The Importance of Being Ernst

A past life regression story :


The client regressed back to a boy about 9 or 10. He was in bare feet, wearing a heavy dark trouser like a heavy canvas, the cuffs rolled up, and a coarse cloth white shirt. Light brown hair, a little shaggy. His first observations were of a breezy sunny day, seeing the rocks and pebbles and tufts of grasses at the edge of a shallow stream.



He found himself sitting under a gnarled old leafy tree. As he looked about, he saw his 'home' across this shallow stream, shrouded in trees and small bushes. An old cabin, small with 2 sparsely furnished rooms and what appeared to be a sheltered porch. A fireplace and hearth were in the main room, a pot bubbling away.


An aged man and lady which he immediately understood to be his grandparents. He sensed that he lived with them. She wore a long dress, she was plump, a large bibbed apron across her girth and a puffy lace-trimmed cap upon her head from which a few tendrils of long white hair escaped. Her eyes were familiar but he couldn't place why. He thought they might be Quakers.


The elderly man had an immense long white beard, the same dark trousers and shirt as the boy but with suspenders and a woolen dark jacket. The old man looked stern but the boy knew he was loving and he sensed that the grandmother was filling in for the role of the mother... Where was the mother? The boy realized she was no longer here at all, at least not on this plane of existence. Where was the father of this boy, he sensed he was away - but likely never coming back.


As the session progressed, more details came to life as everything tuned in. He had lived with these elderly people since he was small, possibly after the death of the mother. The life was a simple spartan one and devoted to the bible and strict religious observation. There was no farming or anything of that nature in that cabin by the stream. There were fish and much foraging to do, potatoes were maintained in a hodge-podge plot off the side of the cabin.


There was a neighboring village though it was quite a distance away. Several miles walk for sure, maybe 10 miles or more along a narrow footpath that weaved through the trees and bushes. Basic supplies could be gathered from this village though the boy knew this only ever occurred 2 or 3 times a year.


Once in a long while a visitor would come astride a horse or on foot delivering a sack of flour or perhaps beans but the boy had no interest in these visitors, he was much more interested in his own world.


“What do they call you?

“Ernst” the client immediately replied.

"Do you go to school?"

"No - but I am smart. I read."


The boy spent his days in strict religious observance with his grandfather but there were also long periods daily of solitude, often sitting under the tree or wandering about in nature. The boy also had a unique gift, one that the grandfather seemed aware of and possibly shared. The boy could see the energy of everything around him. Everything was alive and vibrant. The energy showed itself as vibrant halos of color and everything seemed to pulse. Plants, trees, flowers, even rocks had a soft band of color to them.

The client struggled to find the words to explain what he was seeing ... “It would be like seeing a Van Gogh painting, like Starry Night, but seeing the painting come alive and moving.”



The first important day in the regression brought this client to the death of the grandfather. People were all about the tiny cabin and milling about outside. The boy was about 12 now. He realized that some of these people were relations including some of the children and youth. Some were town people, he recognized the man that would bring the flour and other bulky supplies. He had no interest in any of them though. The boy realized people could not see the world as he did and he felt a detached and reserved acceptance to their presence but nothing more. He would cross the stream and go sit at his tree and watch the swirls of energy alive around him.


He found the kids frustrating in their simplicity, possibly even stupid. The adults fared no better ... they tried to make small talk with the boy now and then but to no avail. The boy was aware he must look after the grandmother now and promised himself and the strangers alike that he would.


The next important day in this life brought him to about the age of 14. He was much taller now, very lean. He was chopping kindling on the stump out front of the cabin. The outside of the cabin seemed a little more overgrown, a little unkempt. Upon the client being queried, it became apparent that now both grandparents were passed on. He was alone at this cabin. He foraged as he had been taught, read the  heavy old bible, still dug the occasional potatoes out of the clumps of dirt and grass at the side of the cabin. He  seemed to not want company though it appeared a townsman still made the trek every few months to check on the boy.


The next important day brought the client back to that stump where he chopped wood.

But this time the boy found himself laying back on the ground, silent in horror. Something had gone awry and the axe had bounced?


He lifted himself up on his arm and laid there calmly looking at his leg assessing the bloody horror of his leg being splayed open. He intuitively knew the prognosis would be bad and said so aloud.


(Practitioner) “What will “you” do. Is there anyone that can come help?”


“No.” said the “boy” quietly. He knew he would have to get himself into the cabin. The townsman had been by recently so no one would not return for some time.

This was not a superficial cut, he knew instinctively that this would not end well.


Moving the client to the next important time, the boy was now in the kitchen near the fire. Somehow he had managed to make a bed there, there were piles of dirty rags near by, some soaked in old dried blood. The leg was angry and hot with infection. The boy however, while lethargic in response, was matter-of-fact. This wound would take him. Yet he was not scared. There was an acceptance of what was to come, but a wistfulness in wishing the end would come sooner as this large infection obviously caused a great deal of pain though the client expressed none. (Practitioners remove any possibility of experiencing any discomfort in these experiences while the client is in trance, offering that the person can witness uncomfortable scenes as an observer)


Would anyone come in time? No.

What was he doing? Trying to prepare an onion poultice from the few onions remaining. There was nothing else to use.


He was biding his time, waiting for the inevitable end. At 14 there was an aged wisdom to this voice. An old man in a boy's body.


He was moved forward to the moment of death ( Once again, any anticipated discomfort removed) but the client greeted it welcoming, death was the release from this hot infection and the discomfort it entailed.


And he looked down at the body lying still on the straw bed he had fashioned in the kitchen a few months before. He was dispassionate about passing so young, simply relieved to be free of the infection and experience the “freedom” of being free of the body ... as he hovered over top he was then greeted by the lovely mother, long dark hair in a beautiful light yellow dress, there to greet her little boy. He thought he had forgotten her face but there she was and he knew her instantly. She had been waiting for him. She had been there all along even though he could never see her.


"Will somebody find you?"

"Not for a long time - months..."

"What will become of your body"

"They will burn the cabin with my body in it."

What was the purpose of this life? ...

”To listen”

“To listen?”

"To remember who you are."

"What was the lesson in this life?"

"I should not have isolated myself, I should have shared, shared who I was"


The client was a reluctant intuitive empath, some would say psychic - but the boy in the regression had been born with a rarely known  gift of perception - In another time or place this boy might have been an outstanding scientist or maybe a shaman or a medical intuitive. There had been an inherent understanding of sacred geometry evident that surpassed the client's conscious knowledge.  "Ernst" understood on an instinctive level, the eternal relationship and flow of everything that was around him. The knowledge that everything around him was alive with a symbiotic energy, nothing was random...


The client pondered this - to remember who you are?  This client had often struggled with  self esteem issues and a feeling of being different and alone in addition to being raised in a highly conservative house where to have shown this psychic awareness of what our world is "really" like would have brought swift punishment and ridicule. With the remainder of the session complete - the client could still  "see" the world of Ernst and all that flowed around him in the mind's eye.

In the noise and din of day to day life, the client suddenly felt empowered.


Remember who you are...


An important lesson for all of us. You are so much more than the sum of parts that you believe yourself to be  right now.

You are so much more than your occupation and the roles and labels assigned to you by family, friends, work associates ...


Whether you believe in past lives and reincarnation or whether you choose to view regression as a metaphor or an interesting story for you to view - we all have a special wisdom within us. Sometimes it reveals something unusual like Ernst's ability to see energy in motion in all things, practitioners have witnessed a client speak a language in trance that they did not previously know ...  That best part of us, the over-soul, highest self or whatever name you want to put to it is a repository of everything about you... what hidden gifts are within you?


Whether you choose to have a QHHT session or meditate, or maybe you are someone who has lucid dreams ... pay attention. There are all sorts of clues presented to you when you least expect it ... give yourself a chance to remember who you are ...

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