MANAN FF - TILL THE END OF TIME

NANDINI EXPLORES MORE PREVIOUS LIFETIMES

Nandini seemed less depressed as she entered Dr. Dhawan's office for her third appointment. Her eyes were brighter.

"I feel lighter," she told him. "I feel freer. . . ." Her brief recollection of herself as the young boy swept off the boat had begun to sweep away some of her fears. Not just the fears of water or of the dark, but also deeper and more basic fears, fears of death and extinction.

She had died as that boy, and yet here she was again, as Nandini. At a subconscious level, her grief might have been lessening because of the knowledge that she had lived before and would live again, that death was not final.

And if she could spring back again, renewed and refreshed, in a new body, then so could her loved ones.

Nandini quickly went into a deep hypnotic trance. Within a few minutes, her eyes were sweeping from side to side under her closed lids as she scanned an ancient vista.

"The sand is beautiful," she began, recalling a life as a Native American in the South, probably on the west coast of Florida. "It's so white . . . almost pink at times. . . . It's so fine, like sugar." She paused for a moment. "The sun sets over the big sea. To the east are large swamps, with many birds and animals. There are lots of small islands between the swamps and the sea. The waters are filled with good fish. We catch the fish, in the rivers and between the islands." She paused again, then continued.

"We are at peace. My life is very happy. My family is large; I seem to be related to many in the village. I know about roots, plants, and herbs. ... I can make medicines from plants. ... I know about healing."

In Native American cultures there was no penalty for using healing potions or for other holistic practices. Instead of being called witches and drowned or burned at the stake, healers were respected and often revered.

Dr. Dhawan took 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.

"There is very little sadness with my death," she noted after floating above her withered old body and surveying the scene below, "even though all of my village seem to be there."

She was not at all upset by the lack of grieving. There was great respect and caring for her, for her body and her soul. Only the sadness was missing.

"We do not mourn deaths because we know that the spirit is eternal. It returns in human form again if its work is not finished," she explained.

"Sometimes by carefully examining the new body, the identity of the previous body can be known." She pondered this concept for a few moments. "We look for birthmarks where scars used to be and for other signs," she elaborated.

"Similarly, we do not celebrate births so much . . . even though it may be good to see the spirit again." She paused, perhaps searching for the words to describe this concept.

"Although the earth is very beautiful and continually demonstrates the harmony and interconnectedness of all things . . . which is a great lesson . . . life is much harder here. With the greater spirit there is no disease, no pain, no separation. . . . There is no ambition, no competition, no hatred, no fear, no enemy. . . . There is only peace and harmony. So the smaller spirit, returning, cannot be happy to leave such a place. It would be wrong for us to celebrate when the spirit is saddened. It would be very selfish and unfeeling," she concluded.

"This does not mean that we do not welcome the returning spirit," she quickly added. "It is important to demonstrate our love and affection at this vulnerable time."

Having explained this fascinating concept of death without sadness and birth without celebration, she was silent, resting.

Here again was the concept of reincarnation and the reunion in physical form of past-life family, friends, and lovers. In all times and in diverse cultures throughout history, this concept has appeared seemingly independently.

The dim memory of that ancient life might have helped to pull her back again to Florida, reminding her at the deepest levels of an ancestral home.

Perhaps the feeling of sand and sea, of palms and of mangrove swamps called to her soul memory, helping to lure her back with a subconscious seduction. For that life had been most pleasant and filled with satisfactions not present in her current life.

These ancient stirrings might have led her to apply to the University of Miami, which led to her scholarship and her move to Miami. This is not coincidence. Destiny required her to be here.

"Are you tired?" asked Dr. Dhawan, returning his attention to Nandini, who was still resting peacefully on the recliner.

"No," she answered quietly.

"Do you want to explore another lifetime?"

"Yes." More quiet.

Once again they travelled back through time, and once again she emerged in an ancient land.

"This is a desolate land," Nandini observed after she had scanned the scene. "There are high mountains . . . dusty dirt roads . . . the traders pass on these roads. . . . This is a route for traders going east and west. ..."

"Do you know the country?" asked Dr. Dhawan, looking for details.

"India... I think," she answered hesitantly. "Maybe just west of that ... I don't think the borders are that clear. We live in the mountains, and there are passes the traders must go through," she added, returning to the scene.

"Do you see yourself?" he asked.

"Yes ... I'm a girl . . . about fifteen. My skin is darker, and I have black hair. My clothes are dirty. I work in the stables . . . tending to the horses and mules. . . . We are very poor. The weather is so cold; my hands are so cold working here." Her face grimacing, Nandini made fists with both hands.

This young girl was innately bright but uneducated. Life was grindingly difficult. Traders frequently abused her, sometimes leaving a little money. Her family was unable to protect her. Numbing cold and constant hunger plagued her life. There was only one bright spot in that young girl's life.

"There's a young trader who comes by often with his father and the others. He loves me, and I love him. He is funny and gentle, and we laugh a lot together. I wish he could just stay so we can be together all the time."

This was not to be. She died at the age of sixteen. Her body, already worn out because of the bitter life and elements, quickly succumbed to pneumonia. Her family was around her when she died.

As they reviewed this brief life, Nandini was not sad. She had learnt an important lesson.

"Love is the strongest force in the world," she said softly. "Love can grow and bloom even in frozen soil and in the harshest conditions. It exists everywhere, and all the time. Love is a flower for all the seasons." Her face was filled with a beautiful smile.

***

NEXT: Manik explores more previous lifetimes.