She said "Show me Love"

Sometimes the stories that arise in a past life regression are so unexpected, or in this case, beautiful … they beg to be shared. This is a segment of a session, paraphrased. A past life regression can indeed be time travel – and sometimes the answer to a question can be a unexpected one. Enjoy…

solitary girl qhht love story

Life had certainly had its challenges … And when an opportunity for a past life regression appeared, her most important request was “Please – show me love.” She hoped for an opportunity to regress to another time where she could experience the love that she had felt this lifetime had often lacked.

Her induction was smooth and she “landed” at the edge of a grassy field. Graceful yellow grasses swayed gently in the breeze. She could smell the clean sweetness of these grasses, the sun shone down and she could feel the warmth on her skin. Low rolling hills. Off in the distance she saw a small cluster of trees and what looked to be a low white cottage with a tall thick thatched roof.

She was wearing a heavy canvas dress, thick stockings, woolen maybe, some sort of cumbersome  shoe like a wooden clog. Walking up to her home, it was thick plaster or mud walls,  thatch roof – she knew instinctively that there were herbs drying up in the attic. The cottage was simple, two rooms and a fireplace. A small  table under the small shuttered window with two stools. A shelf with a few implements, a pail and crocks in the shadows. The second was a small bedroom, nothing more then two beds, one large enough but cozy for two on one wall and a small narrow one under the lone window on the opposite side of the dim room. From the outside appearance the cottage had appeared longer, but the client realized the additional length was walled off and a shelter for the livestock that shared the same roof  but at the opposite end of the structure.

The client saw a very simple meal, a stew or something it simmering in a heavy pot in the fireplace. It appeared to be mainly vegetables, possibly tiny bits of meat. A partial loaf of a coarse dark bread set on the table. Then she noticed the old woman sitting there, wrapped in her heavy black shawl at the table. In the low light she perceived her as an older mother figure to the past-life scene she was viewing …

“It’s my grandma!!” The client in trance exclaimed joyfully.

(Later, she was amazed at this. In this lifetime her beloved grandmother was her dad’s adoptive mother, thus not a blood relation – demonstrating that the ties that bind us across lifetimes are of love and not necessarily just about DNA.)

The client saw herself as a young woman in this time, she felt fit and strong and vibrant.  She saw herself swinging a heavy scythe. Pitching hay, tending a goat, a pig and a few chickens, a garden, chopping wood …

She knew she tanned deeply in the summer from the immense amount of outdoor work to be done. It was a humble life of hard toil, a peasant’s life.

And definitely what QHHT founder and teacher Dolores Cannon would have called a “digging potatoes life” …

The client was puzzled. She witnessed a peasant’s life but there seemed to be quite a sizable piece of land surrounding her, far more than you would assume to be in the possession of someone of a lower peasant caste. It certainly appeared to be hers and she had the strong impression it was she that worked it. Alone.

An important day in the regression brought her to a festive feast, a celebration. She saw herself placing a large laden platter on the long table, heaped with all sorts of goodness.  She witnessed  herself in an heavily embroidered dress, canvas or linen, a bright headdress and ribbons flowing from it. She laughed gaily and danced and danced , and the client in trance savored the carefree joy of the younger woman’s vivacity.

We moved forward to another important day : inside the cottage again, she sat down to a meal with the old woman and then noticed the baby playing at her feet.

A baby??

A baby boy who appeared to be maybe 8 or nine months old with dark eyes and dark curls, crawling about the dim room’s floor. Her heart swelled and warmed instantly…

 Where was the man, the father of the baby, a husband??

There appeared to be no partner in this hard work life?

The client gazed at the baby in her mind’s eye  … the baby looked so familiar … but she just couldn’t quite place him  – yet .

The next important day in the regression brought the client back to the edge of that grassy field she had first appeared on at the beginning of the regression.

She watched in silent dismay as a knight in armor rode off along the tree line , moving at a gentle lope with the baby, now about a year old, a wrapped bundle clutched gently to his chest. The woman deep in trance suddenly, involuntarily cried out hoarsely “Katie!!!”

Her hand slowly raised up in a futile wave of resignation…

And then the sobs. They seemed to come from someplace so deep …

After several minutes the client in trance suddenly grew quiet again as she pondered the sudden recognition.


The baby boy taken away with the knight in that distant lifetime was her beloved baby granddaughter Katie – in the present day!

The final day of importance in the regression brought her to her day of death. The elderly mother of the earlier scenes was long passed, and this young robust girl herself had aged into a frail old woman. Thin wisps of white hair peeking out from the dark knotted scarf that covered her head and stooped bony shoulders.

She had toiled long hours alone for years on this land. It had been a solid life, but a solitary one with little rest. She was alone in that little bedroom now, no longer on the bigger straw tick bed, but rather, curled up on the small one tucked under the little window.

The light of an overcast day streamed in through that little window into the dim dusty room. She was leaving now, and relieved. She could feel herself slip softly away like the last wisp of smoke from a dying fire – and she reveled joyfully in the release from that  stiff aching body that she now realized had been so tiny and fragile, like a little bird. She felt a tenderness as she studied the old woman’s still figure on that little bed …

“So this is death” she whispered.

She felt herself start to drift away overhead when she noticed a quiet figure stepping slowly from the shadows of the room… a younger man, strong, lean and tall, his head lowered,  some sort of bundle or hat clutched to his chest. His features obscured in the shadows by the fast dimming light from the small window over the lifeless old woman.

Where had he come from? Had he arrived too late? Was this young man the infant boy of all those years ago that had been taken astride the horse with the knight?

So many questions, so few answers and “she” had no energy left to dwell and now willingly obliged the welcoming warm pull to drift away to the tunnel of light…

Later, post regression, the client  was ecstatic that the 2 people that she cherished so dearly and who had never met in the present day  (with birth years 105 years apart) had come together in this woman’s life so unexpectedly in another time, another place.

The client received many important answers from that session.

But – I was perplexed. That one request to “show me love” appeared more like a forced adoption of the beloved little child . It had appeared that the “young woman” had surrendered the child with a stoic acceptance and deep grief. It had certainly seemed she would not have surrendered the child if not for something in her environment or circumstance compelling her to do so. The heartache had been so evident…

Perception is everything. There was strong obvious royalty affiliations. The child had not appeared to the client as having been stolen, but it was as if he had been handed over, sadly but lovingly surrendered.

Through that passage of time, had that indeed been the ultimate act of love – to surrender this baby boy to what she might have anticipated as a better life?

History over the centuries denotes a long list of illegitimate babies born to kings and their courtesans, and many a royal infant was conceived by a commoner, the hired help…

This seemingly large chunk of land that the squat little cottage had set on – was that land the price – the compensation for an infant boy perhaps conceived of a dallying father and peasant girl? Perhaps to be adopted by a barren mother? We can never know for sure – but,  the evidence demonstrated that this infant boy was given to a better life – and this action was indeed the ultimate love.

It might not have been the kind of love we have in mind if we were seeking a pie-eyed romantic story , but this demonstrated something important - A penetrating love that reached right across the centuries and into the present day …  into a beautiful dark-eyed, curly-haired baby girl named Katie who snuggles so tightly to her grandmother.

Yes - love.

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