It’s always nice to help a client release a past life. Two people happy for the price of one. But sometimes you get more than you bargained for….
To resolve a personal issue, I helped a client revisit the moment of conception because she felt the root of the problem lay there.
It turned out she had chosen her current family out of a great need for warmth… because where she came from was a very cold and dark place.
Ever since childhood she had not been able to stand the cold. And since the issue she wanted to work on had been triggered in fact, she had been colder than ever.
I felt the cold myself, creeping up my legs in the practice room. This was no ordinary coldness. It was an energetic coldness.
We decided to see what the cold and dark place was, because chances were it was connected to a past life that needed healing and release. And sure enough, as we went further into the session, my client realized she, or rather, he, because in that life she was a young man, found herself in the bitter cold of the Russian winter.
It was the second world war, and the man was a soldier, tramping around in the horrible cold, and there was nothing but snow around for miles and miles. He and his comrades slept in the snow, they drank snow, they ate snow because there wasn’t any food left. (Now my client also realized why in this life, she had always hated the snow. No white Christmas for her, thank you very much!)
We got to know more about the young man she had been and he turned out to be one of the young German boys who had been drafted. He was sixteen at the time, a blue-eyed, blond-haired farm lad, an easy-going boy, a little naive because he had probably never been further from home than the next little village. Life was good. His family was warm and loving.
Life was simple, they had no television, no phones. So when he was drafted he thought at first it might be an adventure. It might be fun, tramping around with the other boys. It would be a minor nuisance at worst, something to do and then quickly get back to normal life on the farm. But it was not to end that way.
His father knew. He would not speak about it. His mother suspected and was sad. But she didn’t speak about it either. She packed his suitcase and kissed him goodbye. As he felt her sadness, her unspoken thoughts, he began to realize this was not going to be a fun trip. But he couldn’t back out now. It was unspoken but everybody knew. Once you were drafted, you could not refuse. Or they might come after your family.
When his company ended up in the bleak Russian winter, they were all starving. They marched through endless fields of snow, and as he marched, he felt less and less. Marching numbed his feelings. His feelings had also been numbed by the terrors of war. He had hidden his real self away deep inside, making himself ever smaller, not to have to feel the horror of the atrocities that were committed around him, and the ones he had to commit himself in the name of duty.
When he died, he didn’t even notice. None of them did. He just walked and got smaller and smaller, until he went into a cold nothingness.
We helped the young man realize that, in fact, his body was dead. He warmed up a little at the thought of going home, but it turned out he was afraid. Afraid to take the horrors home with him, to that warm and loving place that had almost become like heaven in his mind. He was also ashamed of all he had been compelled to do.
He turned out to be Catholic, so we took him to a little chapel to pray. He took off his soldier’s coat, and with it, he took off the identity of the soldier. Now he was a young man in a soldier’s clothes again. There was light and warmth in the chapel, and he began feeling better and better, ready to go home. It was time to round off the session. The work seemed done.
We talked about the session before my client went home, and I said to her: ‘I felt sorry for his comrades, still marching through the snow, not knowing they were dead, poor lads. During the session I had felt compelled to say out loud: ‘Companyyyyyy, halt!’ and inform them of their current state, to help them pass over.’ But that was not the scope of the session, so I let it be.
But they hadn’t.
That afternoon I developed an ache in my neck and shoulders I couldn’t explain. I had done nothing to wrench my muscles. But it became stronger by the hour, pulling at my awareness until I felt I had to look into it. I checked myself with muscle-testing and sure enough: this was no ordinary muscle-ache. I had taken on some energy in my client’s session. Not of her former life. But of his comrades. They were with me. All of them.
I burst out laughing as I realized. I had unknowingly called on them myself! When I had said ‘Company, halt’ in jest they had apparently heard and obeyed.
Now these were young lads in a terrible state, still numb, starving and in a trance-like state and used to following orders.
But I suspect it was more than that. I know I have been a leader of armies and renegades, a warrior in many lives, though you might not suspect it by looking at me. And warriors of all times appeal greatly to my sense of compassion. Maybe, part of me subconsciously still feels compelled to help them.
I asked for the help of Archangel Michael, the Archangel of warriors, and gathered the men to speak to them. I told them they were free, and asked their families and the angels to come for them (of course, they were probably already waiting all that time). I released them. And they went. It was as simple as that.
It was a little extra work, but I am grateful I got to help those lads move on in such a simple and easy way. I’m sure they are relieved to be home now, warm and cozy!
Wendy Gillissen, M.A. is a psychologist, certified past life therapist and author of Curse of the Tahiéra, an award-winning spiritual adventure