There — how’s that for a heading to have everyone convinced I’m a self-aggrandising nutter? We all know how everyone who believes in past lives thinks they’ve been someone famous, and no-one’s ever been anonymous and ordinary.
Well, actually I have recalled some very ordinary, anonymous lives. There was the fat German housewife with lots of children, a love of gossip and a fairly disappointing marriage. There was the itinerant Chinese vegetable seller, a young man with neither education nor prospects. And others more interesting but equally forgotten by history.
In fact I don’t think I was any of them, in the sense of being the same identity repackaged and recycled. That’s not how I view reincarnation. I think of the soul as being a very vast entity, pushing this focus of itself out into this reality. (Theoretically, then, one could meet another aspect of one’s soul during this — or any — particular lifetime.) This means that I might be able to access the memories of any other aspect of the same soul, but could not claim that I — this identity / personality / ego — WAS that other identity / personality / ego.
OK, so I wasn’t King Tut. However, during one soul regression, I most certainly had a vivid experience of being in his body and feeling his feelings. I — let us say ‘I’, as that’s what it felt like at the time — was standing in the temple, watching adoringly as my father Akhnaten performed the ritual. The temple had a huge opening in the roof, through which we could all see the blazing sun. As Tutankhamen, I spoke passionately to the person guiding me through the regression, explaining that it wasn’t true that Akhnaten was ugly (as his pictures and statues seem to suggest). I exclaimed: ‘My father was a beautiful, beautiful man!’
At that time, decades ago now, it was thought that Tutankhamen was not a child of Akhnaten. Imagine how vindicated I feel, now that there is clear evidence that he was. Incidentally, it appears that Akhnaten may not have been anywhere near as misshapen as the images portraying him have led us to believe. I can confirm the supposition that Tutankhamen was frail and sickly, too.
Some years after this regression, I became very friendly with a woman who had her own memories of having been Tutankhamen. Many of the details she recalled meshed with mine (and were not in the public domain). Around the same time, I met a psychic who confirmed that about my friend, and told me I had been Tutankhamen’s tutor, who was very close to him. This was puzzling and disconcerting of course, but then, in quite a different context, my friend and I received indications of being twin souls. I’m not sure what that means. Would twin souls share the same makeup, as physical (identical) twins do? Or does it mean we are different aspects of the same soul, happening to inhabit the same time period? Either way, I think it feasible that the me who is here now might have access to ‘his’ (Tutankhamen’s) memories and even emotions.
All I can say is, it sure felt real, and it sure felt like ‘me’ — though not this me who writes this now. And I certainly have a lot of emotion bound up in it all. Part of this me wants to leap with joy at the latest findings about Tutankhamen’s parentage, and yell: ‘See!!!’