not ret urn.
That was my death, for wi t hout the soul, t he body dies."
She had j umped t o that poi nt and was speaking f r om a
hi gher perspective.
"As simple as t hat ?"
" Ther e is no pain, no i nt errupt i on in awareness when
such a death is chosen. That is why I did not fear death.
I knew I could never see my brot her again. I coul d not
do my wor k on that barren island. Ther e was no reason
to stay in physical f or m. The gods underst and. "
She was silent, resting. I knew that her love for her
brot her woul d survive physical death, as woul d her br ot h-
er' s love for her. Love is eternal. Had they met again over
the i nt erveni ng centuries? Woul d they meet again in the
future?
128 Brian L. Weiss
I also knew that this memor y woul d help ease her grief.
Onc e mor e she had f ound herself in the distant past. Her
consciousness, her soul, had survived physical death and
centuries of time to emerge once again, this t i me as Eliza-
bet h. If she could survive t hrough time, so coul d her
mot her . So could all of us. She had not f ound her mot her
in ancient Egypt, but she had f ound a bel oved brot her,
a compani on soul whom she could not recognize in her
current life. At least not yet.
1 like to t hi nk of soul relationships as similar t o a large
tree wi t h a t housand leaves on it. Those leaves that are
on your t wi g are intimately close to you. You may even
share experiences, soul experiences, among yourselves.
Ther e may be t hree or four or five leaves on your twig.
You are also highly and closely related to t he leaves on
t he branch next to yours. They share a c ommon limb.
They are close t o you, but not as close as t he leaves on
your own twig. Similarly, as you ext end farther out al ong
the tree, you are still related t o these ot her leaves or souls,
but not as closely as those in your i mmedi at e proxi mi t y.
You are all part of one tree and one t runk. You can share
experiences. You know each other. But those on your
t wi g are the closest.
Ther e are many ot her trees in this beautiful forest. Each
tree is connect ed t o t he others t hrough t he root system
in t he ground. So even t hough there may be a leaf on a
distant tree that seems quite different f r om you and very
far away, you are still connect ed to that leaf. You are
connect ed to all leaves. But you are t he most closely
connect ed to those on your tree. And even mor e i nt i -
mately connect ed t o those on your branch. And almost
as one wi t h those on your own twig.
Only l^ove Is Real 129
You probably have met the ot her souls farther out on
your tree in previous lifetimes. They may have been in
many different relationships wi t h you. Thei r interactions
may have been ext remel y brief. Even a t hi rt y-mi nut e
encount er could have hel ped you learn a lesson or helped
t hem or the bot h of you, as is usually t he case. One of
these souls may have been t he beggar in the road to wh o m
you gave a heart' s gift, al l owi ng you to ext end your
compassion t o anot her human bei ng and allowing the
recipient t o learn about receiving love and help. You and
the beggar may have never met again in that lifetime, and
yet you are part of t he drama. Your meet i ngs vary in
dur at i onf i ve mi nut es, one hour, a day, a mont h, a
decade, or mor et hi s is how souls relate. Rel at i onshi ps
are not measured in t i me but in lessons learned.
78
How interesting it would be to write the story of the
experiences in this life of a man who killed himself
in his previous life; how he now stumbles against the
very demands which had offered themselves before,
until he arrives at the realization that he must fulfil
those demands. . . . The deeds of the preceding life
give direction to the present life.
TOLS TOY
e felt the message sear itself into his soul. The living
words pressed themselves forever into his being. As he rested
after leaving his splattered body, we bot h pondered the
different levels of meani ng of these outwardly simple words.
The session had begun in t he usual way. I regressed
Pedro using a rapid i nduct i on, and he slipped quickly i nt o
a deeply tranquil state. His breat hi ng became deep and
even, and his muscles relaxed completely. His mi nd,
focused by the hypnosis, penet rat ed the cust omary limits
of space and t i me, and he r emember ed events that had
happened far before his birth as Pedro.
" I ' m weari ng br own shoes, " he observed as he emerged
in the physical confi nes of a previous incarnation.
"They' r e old and battered. . . . I' m a man ar ound forty
years ol d, " he added wi t hout my proddi ng. "Bal di ng on
the t op wi t h hair begi nni ng to gray. My sideburns and
beard are gray already. My beard is short, and it' s shaved
pretty far down my cheeks. "
130
Only l^ove Is Real 131
He was paying considerable at t ent i on t o mi nor details.
I appreciated t he accuracy of his description, but I was
also aware of t i me slipping by.
" Go ahead, " I advised. "Fi nd out what you' r e doi ng
in this life. Go t o t he next significant event . "
" My glasses are small and wi r e- r i mmed, " he not ed,
still occupi ed wi t h physical features. " My nose is wi de,
and my skin is very pal e. "
It is not unusual for a hypnot i zed patient t o be resistant
to my suggestions. I have learned that you can' t always
gui de t he patient; somet i mes t he patient has t o guide you.
" Wha t do you do in this life?" I asked.
" I ' m a doct or , " he answered quickly, "a count ry doc-
tor. I wor k very hard. The peopl e are mostly poor, but
I get by. They are good peopl e overall."
" Do you know t he name of t he place wher e you live?"
"I believe it is in this count ry, in Ohi o. . . . "
" Do you know t he year?"
"Lat e ei ght een-hundreds, I t hi nk. "
" And your name?" I delicately i nqui red.
" Thomas . . . my name is Thomas . "
" Do you have a last name?"
"I t starts wi t h a D . . . Di xon or Diggins or somet hi ng
like that. . . . I don' t feel wel l , " he added.
"What ' s wr ong?"
"I feel very sad . . . very sad. I don' t want to go on
living!" He had j umpe d ahead to a t i me of crisis.
" Wha t is maki ng you so sad?" I i nqui red.
"I have been despondent bef or e, " he clarified. "It
comes and goes, but this is t he worst. It's never been this
bad before. The bot h things are just overwhel mi ng. . . .
I can' t go on this way. "
" What ' bot h t hi ngs' ?" I echoed.
132 Brian L. Weiss
" My patient died. The fever killed hi m. They trusted
me to save hi m. They put their faith in me, and I coul dn' t .
I' ve let t hem down. . . . No w they have no husband, no
father. They will have t o struggle to survive. . . . I coul dn' t
save hi m! "
"Somet i mes patients die despite our best efforts. Espe-
cially in t he ei ght een- hundr eds, " I added, paradoxically
at t empt i ng to ease his guilt and despair over an event that
had occurred a cent ury ago. I could not alter the event,
only his attitude t owar d it. I knew that Thomas had
already experi enced and acted upon his feelings. What
was done was done. But I could still help Pedro, by
hel pi ng hi m t o underst and, by helping hi m t o see f r om
a hi gher and mor e det ached perspective.
He was silent. I hoped that I had not j arred hi m f r om
that doct or' s lifetime by doi ng therapy ai med at a level
of underst andi ng beyond Thomas. I had not even f ound
out the ot her event that had precipitated his depression.
" Wha t is the ot her t hi ng causing your sadness?" I asked,
t ryi ng to put the geni e back i nt o the bottle.
" My wife has left me , " he answered. I was relieved t o
be talking t o Thomas again.
"She has left you?" I repeated, encouragi ng hi m t o
elaborate.
"Yes, " he answered sadly. " Ou r life was t oo difficult.
We coul dn' t even have children. She went back t o her
family in Boston. . . . I ' m very ashamed. . . . I coul dn' t
help her. I coul dn' t make her happy. "
I did not even at t empt therapy wi t h his hi gher mi nd
at this time. Instead, I asked Thomas to move ahead in
t i me to the next i mport ant event in that life. We could
do the therapy later, as he revi ewed this life whi l e still in
Only l^ove Is Real 133
,he hypnot i zed state, or even later, after he emerged f r om
the hypnosis.
'I have a gun, " he explained. " I ' m goi ng t o shoot
myself and end this mi sery!"
I suppressed the urge t o ask hi m why he chose a gun
and not one of the many medicines or poisons available
to a doct or of that t i me. He had made his decision at
least a century ago. The quest i on itself was probably my
way of intellectualizing his despair, despair of such magni -
tude as t o drive hi m t o self-annihilation.
" Wha t happens next ?" I asked instead.
"I ' ve done i t , " he said simply. "I ' ve shot myself in t he
mout h, and now I can see my body. . . . So much blood!
So much bl ood!" He had already left his body and was
seeing it at a distance.
" Ho w do you feel now?" I asked.
"Conf used. . . . I ' m still sad. . . . I ' m so t i red, " he
answered. "But I can' t rest. No t yet. . . . Someone is here
for me . "
" Wh o is t here?"
"I don' t know. Someone very i mport ant . He has some-
t hi ng to tell me . "
" Wha t does he tell you?"
" That I have lived a good life, until the end. I should
not have ended my life. Yet he seems t o know I woul d
do what I di d. "
"Is there mor e?" I asked, pushi ng this paradox aside.
The answer came directly at me now, in a mor e power f ul
voice. Was this Thomas, or Pedro, or someone else? I
flashed back moment ari l y t o the Masters who spoke
t hr ough Cat heri ne. Except this was years later, and Cat h-
erine was not here.
134 Brian L. Weiss
"I t is the reachi ng out wi t h love to help anot her that
is i mport ant , not t he results. Reach out wi t h love. That
is all you need t o do. Love one another. The results of
reaching out wi t h love are not the results you look for.
Results to t he physical body. You must heal t he hearts
of men. "
Bot h physicians, Thomas and I, were bei ng addressed,
and we bot h listened raptly as the message cont i nued.
The voice was mor e powerful , more sure, mor e didactic
than Pedro' s.
"I will teach you h o w t o heal the hearts of men. You
will understand. Love one another!"
We could bot h feel t he force of these words as they
wer e impressed i nt o our bei ng. The words wer e alive.
We coul d never forget t hem.
Later, Pedro told me that he vividly saw and heard
everyt hi ng that this l umi nous visitor communi cat ed
wor ds that danced wi t h light as they bri dged the space
bet ween t hem.
I had heard t he same words. I was sure t hey wer e also
meant for me. I mpor t ant lessons leapt at me. Reach out
wi t h love and compassion, and do not wor r y so much
about out comes. Do not at t empt to end your life before
its natural time. A hi gher wi sdom deals wi t h out comes
and knows t he t i me for all things. Free will and destiny
coexist. Do not measure healing by physical results. Heal -
i ng occurs at many levels, not just the physical, and real
healing must occur at t he heart level. Somehow I woul d
learn about healing t he hearts of men. Most of all: Love
one anot her. Timeless wi sdom, easily grasped but prac-
ticed by only a few.
My mi nd drifted back to Pedro. Themes of separation
and loss plagued his lifetimes. This time t hey had led hi m
Only l^ove Is Real 135
t o suicide. He had been war ned about not endi ng a life
premat urel y. But losses wer e occurri ng anew, and grief
had ret urned. Woul d he r emember or woul d hopeless
despair overtake hi m once again?
Ho w devastating it is t o be a healer who cannot heal
his patient. Elizabeth' s "fai l ure" in ancient Egypt. Pedro' s
despair as Thomas, t he Ohi o physician. My own painful
experiences as a healer.
My first frustration as a healer who coul d not stop
t he onslaught of a rampagi ng illness occurred mor e t han
t went y-fi ve years ago dur i ng my very first clinical rot at i on
as a t hi rd-year st udent at Yale Medi cal School. I began
wi t h pediatrics, and I was assigned to Danny, a seven-
year-ol d boy wi t h a large Wi l ms' t umor . Thi s is a malig-
nant t umor of t he ki dney that occurs almost exclusively
in chi l dhood. The younger the child, the bet t er t he pr og-
nosis. Seven was not consi dered young for this cancer.
Danny was t he first real patient in my medical career.
Pri or t o hi m, all of my experi ence had been in classrooms,
lecture halls, laboratories, and sitting for endless hours in
front of my t ext books. Th e third year began our clinical
experi ence. We wer e assigned t o hospital wards wi t h real
patients. Enough facts and theory. The t i me for practical
application had arrived.
I had to draw Danny' s bl ood for t he laboratory tests,
and I t ook care of all t he mi nor procedures, called "scut
wor k" by mor e advanced practitioners but very meani ng-
ful to third-year medi cal students.
Danny was a wonder f ul child, but our bond was even
stronger and mor e special because he was my first patient.
Danny fought heroically. He had lost his hair f r om the
power f ul but toxic chemot her apy treatments. His belly
136 Brian L. Weiss
was severely bloated. Yet he was rallying, and his parents
and I t ook hope. A good percentage of children were
able to recover f r om this type of malignancy at that time.
I was the youngest member of the t reat ment team. The
medical student usually knew less clinical medi ci ne than
the intern, resident, or at t endi ng physician, all of whom
were incredibly busy wi t h their wor k. On t he ot her hand,
the medical student had mor e time to spend wi t h the
patient and family. In general, the medical st udent also
placed a hi gher priority on getting to know the patient
and his family. We woul d customarily be assigned to talk
t o the family or t o convey messages to t he patient.
Danny was my main patient, and I liked hi m a lot. I
spent many hours sitting on t he side of his bed, playing
games, reading stories, or j ust talking. I admi red his cour -
age. I also spent t i me wi t h his parents, frequent l y in Dan-
ny' s dark and drab hospital r oom. We even ate t oget her
in the cafeteria. They were fri ght ened but also encouraged
by his rally.
Suddenly, Danny t ook a drastic t urn for the worse. A
dangerous respiratory infection over whel med his weak-
ened i mmune system. He had difficulty breathing, and
his usually bri ght eyes t urned dull and glazed. I was
shunt ed aside by t he mor e senior members of the medical
team. Antibiotics were started and stopped and changed,
t o no avail. Danny slid downhi l l . I stayed wi t h his mot her
and father, feeling helpless and horrified. The illness won.
Danny died.
I was t oo upset to spend mor e time wi t h his parents,
beyond a brief wor d and a hug. I identified wi t h their
pain as much as I could at that time. Thr ee years later,
when my own son died in a hospital, I underst ood even
more. But at the time, I felt some vague responsibility
Only l^ove Is Real 137
for his death, as if I shoul d have done somet hi ng, anything,
to avert it.
The "fai l ure" to heal strikes at the very soul of every
healer. I underst ood Thomas' s despair.
Far fewer psychiatric patients die of their illnesses. Yet
the inability to help a severely disturbed patient evokes
chords of the same frustration and sense of helplessness.
Wh e n I was chai rman of t he Psychiatry Depar t ment
at Mount Sinai, I treated a beautiful and talented woma n
in her thirties. A successful career woman, she had recently
ent ered i nt o a happy marriage. Gradually she became
paranoi d, and t he paranoia was worseni ng despite medi -
cines, despite therapy, despite every i nt ervent i on. Nei t her
I nor any consultant I called in coul d det er mi ne why,
because her course and sympt oms and tests wer e very
atypical for schizophrenia, mania, or any ot her of the
usual psychoses. She had begun to deteriorate soon after
a trip t o t he Far East, and one test showed ext remel y high
antibodies to a parasite. Still, no medical or psychiatric
t reat ment helped, and she gradually worsened.
Again, I had felt t he pangs of helplessness, t he frustration
of t he healer who coul d not heal.
To reach out wi t h love, t o do your best and not be
so concerned wi t h results or out comes, that is t he answer.
Thi s simple concept , ri ngi ng so t rue t o me, is t he balm
of underst andi ng that healers need. In a sense, I had
reached out wi t h l ove t o Danny, and he had reached back
to me.
&havter 19
Or ever the knightly years were gone
With the old world to the grave,
I was a King in Babylon
And you were a Christian Slave.
I saw, I took, I cast you by,
1 bent and broke your pride . . .
And a myriad suns have set and shone
Since then upon the grave
Decreed by the King in Babylon
To her that had been his Slave.
7Tie pride I trampled is now my scathe,
For it tramples me again.
The old resentment lasts like death,
For you love, yet you refrain.
I break my heart on your hard unfaith,
And I break my heart in vain.
WI LLI AM ERNES T HENLEY
(Elizabeth was frustrated and despondent . Her new rela-
tionship had lasted for only t wo dates. Bob was avoiding
her. She had known hi m casually for mor e than a year,
t hrough work. He was successful and handsome and
shared many of her interests. He told her that his l ong-
term affair wi t h a marri ed woman had j ust ended. Bob
had had several short -t erm relationships wi t h other
women, but there always seemed to be somet hi ng lacking
in these women. Accordi ng t o hi m, they woul d turn out
138
Only l^ove Is Real 139
to be superficial or unintelligent or not share his values,
and he woul d end the relationships. His married lover
woul d always accept hi m back. Her husband was rich,
but their relationship lacked passion. She woul d not leave
her husband and their affluent life.
' You' r e different f r om the ot hers, " Bob swore t o Eliza-
beth. " We have so much mor e in c ommon. " He told
Elizabeth that she was mor e intelligent t han any of the
others, mor e beautiful, that he knew their relationship
coul d last.
Elizabeth convi nced herself that Bob was right. " He
was there all the t i me, and 1 never really not i ced, " she
t hought . "Somet i mes t he answer is right in front of your
eyes and you never see i t . "
She forgot that t he reason she never really not i ced Bob
and his bl ond good looks was that she never felt a chemi s-
try wi t h hi m. She was lonely and desperate for a man' s
arms. She listened t o her head and i gnored her heart' s
warni ng.
Thei r first date was very promising. They went out for
a casual di nner, a good movi e, and intimate conversation
while wat chi ng t he wi nd- whi pped waves on the beach
under the cool light of a nearly full moon. "I coul d fall
in love wi t h you, " he told her, teasing her wi t h a promi se
that woul d never be fulfilled. Her head carefully heard
every wor d, i gnori ng the lack of response f r om her heart.
The second date seemed fine. She had a good time,
and she sensed that he did, too. His affection seemed
genui ne, and he hi nt ed at sex in the fut ure. But he never
called back.
Finally she called hi m. He said that he want ed t o see
her again but that he was very busy, and it was difficult
to pick an exact t i me. He assured her he had not had a
140 Brian L. Weiss
change of heart. He did want to see her; he j ust coul dn' t
tell her when.
" Wh y do I always pick losers?" she asked me. "What ' s
wr ong wi t h me?"
" You don' t pick losers," I told her. "Her e' s a handsome
and successful man who told you he was interested and
available. Don' t bl ame yoursel f. "
I di dn' t say so, but inwardly I knew she was right. She
was picking losers, in this case an emot i onal loser. It t urned
out he could not leave t he safety of his marri ed lover.
He chose t o remai n dependent and "safe. " Elizabeth
became t he vi ct i m of his fear and his lack of courage.
Bet t er now t han later, I t hought . Elizabeth was strong;
she woul d recover.
Elizabeth asked if we still had time to at t empt a regres-
sion. She could sense somet hi ng i mport ant was near the
surface, and she was anxious t o find it, so we proceeded.
Aft er she emer ged in an ancient past life, I was not
sure we had made the right decision.
She saw a land of broad, rolling plains and flat-topped
hills. A land of yaklike animals and small agile horses, of
large r ounded tents and nomadi c wanderers. It was a land
of passion, and it was a land of violence.
Her husband was away wi t h most of t he ot her men,
hunt i ng or raiding. The enemy struck, flying in on waves
of horses against t he depleted defenders. He r husband' s
parents were killed first, hacked down by broad, razor-
sharp swords. Her baby was killed next, gut t ed by a spear.
A shudder convulsed her spirit. She want ed to die, t oo,
but such was not her destiny. Capt ur ed by the young
warriors because of her beauty, she became t he propert y
of the strongest of t he i nvadi ng horde. A f ew ot her young
wome n were also spared.
Only l^ove Is Real 141
"Let me die!" she pleaded to her captor, but he woul d
not allow it.
" You are mi ne now, " he said simply. " You will live
m my tent, and you will be my wi f e. "
Except for her husband, wh o m she woul d never see
again, all her loved ones wer e dead. She had no choice.
She at t empt ed t o escape several times, only t o be quickly
caught. Her suicide at t empt s were similarly t hwart ed.
She hardened herself, and her depression t ur ned into
a constant smol deri ng anger, devouri ng her capacity to
love. Her spirit wi t her ed, and she merely existed, a hard-
ened heart trapped in a living body. No jail coul d be as
confi ni ng or as cruel.
"Let ' s go back in t i me, " I suggested. "Let ' s go back
before your village was rai ded. " I count ed back f r om
t hree to one.
" Wha t do you see?" I asked.
He r face was n o w serene and peaceful as she r emem-
bered t he early years, gr owi ng up, l aughi ng and playing
wi t h t he man she woul d eventually marry. She l oved this
chi l dhood fri end dearly, and he ret urned this love t o her.
She was at peace.
" Do you recogni ze this man you married? Look into
his eyes. "
" No , I don' t , " she finally answered.
"Look at the others in your village. Do you recognize
anyone?"
She l ooked carefully at her relatives and friends in that
lifetime.
"Yes . . . yes, my mot her is t here!" Elizabeth gasped
happily. "She is t he mot her of my husband. We are very
close. Whe n my own mot her died, she t ook me in as a
daughter. I recognize her!"
142 Brian L. Weiss
" Do you recognize anyone else?" I i nqui red.
"She lives in the largest tent, wi t h the flags and whi t e
feathers, " she answered, i gnori ng my question.
Her face darkened.
" They killed her, t oo! " she lamented, j umpi ng back
to the massacre.
" Wh o killed her? Wher e did they come f r om?"
"Fr om the east, f r om beyond the wall. . . . Thi s is wher e
t hey have taken me . "
" Do you know the name of their l and?"
She pondered this question. " No. It seems to be some-
wher e in Asia, in t he nor t her n part. Maybe t he west of
Chi na. . . . We have oriental features. "
"It ' s okay, " I responded. "Let' s move ahead in time
wi t hi n that lifetime. What happens to you?"
"I was finally allowed t o kill myself, after I had grown
older and was not so attractive anymor e, " she answered,
wi t hout much emot i on. "I think they grew tired of me, "
she added.
She was floating now, having left her body.
I asked her t o revi ew her life. " What do you see? What
wer e the lessons? What did you learn?"
Elizabeth was silent for a f ew moment s. And t hen she
answered, "I learned many things. I learned of anger and
t he foolishness of hol di ng on t o anger. I coul d have
wor ked wi t h t he younger children, with t he old ones,
wi t h the sick ones, in the enemy' s t own. I coul d have
taught t hem. . . . I coul d have loved t hem . . . but I never
allowed myself to love. I never allowed myself to let my
anger dissipate. I never allowed myself to open my heart
once again. And these children, at least, were innocent.
They wer e souls ent eri ng i nt o this worl d. They had noth-
ing t o do wi t h t he raid, wi t h the deaths of my l oved ones.
Only Love Is Real
143
And yet I blamed t hem, too. I carried the anger even to
the new generations, and this is foolish. It could hurt
t hem, but most of all it harmed me. . . . I never permi t t ed
myself to love agai n. " She paused. "And I had much love
to gi ve. "
She paused again and t hen seemed t o speak f r om an
even higher source.
"Love is like a fluid," she began. "It fills up crevices.
It fills empt y spaces of its own accord. It is we, it is peopl e
who stop it by erect i ng false barriers. And when love
cannot fill our hearts and our minds, when we are di scon-
nected f r om our souls, whi ch consist of love, t hen we all
go crazy. "
I considered her words. I knew that love was i mport ant ,
perhaps even t he most i mport ant t hi ng in t he worl d. But
it had never dawned on me that the absence of love could
cause us to lose our mi nds.
I r emember ed t he famous monkey experi ment s of t he
psychologist, Dr . Harry Har l ow, in whi ch young monkeys
deprived of t ouchi ng, of nurt uri ng, of love became com-
pletely asocial, physically ill, or even died. They could
not survive intact wi t hout it. Loving is not an opt i on. It
is a necessity.
I t urned back to Elizabeth. "Look ahead in t i me. Ho w
does what you l earned t hen affect you now? And how
can this learning, how can this r emember i ng, help you
in your current life t o feel happier, mor e peaceful, mor e
loving?"
"I must learn to let go of anger, to not hol d it in, to
recognize it, recogni ze its roots and let it go. I must feel
free to love, to not hol d back, and yet I still search. I
haven' t f ound someone t o love completely, uncondi t i on-
ally. Ther e always seems t o be a pr obl em. "
144 Brian L. Weiss
She fell silent for half a mi nut e. Suddenl y she was
speaking wi t h a voice much deeper and slower than usual.
The r oom felt very cold.
" God is one, " she began. She struggled for words. "It
is all one vibration, one energy. The only difference is
the rate of vibration. So God and peopl e and rocks have
the same relationship as steam and wat er and ice Every-
thing, all that is, is made up of the one. Love breaks down
t he barriers and creates unity. That whi ch creates barriers
and creates separateness and differences is ignorance. You
must teach t hem these t hi ngs. "
That was the end of t he message. Elizabeth was resting.
I t hought of Cat heri ne' s messages, whi ch seemed so
similar to Elizabeth' s. Even t he r oom felt cold whe n Cat h-
erine woul d relay these messages, much as t he r oom felt
cold wi t h Elizabeth. I ponder ed her words. Heal i ng is
t he act of bri ngi ng t oget her, removi ng the barriers. Sepa-
ration is what causes harm. Wh y is it so difficult for peopl e
to grasp this concept ?
Al t hough I have conduct ed mor e than a t housand i ndi -
vidual past-life regressions wi t h my patients and many
mor e in groups, I have had only a half dozen of these
experiences myself. I have had some remembrances in
vivid dreams and dur i ng a shiatsu, or acupressure, treat-
ment . Some of these are described in my earlier books.
Wh e n my wife, Carol e, finished a course in hypnot her -
apy to add to her skills as a social worker, she conduct ed
a f ew past-life regression sessions wi t h me as the patient.
I want ed to experi ence this wi t h someone wh o m I trusted
and who was well trained.
I had been practicing medi t at i on for years, and I went
under deeply and quickly. Whe n the memones started
Only Love Is Real 145
to flood i nt o my mi nd, they were primarily visual and
quite vivid, like my dr eam images.
I could see myself as a young man f r om a wealthy
Jewi sh family in Alexandria, around the t i me of Christ.
Our communi t y, I s omehow knew, hel ped to finance
t he huge golden doors of t he Great Templ e in Jerusalem.
My studies i ncl uded Gr eek and the phi l osophy of the
ancient Greeks, especially the followers of Plato and Aris-
totle.
I r emember ed one fragment of my life as that young
man, when I at t empt ed to augment my classical educat i on
by traveling among t he clandestine desert communi t i es
in the sout hern deserts and caves of Palestine and the
nort h of Egypt. Each communi t y was a type of learning
center, usually of mystical and esoteric knowl edge. Some
of these probably wer e Essene villages.
I traveled very simply, carrying only a little f ood and
some clothes. Just about everyt hi ng I needed was provi ded
for me along t he way. My family had money, and we
were known t o these peoples.
The spiritual knowl edge I was acquiring was exciting
and accelerated, and I enj oyed the j our ney.
For several weeks al ong the way f r om communi t y to
communi t y, I was j oi ned by a man about my age. He
was taller than I and had intense br own eyes. We bot h
wor e robes and had cloths on our heads. He emanat ed
peace, and as we studied t oget her wi t h the wise men of
the villages, he soaked up the teachings much mor e
quickly than I. Aft erward, he woul d teach me as we
camped t oget her by desert fires.
Aft er a f ew weeks, we separated. I went to study at a
small synagogue near t he Great Pyramid, and he went to
the west.
146 Brian L. Weiss
Many of my patients, i ncl udi ng Elizabeth and Pedro,
have r emember ed lives in the area of anci ent Palestine.
Many have r emember ed Egypt.
For me, as for t hem, t he images seemed extremely
vivid and quite real.
2 0
O youth or young man, who fancy that you are
neglected by the Gods, know that if you become worse
you shall go to the worse souls, or if better to the
better, and in every succession of life and death you
will do and suffer what like may fitly suffer at the
hands of like. This is the justice of heaven.
PLATO
rv?
omet i mes life' s most significant events are upon you
before you are aware of t hem, like the silent approach of
a j ungl e cat. Ho w coul d you not have not i ced somet hi ng
of such magni t ude? Th e camoufl age is psychological.
Denial, the act of not seeing what is right before your
eyes, because you really don' t want t o see, is the greatest
disguise. Add in fatigue, distractions, rationalizations,
mental escape, and all t he ot her businesses of the mi nd
that get in t he way. Fort unat el y destiny' s persistence can
pierce the disguises and distinguish that whi ch you need
to see, the f or egr ound emergi ng f r om t he' backgr ound,
like mastering one of those magi c-eye pictures.
Over the past fi ft een years, I have oft en treated couples
or families who have discovered each ot her t oget her in
past lives. Somet i mes I have regressed couples who simul-
taneously and for the first t i me have f ound themselves
interacting in t he same pri or lifetime. These revelations are
oft en shocking to the coupl e. They have not experienced
147
148 Brian L. Weiss
anyt hi ng like this before. They are silent whi l e the scenes
are unfol di ng in my psychiatric office. It is only afterward,
after emergi ng f r om the relaxed, hypnot i c state, that they
first discover t hey have been wat chi ng t he same scenes,
feeling the same emot i ons. It is only t hen that I also
become aware of their past connections.
But wi t h Elizabeth and Pedro, everyt hi ng was back-
ward. Thei r lives, and their lifetimes, wer e unfol di ng
i ndependent l y and quite separately, in my office. They
did not know each ot her. They had never met . They
were f r om different countries and cultures. They came
to t he office on different days. Seeing t hem bot h separately
and never even suspecting a link bet ween t hem, I did
not make the connect i on. They had l oved each ot her and
lost each ot her across lifetimes.
Why di dn' t I see it before? Was it even my destiny?
Am I supposed t o be some cosmic mat chmaker? Was I
distracted, fatigued, in denial? Was I rationalizing away
"coi nci dences"? Or was I right on schedule, the idea
dawni ng at its sunrise, t he way it was pl anned all along.
It came t o me one evening. "El i ?" I had heard it f r om
Elizabeth, weeks before, in my office.
Earlier that day, Pedr o coul d not r emember his name.
In a hypnot i c trance, he had emerged in an ancient life-
time, one he had previously r emember ed in t he office.
In that lifetime, he had died after bei ng dragged by leather-
clad soldiers. His life ebbed away as his head rested in his
bel oved daughter' s lap, and she rocked rhythmically with
despair.
Perhaps t here was mor e to learn f r om that time. Once
again, he r emember ed dying in her arms, his life fading
away. I asked hi m to l ook at her closely, to look deeply
Only Love Is Real 149
into her eyes and t o see if he recognized her as someone
in his current life.
" No , " he sadly answered. "I don' t know her . "
" Do you know your name?" I asked, ret urni ng his
attention compl et el y t o that ancient lifetime in Palestine.
He ponder ed this question. " No , " he finally said.
"I will tap you on t he forehead as I count backward
f r om three t o one. Let your name j ust pop into your
mi nd, into your awareness. What ever name comes to you
is fine."
No name popped i nt o his mi nd.
"I don' t know my name. Not hi ng comes t o me! "
But somet hi ng came t o me, poppi ng i nt o my mi nd
like a silent explosion, suddenly clear and vivid.
"El i , " I said aloud. "Is your name Eli?"
" Ho w do you know that?" he responded f r om the
ancient depths. " That is my name. Some call me Elihu,
and some call me Eli. . . . Ho w do you know? Wer e you
there, t oo?"
"I don' t know, " I answered truthfully. "It just came
to me. "
I was very surprised at the whol e situation. Ho w did I
know? I have had psychic or intuitive flashes before, but
not oft en. Thi s felt as if I were remembering somet hi ng
rather than recei vi ng a psychic message. Remember i ng
f r om when? I coul d not place it. My mi nd stretched to
r emember , but I coul d not .
I knew f r om experi ence that I should stop trying to
remember. Let it go, get on with t he day, t he answer
woul d probably arrive spontaneously in a while.
An i mport ant piece of some strange puzzle was missing.
I coul d feel its absence, hi nt i ng at a crucial connect i on
150 Brian L. Weiss
still to be found. But a connect i on to what? I tried, not
very successfully, to concent rat e on ot her things.
Later that eveni ng, t he puzzle piece arrived suddenly
and very softly in my mi nd. All at once, I was aware of
it.
It was Elizabeth. About t wo mont hs ago, she had
recount ed a tragic but t ouchi ng lifetime as a potter' s
daught er in ancient Palestine. Her father had been killed
"accidentally" by Ro ma n soldiers after t hey dragged hi m
around f r om t he back of a horse. The soldiers had not
really cared what happened to hi m. His mangl ed body,
his bleeding head, had been cradled by his daught er as
he died in the dusty street.
She had r emember ed his name in that lifetime. His
name was Eli.
My mi nd was wor ki ng quickly now. The details of
the t wo Palestinian lifetimes fit t oget her. Pedro' s and
Elizabeth' s memori es of that time meshed perfectly. Physi-
cal descriptions, events, and names were the same. Father
and daughter.
I have wor ked wi t h many people, usually couples, who
have f ound themselves t oget her in previous lives. Many
have recognized their soul compani ons, traveling t oget her
t hrough time t o be uni t ed once again in t he current
lifetime.
Never before had I encount ered soulmates who had
not yet met in t he present time. In this case, soulmates
who had traveled nearly t wo thousand years to be t oget her
again. They had come all this way. They wer e wi t hi n
inches and mi nut es of each other, but t hey had not yet
connect ed.
At home, wi t h their charts filed away in my office, I
tried to r emember if they had shared ot her lifetimes. No,
Only Love Is Real 151
not as monks. On e story but not t wo, at least not yet.
Not on t he India trading routes, not in the mangrove
swamps of Florida, not in the malarial Spanish Americas,
not so far in Ireland. These were the onl y lifetimes I coul d
remember.
Anot her t hought dawned. Perhaps t hey had been
together in some or all of those times but had not recog-
nized each ot her, because they had not met in t he present.
There was no face, no name, no l andmark in the present
life, no one t o connect t o the peopl e in previ ous incarna-
tions.
Then I r emember ed Elizabeth' s west ern Chi na, the
t i mewor n sweepi ng plains wher e her peopl e wer e massa-
cred and wher e she and a f ew ot her young women were
captured. On these same plains, whi ch Pedr o pi npoi nt ed
as Mongol i a, he had ret urned to fi nd his family, his kin,
his people destroyed.
Pedro and I had assumed that his young wi fe had been
killed amid t he chaos, destruction, and despair described
in his recall. She had not. She had been captured and
taken away for t he rest of a lifetime, never t o be held
again in the st rong arms of her Mongol husband.
No w those arms had ret urned t hr ough t he hazardous
mists of t i me t o hol d her again, t o hug her sweetly to his
breast. But t hey did not know. Onl y I knew.
Father and daught er. Chi l dhood lovers. Husband and
wife. How many mor e times t hr oughout history had they
shared their lives and their love?
They were t oget her again, but t hey di dn' t know it.
Bot h were lonely, bot h suffering in their way. Bot h were
starving, and yet a feast had been set before t hem, a feast
they could not yet smell or taste.
I was severely constrained by the "l aws" of psychiatry,
152 Brian L. Weiss
if not the mor e subtle rules of karma. The strictest of t he
laws is that of privacy or confidentiality. If psychiatry were
a religion, breachi ng a patient' s confidentiality woul d be
one of its cardinal sins. At the least t he breach coul d
constitute malpractice. I coul d not tell Pedro about Eliza-
bet h, nor Elizabeth about Pedro. What ever t he karma or
spiritual consequences of i nt erveni ng in anot her' s free
will, t he consequences of violating psychiatry' s mam law
wer e quite clear.
The spiritual consequences woul d not have det erred
me. I could i nt roduce t hem and let destiny take its course.
The psychiatric consequences stopped me cold.
Wha t if I wer e wr ong? What if a rel at i onshi p bet ween
t hem began, soured, and ended badly? The r e coul d be
anger and bitterness. Ho w woul d this reflect back on
t hei r feelings about me as t hei r t rust ed therapist? Wo u l d
t hei r clinical i mpr ovement unravel? Wo u l d all t hei r
good t her apeut i c wor k be undone? Ther e wer e defi ni t e
risks.
I also had t o exami ne my own subconscious motives.
Was my need t o see my patients become happi er and
healthier, to find peace and love in their lives, affecting
my j udgment now? Wer e my own needs urgi ng me to
cross the boundary of psychiatric ethics?
The easy choi ce woul d be to leave well enough alone,
t o say not hi ng. No har m done, no consequences. Wh e n
in doubt , do no harm.
Whet her or not to wri t e Many Lives, Many Masters was
a similar and very difficult decision. Wr i t i ng my first book
endangered my entire professional career. Aft er four years
of hesitation, I had deci ded to write it.
Once again, I chose t o take the risk. I woul d i nt ervene.
I woul d try to nudge destmv along. As a concession to
Only Love Is Real 153
my training and t o my fears, I woul d do it as carefully
and as subtly as possible.
The scenes and details of specific historical epochs
r emember ed by Elizabeth, Pedro, and many of my ot her
patients are very similar to each ot her. These images are
not necessarily like t he ones we learned in Sunday school,
f r om history books, or f r om television.
They are similar because they come f r om actual me mo-
ries. Carolina Gomez, t he f or mer Miss Col ombi a and first
r unner - up in t he 1994 Miss Uni verse pageant, r emem-
bered in one regression bei ng a naked man pulled t o his
death by Ro ma n horses. This death is similar to one
r emember ed by Pedro. A f ew ot her patients have also
r emember ed hor se- dr awn deaths, not only in Roma n
times but, unfort unat el y, in many ot her cultures as well.
A patient of mi ne f r om Col or ado r emember ed bei ng
stolen f r om her Nat i ve Ameri can tribe and never seeing
her family again. She eventually escaped, but she died in
the equivalent of a ment al ward in t he Ol d West. Ho w
similar this is t o Elizabeth' s experi ence in Asia.
The t heme of separation and loss is a c ommon one in
past-life regressions. We are all seeking t o heal our psychic
wounds. Thi s need t o heal emphasizes t he r emember i ng
of old traumas, whi ch have caused our pain and symptoms,
rather than t he r emember i ng of serene and peaceful times,
whi ch have not left scars.
I occasionally wor k wi t h t wo or mor e peopl e at the
same time. Wh e n I do this, I do not have either of t hem
speak because t hey mi ght disturb each ot her. Recent l y
in my office I regressed a couple simultaneously. Thei r
silent regression t ook up the entire session, and we had
no time t o revi ew their experiences.
154 Brian L. Weiss
The couple left t he office and began t o compare notes.
Incredibly, they had bot h experi enced a lifetime t oget her.
In his lifetime he was a British officer in the thirteen
colonies, and in hers she was a woman who lived there.
They met and fell deeply in love. He was recalled to
England and never again ret urned t o visit his love. She
was devastated by t he loss, and yet t here was not hi ng
either one could do about it. Colonial society and the
British military fol l owed strict rules and customs.
They bot h saw and described t he colonial woman in
t he same ant i que clothes. They bot h described the ship
on whi ch he had left t he colonies t o ret urn t o Engl and
and the tearful, sad part i ng that occurred at that time. All
the details of their recall mat ched.
Thei r memori es also illustrated probl ems in their cur-
rent life relationship. On e maj or pr obl em was her nearly
obsessive fear of separation f r om him and his constant
need in ret urn to reassure her that he was not goi ng t o
leave her. Her fear and his need had no basis in the reality
of their current relationship. The pattern had its roots in
colonial times.
Ot her therapists per f or mi ng past-life regressions are
fi ndi ng the same results. Traumas arise mor e frequent l y
than peaceful memori es. Deat h scenes are i mport ant
because they are of t en traumatic. Lifetimes seem familiar
and i mport ant scenes seem similar because the same
t hemes and the same inventions of man have arisen at all
times in all cultures.
" The thing that hath been, it is that whi ch shall be;
and that whi ch is done is that whi ch shall be done: and
there is no new t hi ng under the sun" (Ecclesiastes 1:9).
20
Believing as I do in the theory oj rebirth, I live in
the hope that if not in this birth, in some other birth
I shall be able to hug all humanity in friendly embrace.
MOHANDAS K. GANDHI
t Vwa s wrestling wi t h time, and it had me in a bear hug.
Pedro was about t o finish his therapy and move per ma-
nently t o Mexi co. If Pedro and Elizabeth did not meet
soon, they woul d be in different countries, and the likeli-
hood of their meet i ng in this lifetime woul d be dramati-
cally di mi ni shed. Bot h of their grief reactions were
resolving. Physical sympt oms, such as quality of sleep,
energy levels, and appetite, were bet t er in bot h patients.
Thei r loneliness and their despair of fi ndi ng a good
and l ovi ng relationship remai ned intact.
Ant i ci pat i ng Pedro' s t ermi nat i on of therapy, I had
reduced t he f r equency of his appoi nt ment s t o every ot her
week. I did not have much time left.
I arranged for their next visits t o be sequential, for
Pedro t o fol l ow Elizabeth in the hourl y schedule that
day. Everybody ent eri ng or leaving my office has to pass
t hrough the wai t i ng r oom.
Dur i ng Elizabeth' s session, I worri ed that Pedro might
155
156 Brian L. Weiss
not come in for his appoi nt ment . Thi ngs happencar s
break down, emergenci es arise, illnesses devel opand
appoi nt ment s are changed.
He appeared. I wal ked into t he wai t i ng r oom wi t h
Elizabeth. They l ooked at each other, and their eyes lin-
gered for l onger t han a moment . I could sense the sudden
interest, the hi nt at worl ds of possibilities lying under the
surface. Or was this j ust wi shful t hi nki ng on my part?
Elizabeth' s mi nd quickly reasserted its customary mas-
tery, telling her she needed t o leave, caut i oni ng her about
appropriate behavi or. She t urned to the outside door and
left the offices.
I nodded to Pedro, and we walked i nt o my office.
"A very attractive woma n, " he comment ed, as he sat
down heavily in t he large leather chair.
"Yes, " I answered eagerly. "She' s a very interesting
person, t oo. "
"That ' s ni ce, " he said wistfully. His at t ent i on had
already begun t o wander. He t urned to t he task of t ermi -
nating our sessions and movi ng on to t he next phase of
his life. He had pushed t he brief meet i ng wi t h Elizabeth
out of his mi nd.
Nei t her Pedr o nor Elizabeth fol l owed up on this
encount er in t he wai t i ng r oom. Nei t her asked for mor e
i nformat i on about t he ot her. My mani pul at i on had been
t oo subtle, t oo fleeting.
I decided to try t he back-t o-back appoi nt ment s again,
t wo weeks later. Unless I chose to become mor e direct
and to breach confidentiality by speaking directly to one
or bot h of t hem, this woul d be my last chance. It was
Pedro' s final appoi nt ment pri or to his move.
They gazed at each ot her again as I escorted her t o the
waiting r oom. Thei r eyes met and lingered even l onger
Only Love Is Real
157
this time. Pedr o nodded and smiled. Elizabeth smiled in
return. She hesitated for a moment t hen t urned to the
door and left.
Trust yourself! I t hought , trying t o mentally remi nd
Elizabeth of an i mport ant lesson. She did not respond.
Again, Pedr o did not follow up. He did not ask me
about Elizabeth. He was absorbed by t he details of his
relocation t o Mexi co, and he ended his therapy on that
day.
Perhaps this is not t o be, I t hought . They were bot h
i mproved, al t hough not happy. Perhaps this was enough.
You will not always marry your most strongly bonded
soulmate. Ther e may be mor e than one for you, because
soul families travel t oget her. You mi ght choose to marry
a less bonded soul compani on, one who has somet hi ng
specific t o teach you or to learn f r om you. Your recogni -
tion of a soul mat e may occur later in life, after bot h of
you are already commi t t ed to your present-life families.
Or your strongest soul mat e connect i on may be to your
parent, or to your child, or to your sibling. Or your
strongest connect i on may be to a soul mat e who has not
incarnated dur i ng your lifetime and wh o is wat chi ng over
you f r om t he ot her side, like a guardian angel.
Somet i mes your soulmate is willing and available. He
or she mi ght recogni ze the passion and the chemistry
bet ween you, the intimate and subtle bonds that imply
connect i ons over many lifetimes. Yet he or she may be
toxic for you. It is a mat t er of soul devel opment .
If one soul is less devel oped and mor e ignorant than
the other, traits of violence, greed, jealousy, hatred, and
fear might be br ought i nt o the relationship. These t enden-
cies are toxic t o the mor e evolved soul, even if from a
158 Brian L. Weiss
soulmate. Frequent l y rescue fantasies arise wi t h t he
t hought , I can change hi m; I can help her grow. If he
does not allow your help, if in her free will she chooses
not t o learn, not t o grow, the relationship is doomed.
Perhaps t here will be anot her chance in anot her lifetime,
unless he awakens later in this one. Late awakenings do
happen.
Somet i mes soulmates decide not to get married whi l e
incarnated. They arrange to meet , t o stay t oget her until
t he agreed upon task is compl et ed, and t hen to move on.
Thei r agendas, their lesson plans for t he entirety of this
life, are different, and t hey do not want to or need t o
spend all of this lifetime t oget her. Thi s is not a tragedy,
only a mat t er of learning. You have eternal life together,
but somet i mes you may need to take separate classes.
A soulmate who is available but unawakened is a tragic
figure and can cause you great anguish. Unawakened
means that he or she does not see life clearly, is not aware
of the many levels of existence. Unawakened means not
knowi ng about souls. Usually it is the everyday mi nd that
prevents awakeni ng.
We hear t he excuses of the mi nd all t he time: I ' m t oo
young; I need mor e experience; I ' m not ready t o settle
down yet; you are of a different religion (or race, region,
social status, intellectual level, cultural background, and
so on). These are all excuses, for souls possess none of
these attributes.
The person may recognize the chemistry. The
attraction is definitely there, but the source of the chemi s-
try is not underst ood. It is delusional to believe that this
passion, this soul recogni t i on and attraction, will be easily
f ound again wi t h anot her person. You do not run into
such a soulmate every day, perhaps only one or t wo mor e
Only Love Is Real 159
in a lifetime. Di vi ne grace may reward a good heart, a
loving soul.
Never wor r y about meet i ng soulmates. Such meetings
are a mat t er of destiny. They will occur. Aft er the meeting,
the free will of bot h partners reigns. What decisions are
made or not made are a mat t er of free will, of choice.
The less awakened will make decisions based on the mi nd
and all of its fears and prejudices. Unfort unat el y, this oft en
leads t o heart ache. The mor e awakened the coupl e is, the
mor e the l i kel i hood of a decision based on love. Whe n
bot h partners are awakened, ecstasy is wi t hi n their grasp.
er 22
Read me, O Reader, if you find delight in me,
because very seldom shall I come back into this world.
LEONARDO DA VI NCI
' j / or t unat el y mi nds mor e creative t han mi ne wer e
expertly conspiring f r om lofty heights to arrange a meet i ng
bet ween Elizabeth and Pedro. The reuni on was predes-
tined. What happened afterward woul d be up to t hem.
Pedro was goi ng to Ne w York on business. After a
few days there he was to leave for London for t wo weeks
ofbusi ness and vacation before ret urni ng t o Mexi co. Eliz-
abeth was goi ng t o Bost on for a business meet i ng and
t hen a visit wi t h her college roommat e. They woul d be
traveling on t he same airline carrier but at different times.
Whe n she reached the gate at the airport, Elizabeth
f ound that her plane to Bost on had been cancelled.
Mechanical difficulties, she was told. Destiny was at wor k.
She was upset. She woul d have to call her fri end and
change the plans. The airline could get her to Newar k,
and she could catch the shuttle to Bost on very early the
next morni ng. She had an i mport ant business meet i ng in
the mor ni ng whi ch coul d not be missed.
160
Only Love Is Real 161
Unbeknowns t t o her, these new arrangement s put her
on the same flight as Pedro. He was already t here waiting
for the flight t o be called when she approached the gate.
Cat chi ng her out of the corner of his eye, he carefully
wat ched her check in at the count er and t hen take a seat
in t he wai t i ng l ounge. She occupi ed his at t ent i on entirely.
He recogni zed her f r om their brief encount ers in my
waiting r oom.
A feeling of familiarity, of interest, over whel med hi m.
His concent rat i on was riveted on her as she opened a
book. He wat ched her hair, her hands, how she sat and
moved, and she seemed so familiar t o hi m. He had seen
her moment ari l y in t he waiting r oom, but why this level
of familiarity? They must have met before the time in
the office. He racked his brain to fi nd t he hi dden memor y
of where.
She felt herself bei ng wat ched, but this oft en happened
to her. She tried t o concent rat e on her reading. Concen-
tration was difficult after all the hastily changed plans, but
the medi t at i on training had helped. She was able to clear
her mi nd and focus on her book.
The feeling of bei ng wat ched persisted. She l ooked up
and saw hi m staring at her. She f r owned, t hen smiled
when she recogni zed hi m f r om their fleeting encount ers
in the wai t i ng r oom. Instinctively she knew this man was
safe. But how coul d she know that?
She l ooked at hi m for a moment mor e and t hen glanced
back at her book, now completely unabl e t o concentrate
on the pages. Her heart began t o beat mor e quickly, and
her breat hi ng accelerated. She knew, beyond any doubt ,
that he was bei ng pulled by her, that very soon he woul d
approach her.
She could feel hi m comi ng near. He i nt roduced hi m-
162 Brian L. Weiss
self, and t hey began to talk. The attraction was mut ual ,
i mmedi at e, and very strong. Wi t hi n a f ew mi nut es he
suggested that they change their seats so that they could
sit together.
They were mor e than acquaintances before the airplane
left the gr ound. Pedro seemed so familiar to her. She
clearly knew how he woul d move, what he woul d say.
Elizabeth had been very psychic when she was a child.
The values and beliefs of her conservative mi dwest ern
upbri ngi ng had driven her intuitive talent underground,
but all of her ant ennae were up now and at full attention.
Pedro coul d not take his eyes away f r om her face. He
had never been so captivated wi t h someone' s eyes before.
Hers had such clarity and such dept h. Sky bl ue wi t h a
dark blue ring circling t hem, little hazel islands floating
in the blue sea that engulfed him.
In his mi nd, he once again heard the words of the
anguished woman weari ng the whi t e dress, the woman
who had appeared in his recurrent dream.
" Hol d her hand . . . reach out to her . "
He hesitated. He want ed t o hol d her hand. Not yet,
he t hought . I hardly know her.
Somewher e near Orl ando, t hunderst orms began t o
rock t he airplane as it pl owed t hr ough the night sky. The
sudden t urbul ence fri ght ened her, and a brief expression
of anxiety swept across her face.
Pedro not i ced it instantly and his hand grasped hers,
to comfort her. He knew it woul d.
The electricity t ouched his heart in t he flash of a
moment .
Elizabeth coul d feel lifetimes bei ng awakened by the
current.
The connect i on had been made.
Only Love Is Real 163
* * *
Listen to your heart, to your own intuitive wi sdom,
when maki ng i mpor t ant decisions, especially when deci d-
ing about a gift of destiny, such as a soulmate. Destiny
will deposit its gift directly at your feet, but what you
subsequently decide to do wi t h that gift is up to you. If
you rely exclusively on the advice of others, you may
make terrible mistakes. Your heart knows what you need.
Ot her peopl e have ot her agendas.
My father, meani ng well but partially bl i nded because
of his own fears, obj ect ed to my plans t o marry Carole.
As I l ook back, Carol e was one of destiny' s wonderful
gifts, a soul compani on across the centuries, appearing
again like a beaut i ful rose, bl oomi ng in its season.
Our pr obl em was our yout h. We met when I was
only ei ght een, havi ng j ust finished my freshman year at
Col umbi a. Carol e was seventeen, about to begi n college.
Wi t hi n a f ew mont hs we knew we want ed t o be t oget her
always. I had no desire t o see anyone else, despite warnings
f r om family that we wer e t oo young, that I did not have
enough experi ence t o make such a critical life decision.
They did not underst and that my heart had t he experience
of uncount ed centuries, that it was certain beyond any
rational compr ehensi on. It was i nconcei vabl e that we
woul d not be t oget her.
My father' s agenda became clear. If Carol e and I mar-
ried and had a child, I mi ght have t o leave school, and
my hopes of becomi ng a physician woul d be dashed. In
fact, this had happened to my father. He had been a pre-
medical st udent at Brookl yn College duri ng Wor l d War
II, but my birth had forced hi m to wor k after he left
military service. He never ret urned to medical school,
and his dreams of becomi ng a physician never material-
164 Brian L. Weiss
lzed. These dreams remai ned a bitterly unfulfilled pot en-
tial, hoveri ng nearby, gradually attaching to his sons.
Love dissolves fear. Our love gently dissolved his fears
and the proj ect i on of his fears ont o us. Eventually we
were married after my first year of medical school, when
Carole was graduat ed f r om college. My father came to
love Carole as a daught er, and he blessed our marriage.
Whe n your intuitions, your gut-feelings, your spiritual
heart all know beyond any doubt , do not be swayed by
the fear-based argument s of others. Somet i mes meani ng
well, and somet i mes not , they mi ght lead you far astray
f r om your j oy.
er 23
It is not more surprising to be born twice than once;
everything in nature is resurrection.
VOLTAI RE
El i zabet h called me f r om Bost on. She had ext ended her
vacation. Pedr o had ret urned f r om London immediately
after his business t here was concl uded. He was in Boston,
too, to be wi t h Elizabeth. They wer e already falling in
love.
They had begun t o compare their experiences of past
lives, whi ch t hey bot h r emember ed vividly. They were
discovering each ot her, once again.
" He really is special," she comment ed.
"So are you, " I remi nded her.
Fol l owi ng my experiences wi t h Elizabeth and Pedro,
my practice has taken an indescribably beautiful leap into
the mystical and magical. Whe n I conduct large wor k-
shops in whi ch each participant is present ed wi t h the
opport uni t y to experi ence deeply relaxed and hypnotic
states, the f r equency of magical events rises dramatically.
The range of experiences extends far beyond past lives
165
166 Brian L. Weiss
and reincarnation. Beautiful spiritual and mystical events
emerge frequent l y and wi t h life-transforming power . I
have been blessed to help facilitate these events. Her e is
what happened in one t wo- week span.
A reporter for a local newspaper at t ended a weekend
series of seminars and workshops in Bost on. She wrot e
the following.
Many people in Weiss' past-life regression workshops
related profound emotional and spiritual experiences.
One exercise was particularly dramatic.
Weiss had the lights turned down and asked everyone
in the room to find a partner. He directed the pairs to
look into each other's faces for several minutes while he
guided the meditation with his voice.
When the exercise was over, two women who had
never met shared that they'd each seen themselves as the
other's sister.
One woman said she kept seeing a nun in her partner's
face. When she told her partner this, the woman replied
that in the previous day's session she'd had a past-life
memory in which she was a nun.
Most amazing was a local woman who saw in her
partner's face her nineteen and one half year old brother
who' d been killed in World War II. Her partner was a
younger woman from Wisconsin who explained that she
had also had a past life memory the day before; that of
being a nineteen-and-a-half-year-old man in army boots
and fatigues, killed in a war that had to be earlier than
Viet Nam. The healing experienced by the local woman
was palpable in the room.
"Love dissolves anger," said Weiss. "That' s the spiritual
part. Valium doesn't do it. Prozac doesn't do it."
Only Love Is Real 167
And l ove heals grief.
The brilliant psychotherapist, cellular biologist, and
aut hor, Dr. Joan Borysenko, was standing next to me,
respondi ng t o my keynot e address, "Spiritual Implications
of Past-Life Ther apy, " given at t he Bost on conference.
Her bl ue eyes danced as she related a t en-year-ol d story.
At that t i me, she was a highly respected researcher on the
faculty of Harvard Medi cal School. Dur i ng a conference
on nut ri t i on at a Bost on hotel, at whi ch Joan was one of
the speakers, she happened t o run i nt o her boss, who was
at t endi ng a medical conference at t he same hotel. He was
surprised t o see her there.
Back at wor k, her boss t hreat ened her. If she ever again
lent the name of Har / ar d University t o such a frivolous
affair as a nut ri t i on conference, she woul d not be wor ki ng
at Harvard anymore.
Ti mes have changed enormousl y since t hen, even at
Harvard. Not only is nut ri t i on now a mainstream area of
teaching and research, but some faculty members at Har -
vard are conf i r mi ng and expandi ng on my wor k wi t h
past-life regression therapy.
The next weekend I conduct ed a t wo- day seminar
in San Juan, Puer t o Ri co. Nearl y five hundr ed peopl e
attended, and again t here was magic. Many peopl e experi-
enced earl y-chi l dhood, i n-ut ero, and past-life memori es.
One participant, a forensic psychiatrist well respected in
Puert o Ri co, experi enced even mor e.
Dur i ng a gui ded medi t at i on on t he second day of the
conference, his i nner eye perceived t he shadowy figure
of a young woman. She approached hi m.
168 Brian L. Weiss
"Tel l t hem I am wel l , " she directed hi m. "Tel l t hem
Natasha is wel l . "
The psychiatrist felt "very silly" as he related his experi -
ence to t he entire group. Aft er all, he knew nobody
named Natasha. The name itself is a rarity in Puert o Ri co.
And the message related by the ghostlike girl had no
connect i on to anyt hi ng happeni ng in t he conference or
in his personal life.
"Does t he message have any meani ng to anybody
here?" t he psychiatrist asked the audi ence.
Suddenly a woman screamed in the back of the audi t o-
ri um. " My daught er, my daught er!"
Her daught er, who had died suddenly in her twenties,
only six mont hs before, was named Ana Natalia. Her
mot her , and only her mot her , called her Natasha.
The psychiatrist had never met nor heard of Natasha
or her mot her . He was as unner ved by this extraordinary
experi ence as was the mot her . Wh e n bot h had regained
their composure, Natasha' s mot her showed hi m a phot o
of her daught er. The psychiatrist again gr ew pale. Thi s
was the same young woman whose shadowy figure had
approached hi m wi t h her amazing message.
The next weekend I led a conference in Mexi co City.
Once again, wonder f ul magic was breaki ng out all around
me. The familiar arms-t urni ng-t o-goosefl esh feeling was
happeni ng wi t h st unni ng regularity.
After a medi t at i on, a woman in t he audi ence began t o
cry happily. She had just experi enced a past-life memor y
in whi ch her current husband was her son. She had been
a male in a medieval lifetime, and she, t he father, had
abandoned hi m. In this present life, her husband has always
feared that she woul d leave hi m. Thi s fear had no rational
Only Love Is Real 169
basis in t he current life. She had never even threatened
to leave hi m. She reassured hi m constantly, but his over-
whel mi ng insecurity devastated his life and was poi soni ng
the relationship.
No w she underst ood the real source of her husband' s
dread. She rushed t o t el ephone hi m wi t h the answer and
wi t h her reassurance that she woul d never leave hi m again.
Rel at i onshi ps can somet i mes heal incredibly fast.
At the end of t he seminar' s second day, as I was signing
books, a woma n came t hr ough t he line, crying softly.
" Thank you so much! " she whi spered as she t ook my
hand. " You don' t know what you have done for me!
"I' ve had terrible pains in my upper back for the past
ten years. I' ve been t o doctors here, in Houst on, and Los
Angeles. Nobody has been able t o help me, and I' ve
suffered terribly. In the past-life regression yesterday, I
saw myself as a soldier bei ng stabbed in the back, just
bel ow the neck. Just wher e my pain is. The pain disap-
peared, for t he first t i me in ten years, and it's still gone!"
She was so happy she coul d not stop smiling and crying.
Lately I' ve been telling peopl e that regression therapy
can take weeks or mont hs to wor k, that t hey should not
get discouraged because the process seems t o be goi ng
slowly. Thi s lady r emi nded me that progress can also be
unbelievably rapid.
As she wal ked away, I wonder ed what ot her miracles
the fut ure woul d bri ng.
The mor e I see my patients and wor kshop participants
recalling memor i es of their past lives, and the mor e I
witness their magical and mystical experiences, the mor e
170 Brian L. Weiss
I am remi nded that the concept of rei ncarnat i on is only
a bridge.
The t herapeut i c results of wal ki ng over this bridge are
beyond quest i on. People get better, even if t hey don' t
believe in past lives. The belief of t he therapist isn' t
i mport ant either. Memori es are elicited and symptoms
resolve.
So many people, however, become fixated on the
bridge rather t han fi ndi ng what lies beyond. They obsess
about mi nor details, names, historical accuracies. Thei r
whol e focus is on discovering as many details f r om as
many past lives as t hey can.
They are missing the forest for t he trees. Rei ncar nat i on
is a bridge to greater knowl edge, wi sdom, and underst and-
ing. It remi nds us of what we take wi t h us and what we
do not , of why we are here and of what we need to
accomplish in order to move on. It remi nds us of the
incredible gui dance and help along t he way, and of our
loved ones ret urni ng wi t h us t o share our steps and to
ease our burdens.
er 24
Finding myself to exist in the world, I believe I shall
in some shape or other always exist; and, with all
the inconveniences human life is liable to, I shall not
object to a new edition oj mine, hoping, however,
that the "errata" of the last may be corrected.
BENJ AMI N FRANKLI N
L/ ver the years, many of my patients have become my
teachers. They constantly bri ng me gifts of their stories
and experiences, gifts of their knowl edge and spiritual
understanding. Some have become my dear friends, shar-
ing their lives as well as their gifts.
Years ago, bef or e Many Lives, Many Masters was pub-
lished but after my wor k wi t h Cat heri ne and dozens of
subsequent regression patients, a patient brought in t wo
messages for me. She had received t he messages in dreams
and wr ot e t hem down upon awakeni ng. They came f r om
Philo, a person I, t oo, had seen in dreams and later i dent i -
fied in my first book. Thi s patient did not know about
my dream experiences. The "coi nci dence" of the same
name was interesting.
Di d the messages come f r om her subconscious mind?
From an outside source, such as Philo? Fr om a forgot t en
memor y of somet hi ng she had read or heard earlier in
her life? Perhaps it does not matter. To paraphrase my
171
172 Brian L. Weiss
daughter, Amy: " Real is a mat t er of existence, and it
existed in her mi nd. " My messages f r om Phi l o also spoke
of the mi nd.
To BLW. The mind in each of us can comprehend
all other things but is unable to know itself. For let it say
what it is and whence, whether it is spirit or blood or
fire or some other substance or only so much, whether
it is corporeal or incorporeal.
We are ignorant of when the soul enters the body.
You' ve done good work in guiding beings to recognize
that moment. It is a good beginning.
Your friend,
Philo
The ot her message came a week later and dealt wi t h
the nature of God.
To BLW. We must remember, too, that the transcen-
dent Being is the only cause, the father and the creator
of the universe. That he fills all things not with His
thought only but with His essence.
His essence is not exhausted in the universe. He is
above it and beyond.
We may say that only His powers are in the universe.
But while He is above His powers, He includes them.
What they do, He does through them.
Now they are visible, working in the world. From
their activity we get a clue to the nature of God.
I dees Philo
Only Love Is Real 173
I can perceive great truths in these words, whatever
their source.
I have met famous psychics and medi ums, priests and
gurus, and I have learned many things f r om t hem. Some
are incredibly talented, and some are not .
It has become clear to me that t here is no direct correla-
tion bet ween psychic abilities and level of spiritual evol u-
tion. 1 r emember a conversation I had wi t h Edgar
Mitchell, the wel l - known astronaut and researcher of
paranormal phenomena. In his laboratory, Edgar had stud-
ied a famous psychic who could affect energies and by
doi ng so coul d move a compass poi nt t hr ough a magnetic
field and even move objects by the power of his mi nd,
a phenomenon known as telekinesis. Despi t e these obvi -
ously advanced psychic abilities, Edgar not i ced that the
character and personality of this psychic wer e definitely
not consistent wi t h a high level of spiritual awareness. He
was the first t o poi nt out t o me that psychic abilities and
spiritual devel opment are not necessarily connect ed.
I believe that t he psychic abilities of some people
increase as t hey progress spiritually, as they become mor e
and mor e aware. Thi s is mor e of an incidental acquisition
rather t han an essential step. One' s ego should not become
inflated merel y because t he level of one' s psychic abilities
increases. The goal is to learn about l ove and compassion,
about goodness and charity, not about becomi ng a famous
psychic.
Even therapists can become ext remel y psychic, if they
allow it, whi l e wor ki ng wi t h their patients. Sometimes I
can pick up psychic impressions, intuitive knowl edge, or
174 Brian L. Weiss
even physical impressions relating to t he patient sitting in
the comfort abl e chair across f r om me.
A few years ago I treated a young Jewi sh woman who
was ext remel y despondent . She was feeling out of place,
feeling that s omehow she was in the wr ong family. The
center of bot h of my palms began t o ache wi t h a sharp
pain as I talked to her, and I coul dn' t figure out why. I
l ooked at the arms of my leather chair. Ther e was no
break in the leather, no sharp edges, no reason for this
kind of pain. Yet it was getting even mor e severe and
begi nni ng to sting and to burn. I l ooked at my hands,
and 1 could see no marks or impressions, no cuts, no
reason for this.
Then a t hought appeared suddenly 111 my mi nd: Thi s
is like bei ng crucified. I decided t o ask her what this
meant. " What does the crucifixion mean to you? Do you
have some connect i on wi t h Jesus?" She j ust l ooked at
me, her face blanching. She had been secretly goi ng to
church since she was eight years old. She had never told
her parents about this feeling that she was really Catholic.
This sensation in my hands and the connect i on we had
made wer e able t o help my patient break the logjam of
her life and t o know that she was not crazy, she was not
bizarre, that her feelings had a basis in reality. She began,
finally, t o underst and and to heal. Eventually we f ound
a power f ul past life she had experi enced in Palestine t wo
t housand years ago.
We are all psychics, and we are all gurus. We have
merely forgot t en.
A patient asked me about Sai Baba, a great holy man
in India. Is he an avatar, a divine incarnation, a descent
of deity to earth in incarnate form?
Only Love Is Real 175
"I don' t know, " I replied, "but in some sense, aren' t
we all?"
We are all gods. God is wi t hi n us. We should not be
distracted by psychic abilities, for these are merely sign-
posts along t he way. We need to express our divinity and
our love by good deeds, by service.
Perhaps no one shoul d be anyone else's guru for longer
than a mont h or t wo. Repeat ed trips t o India are not
necessary since t he real j our ney lies wi t hi n.
Ther e are distinct benefits to havi ng one' s own t ran-
scendent experiences, t o begin openi ng up to the realiza-
tion of t he divine, t o t he underst andi ng that life is so
much mor e t han meets the eye. Of t ent i mes you don' t
believe it if you don' t see it.
Our pat h is an i nward one. Thi s is t he mor e difficult
path, the mor e painful j our ney. We bear t he responsibility
for our own learning. Thi s responsibility cannot be ext er-
nalized and dumped on someone else, on some guru.
The ki ngdom of God is wi t hi n you.
ue
I am certain that I have been here as I am now a
thousand times before, and I hope to return a thousand
times.
GOETHE
r om t i me t o t i me, I hear f r om Elizabeth and Pedro.
They are happily marri ed now and live in Mexi co, wher e
Pedro has become involved in politics in addition to his
businesses. Elizabeth cares for their beaut i ful little girl,
who has l ong br own hair and loves pi cki ng flowers f r om
their garden and chasing the butterflies that flutter around
her.
" Thank you for everyt hi ng, " Elizabeth wr ot e recently.
" We are so happy, and we owe so much of it to you. "
I don' t believe t hey owe me anything. I don' t believe
in coincidences. I hel ped t hem to meet , but they woul d
have met anyway, even wi t hout me. That ' s how destiny
works.
Whe n allowed to flow freely, love overcomes all obsta-
cles.
176
Dr. Weiss maintains a private clinic in Miami, Flor-
ida, where he has expanded his offices to include well-
trained and highly experienced psychologists and social
workers who also use regression therapy in their work.
In addition, Dr. Weiss conducts seminars and experiential
workshops nationally and internationally as well as
training programs for professionals. He has recorded a
series of audiotapes in whi ch he helps you discover and
learn techniques of meditation, healing, deep relaxation,
regression, and ot her visualization exercises.
For more i nformat i on, please contact:
The Weiss Institute
PO Box 560788
Miami, Florida 33256-0788, USA
Phone: (001) 305 598-8151
Fax: (001) 305 598-4009
Website: www.brianweiss. c om
We all have a soulmate, someone who is special to us.
In his book, psychiatrist and past-life therapist Dr Brian
Weiss describes the extraordinary case of two of his
patients, Pedro and Elizabeth, whose shared lives and
lifetimes unfolded quite separately in his office. Could
they have loved - and lost - each other across time?
Dr Weiss explains that you may be awakened to the
presence of your soul companion by a look, a dream,
a memory or a feeling. Finding and reuniting with your
soulmate will bring you profound bliss and happiness,
safe in the knowledge that you are together always,
to the end of ti me.
'A gripping love story that transcends time as we know i t Only Love
Is Real takes us on a journey of special love shared by two who
continue to be together in many lifetimes.This makes you truly
believe that we all really do have soulmates and that "Only Love
Is Real".'
DR RAYMOND MOODY Aut hor of Life After Death
'Psychiatrist Brian Weiss parts the veil between the worlds and gives
us a glimpse of the true beauty of the human soul, its growth in
relationships and the ultimate reality of love as both the source and
completion of our journey.'
JOAN BORYSENKO Aut hor of Fire in the Soul
A fascinating story that will open your mind, Explore the mystery,
wisdom and wonder of life and love.'
BERNARD S SI EGEL M. D. Aut hor of Life, Medici
www. pi at kus. co. uk
ISBN 978-0-7499-1620-6
Cover desi gn by Button Design
Printed in Great Bri t ai n
9.99