Same Soul, Many Bodies

SAME SOUL,
MANY BODIES
DR BRIAN
WEISS
A u th o r o f M a n y Lives, M a n y M a s te rs -
1.5 m illion copies sold
Also by Brian L. W eiss, M.D.
M a n y Lives, M a n y M asters
T h ro u gh T im e into H ealing
O nly Love Is Real
Messages fro m the M asters
M e d ita tio n : A chieving Inner Peace an d

Tranquility in Your Life
DR BRIAN
WEISS
SAME S O U L ,
M A N Y B O D IES
GO
GO
PIATKUS
PIATKUS
First published in Great Britain in 2004 by Piatkus Books

First published in the United States 2004 by FREE PRESS
A division of Simon & Schuster Inc.
Copyright © Weiss Family Partnership 1, LLP 2004
Reprinted 2005 (three times), 2006 (twice), 2007
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those dearly in the public domain, are fictitious
and any resemblance to real persons,
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CONTENTS
A u t h o r ' s N ote vii
P reface 1
C h a p te r 1 Im m o rta lity 7
C h a p te r 2 George: A n g er M a n a g e m e n t 19
C h a p te r 3 Victoria, Evelyn, an d M ichelle: H e a lth 34
C h a p te r 4 S a m a n th a a n d M a x : E m p a th y 57
C h a p te r 5 H u g h a n d C hitra: C o m p a ssio n 75
C h a p te r 6 Paul: Patience a n d U n d e rsta n d in g 94
C h a p te r 7 Emily, Joyce, R o b e rta , a n d Anne:

N on v io len ce 108
C h a p te r 8 Bruce: R elationships 124
C h a p te r 9 Patrick: Security 137
C h a p te r 10 John: Free Will a n d D estiny 151
C h a p te r 11 C o n te m p la tio n a n d M e d ita tio n 166
C h a p te r 12 David: Spirituality 180
C h a p te r 13 Jennifer an d Cristina: Love 195
C h a p te r 14 G a ry . T h e F uture 213
Ac k n o w l e d g m e n t s 227
AUTHOR'S NOTE
In this b o o k , nam es an d oth er identifying inform ation—

occupations o r professions, geographical facts (cities,
streets), etc.— have been changed. O th e r than the alter
ation of such identifying inform ation, the events in the
sessions are reproduced as they occurred.
You will undou b ted ly spot som e anachronism s in the
dialogue, as certain critics have in my earlier books. In
M a n y Lives, M a n y Masters, for exam ple, the b.c . date that
Catherine m entions invalidated h er story for them, but this
"p ro o f of inauthenticity" to the skeptics is fool's gold. It is
easily explained by the fact th a t all my patien ts' memories
are filtered th ro u g h co n tem p o rary minds. They are aware
of today, th o u g h their m em ories are from the past— and,
in this bo o k , the future.
There is on e an d the sam e so u l in m a n y bodies.
Plotinus
PREFACE
Recently, I've been going to a place I've rarely been before: the fu
ture.
W hen C atherine cam e to me as a psychiatric patien t twenty-
four years ago, she recalled w ith stunning accuracy her travels
into past lives she had led th a t were as far a p a r t as the second m il
lennium b.c . a n d the middle of the tw entieth century, thereby
changing my life forever. Here was a w o m a n w ho reported expe
riences an d descriptions from centuries past th a t she could not
have k n ow n in this life, and I— a Yale- a n d C olum bia-trained
psychiatrist, a scientist— an d others were able to validate them.
N o th in g in my "science" could explain it. I only knew th a t
C atherine was rep o rtin g w hat she h a d actually seen an d felt.
As C atherine's therapy progressed, she b ro u g h t back lessons
from the M asters— incorporeal guides o r spirits possessed of
great w isdom — w ho su rrounded h er when she was detached
from her body. T his w isdom has inform ed m y th o u g h t an d gov
erned my behavior ever since. C atherine could go so deeply into
the past an d h a d such transcendent experiences th at, listening to
her, I felt a sense of magic an d mystery. H ere were realms I never
knew existed. I was exhilarated, astonished— an d scared. W h o
would believe me? D id I believe myself? W as I mad? I felt like a lit
tle boy w ith a secret that, when revealed, w ould change the way
we view life forever. Yet I sensed th a t n o one w ould listen. It to o k
PRFFACE
me four years to gather the courage to w rite o f Catherine's and

my voyages in M a n y Lives, M a n y Masters. I feared I would be
cast o u t of the psychiatric community, yet I became more and
m ore sure th a t w h at I was w riting was true.
In the intervening years my certainty has solidified, and m any
others, patients a n d therapists, have acknow ledged the tru th of
my findings. By now I have helped m ore th a n four th o u sa n d p a
tients by bringing them back thro u g h hypnosis to their p ast lives,
so my sense o f shock at the fact of rein carnation, if n o t the fasci
nation of discovery, has w orn off. But now the shock is back, and
I am revitalized by the implications. I can now bring my patients
into the future a n d see it w ith them.
Actually, I once tried to take C atherine into the future, b ut she
talked n o t of her ow n future b ut o f mine, seeing my d eath clearly.
It was unsettling to say the least! "W hen your tasks are c o m
pleted, your life will be ended," she told me, "b u t there's much
time before then. M u c h time." T h e n she drifted into a different
level, an d I learned no more.
M o n th s later I asked her if we could go into the future again.
I was talking directly to the M asters th e n as well as to her sub
conscious m ind, a n d they answered for her: It is n o t allowed. Per
haps seeing into the future w ould have frightened her too much.
O r maybe the tim in g w asn't right. I w as y o ung an d probably
c o u ld n 't have d ealt as com petently w ith the unique dangers th a t
progression into the future posed as I can now.
For on e thing, progressing into the future is m ore difficult for
a therapist th a n going into the p ast because the future has n o t yet
happened. W h a t if w h at a patien t experiences is fantasy, n o t fact?
H o w can we validate it? We can't. We k n o w th a t when we go back
to p ast lives, events have already h ap p en ed an d in m any cases can
be proven. But let's suppose a w o m a n of childbearing age sees the
world as being destroyed in tw enty years. " I'm n o t going to bring
a child into this w orld," she thinks. "It will die to o soon." W ho's
to say her vision is real? T h a t her decision was logical? She'd have
to be a very m atu re person to u n d e rsta n d th a t w hat she saw
prkfaci - - ----
migjit be d isto rtio n , fantasy, m etaphor, sym bolism , the actual fu
ture, o r perhaps a m ixture of all of these. A nd w h at if a person
foresaw his d e ath in two years— a d eath caused by, say, a d runk
driver? W ould he panic? Never drive again? W ould the vision in
duce anxiety attacks? N o , I told myself. D o n 't go there. I became
concerned a b o u t self-fulfilling p rophecy an d the unstable person.
T he risks of acting on delusion were to o great.
Still, over the tw enty-four years since C ath erin e was my p a
tient, a few o thers have gone into the future spontaneously, often
tow ard the end of their therapy. If I felt confident of their ability
to u n d e rsta n d th a t w h a t they were witnessing m ight be fantasy, I
encouraged th e m to go on. I'd say, "T h is is a b o u t growth and ex
periencing, helping you now to m ake p ro p e r a n d wise decisions.
But we're going to avoid any m em ories (yes, m em ories of the fu
ture!), visions, o r connections to any d e a th scenes o r serious ill
nesses. This is only for learning." A nd their m inds w ould do that.
T h e therapeutic value was appreciable. I found th a t these people
were m ak in g w iser decisions an d better choices. They could look
at a near future fork in the ro ad an d say, "If I take this p ath, w hat
will happen? W ould it be better to take the other?" A nd som e
times their look a t the future w ould com e true.
Some people w h o com e to m e describe precognitive events:
know ing w h at will h ap p en before it happens. Researchers into
n ear d eath experiences w rite a b o u t this; it's a concept th a t goes
back to prebiblical times. T h in k o f C assa n d ra w ho could accu
rately foretell th e future b ut w ho was never believed.
T h e experience o f one o f my patients dem onstrates the
power an d perils of precognition. She b egan having dream s of
the future, an d often w h at she d ream ed cam e to pass. T h e dream
th a t precipitated h er com ing to me was of h er son being in a ter
rible car accident. It was "real," she told me. She saw it clearly
and was panicked th a t her son w ould die in th a t way Yet the m an
in the dream had white hair, an d her son was a dark-haired m an
of twenty-five.
"L o o k ," I said, feeling suddenly inspired, thinking of C ather-
4 preface
me and sure th a t my advice was right, "I kn o w th a t m any of your

dream s have com e true, but it do esn 't m ean th a t this one will.
There are spirits— w hether you call them angels, guardians,
guides, o r G o d , it's all higher energy, higher consciousness
a ro u n d us. A nd they can intervene. In religious term s this is called
grace, the intervention by a divine being. Pray, send light, do
whatever you can in your own way."
She to o k my words literally an d prayed, m editated, wished
for, an d revisualized. Still, the accident happened. O nly it w asn't
a fatal accident. T here had been no need for her to panic. True,
her son suffered head injuries, b ut there was n o serious damage.
Nevertheless, it was a trau m atic event for him: W hen the doctors
removed the bandages from his head, they saw th a t his hair had
tu rn ed white.
Until a few m o n th s ago, on those rare occasions when I p ro

gressed my patients forw ard, it was usually into their ow n life
times. I did the progressions only when I th o u g h t the patient was
psychologically strong enough to handle them . O ften I was as u n
sure as they were a b o u t the m eaning of the scenes they brought
back.
Last spring, however, I was giving a series of lectures on a
cruise ship. In such sessions I often hypnotize my listeners en
masse, then lead th em into an earlier life an d back again to the
present. Some go back in time, some fall asleep, others stay where
they are, unhypnotized. T his time a m em b er of the audience—
Walter, a wealthy m a n who is a genius in the software business—
went into the future on his own. A nd he d id n 't go into his own
lifetime, he jum ped a millennium ahead!
H e h a d com e th ro u g h dark clouds to find himself in a differ
ent world. Some o f the areas, such as the M iddle East an d N o rth
Africa, were "off limits," perhaps because of radiation dam age,
perhaps because of an epidemic, but the rest of the world was
beautiful. T here were far fewer people inhabiting it, because of
preface --------- 5
nuclear catastro p h e or plague or the lowering of the fertility rate.

He r e m a in a ^ in the countryside an d so could n o t speak ab o u t
cities, bu t the people were content, happy, even blissful. H e said
he h a d n 't the right words to describe their state. W hatever had
thinned the p o p u la tio n had h appened long before. W h a t he saw
was idyllic. H e w asn 't sure of the date, b ut he was sure th a t it was
more th a n a th o u sa n d years from now.
T he experience helped him emotionally. H e was rich enough
to fantasize a b o u t changing the world, b ut now he realized no
one m an could d o that. There are to o m a n y politicians, he said,
who are n ot o pen to the concepts o f charity or global responsibil
ity T h e intention to m ake the world a better place was w hat m a t
tered, a long w ith the acts of charity he could personally perform.
W hen he returned to this life, he felt a little sad, possibly because
he was no longer in the idyllic future. O r he may have been griev
ing a b o u t the com ing calamity, sensing its inevitability a t some
level, as m o st of us do.
W hen he w as awake, he described the vivid and powerful
scenes, an d the feelings and sensations he h a d experienced. This
is one reason th a t I think this is n o t all im agination. Yet his ex
citement did n o t com e close to m atching mine, for I finally saw
the implications. I h a d com e to learn th a t past, present, and fu
ture are one a n d th a t w h a t happens in the future can influence the
present, just as the p ast influences it. T h a t nig h t I wrote: "We can
go into the future if it's d o n e wisely. T h e future, w hether n ear or
far, can be o u r guide. T h e future may be feeding back into the
present to influence us now into m a k in g better choices an d deci
sions. We can change w hat we're doin g now based on feedback
from the future. A nd th a t changes o u r futures in a more positive
direction."
T h in k of w h at th a t means! As we have h a d limitless past lives,
so will we have limitless future ones. Using o u r knowledge of
w hat went before a n d w hat is to come, we may be able to shape
the world's future an d our futures. This ties into the ancient co n
cept of k arm a: W h a t you do, so shall you reap. If you p lant better
6 - l ' RF. FACF.
seeds, grow better crops, and p erfo rm better actions, your h a r

vesting in the future will reward you.
Since then I have progressed m any others. Some have p r o
gressed into their ow n lives, som e into a global future. Science fic
tion, wish fulfillment, im agination— all these m ight explain w h at
they saw, b u t so m ight the possibility th a t they were actually
there. Perhaps the ultim ate lesson I can draw from this lifetime is
w h at the future holds and how we can all influence it. T h a t
know ledge, a t least as much of it as I have now, will color my next
lives an d yours on o u r voyage tow ard immortality.
T h e future is b o rn from the past. N early all my patients expe
rience p ast life regressions before they journey into their future.
This ro u te paves the way for increased u n d erstan d in g a n d allows
th em to m ake wise choices in the present.
T h a t the future is flexible a n d th a t we will be present in th a t
future are the concepts th a t are addressed in this book. C o m p a s
sion, empathy, nonviolence, patience, a n d spirituality are life les
sons we m u st all learn. This book will show you why they are
crucial th ro u g h the examples of som e of my m o st rem arkable p a
tients, a n d I will ad d som e simple exercises to begin to teach you
how to achieve them in this life. A few of you m ight actually ex
perience regressions, but d o n 't be d isappointed if they d o n 't
occur. If you m aster the lessons, this life a n d your n ext lives will
be happier, easier, em otionally richer, a n d m o re fulfilled. W h a t is
m ore, if all o f us learn them , the future itself will be better for us
cumulatively, since knowingly or n o t we are all striving to achieve
the u ltim ate goal which is love.
chapter 1
Immortality
ach of us is immortal.
JL -j I d o n 't m ean simply th a t we pass o n o u r genes, o u r be
liefs, o u r m annerism s, and o u r "ways" to o u r children a n d they,
in tu rn , to their children, th o u g h of course we do. N o r do I m ean
th a t o u r accom plishm ents— th e w o rk of art, the new way of
m aking shoes, the revolutionary idea, the recipe for blueberry
pie— live after us, though o f course they do. I m ean th a t the m o st
im p o rta n t p a rt of us, o u r soul, lives forever.
Sigmund Freud described the m in d as functioning on differ
ent levels. A m o n g th e m is w h at he called the unconscious m ind,
of which we are n o t aware, by definition, b ut which stores all o u r
experience an d directs us to act as we do, th in k as we do, respond
as we do, feel as we do. O nly by accessing the unconscious, he
saw, can we learn w ho we are and, w ith th a t knowledge, be able
to heal. Some people have w ritten th a t th a t is w hat the soul is—
Freud's unconscious. A nd in m y w ork o f regressing people— and,
lately, progressing people— to their p ast an d future lives so th a t
they can m ore easily heal themselves, this is w h at I see, too: the
w orking of the im m o rta l soul.
I believe th a t each of us possesses a soul th a t exists after the
8 B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . I ) .
death of the physical body and th a t it returns time an d time again

to oth er bodies in a progressive effort to reach a higher plane.
(One of th e questions th a t comes up frequently is "W here do the
souls com e from since there are so m any m ore people now than
when the w orld started?" I have posed this question to m any p a
tients, and the answer is always the same: T his is no t the only
place where there are souls. There are m any dimensions, m any
different levels of consciousness where there are souls. W hy
should we feel th a t we're the only place? T here is no limit to en
ergy. T his is one school of m any schools. Also, a few patients have
told me th a t souls can split an d have sim ultaneous experiences.)
T here is n o empirical evidence for this; the soul does n o t have
D N A , at least n o t the physical kind described by the N obel
Prize-w in n in g scientists Jam es W atson and Francis Crick. But
the anecdotal evidence is overwhelming an d to me unassailably
conclusive. I have seen it virtually every day since C atherine to o k
me w ith her to p ast times as disparate as A rabia in 1863 b.c . an d
Spain in a .d. 1756.
For exam ple, there are Elizabeth a n d Pedro (in O nly Love Is
Real), lovers in form er lives who cam e to g ether again in this one;
Linda (in T hrough T im e into Healing), guillotined in Scotland,
m arried in Italy centuries later to h er present-day grandfather,
and later still grow ing old in H o lla n d , su rro u n d ed by her large
an d loving family; D an, Laura, and H o p e (in Messages from the
M asters); an d some four th o u sa n d others— som e I've w ritten
about, m o st n o t— w hose souls have journeyed thro u g h past lives,
carrying the im m o rtal p a rt o f them to the present. (Some o f these
patients could speak foreign languages in their past lives th a t
they'd never learned or studied in this one, a p h e n o m en o n called
xenoglossy an d a remarkable "p ro o f" th a t w h a t they were re
p o rtin g was true.)
W hen my patients rem em bered themselves in their other
lives, the tra u m a s th a t had bro u g h t th em to see me in the first
place were eased an d in some cases cured. T h a t is one o f the
soul's p rim ary purposes: to progress tow ard healing.
SAMI - ' S O I I I , M A N Y B O D I E S ------ 9
If it were only I who had seen such cases, then you might be
right in thin k in g I was hallucinating or h a d lost my m ind, but
Buddhists an d H in d u s have been accum ulating p ast life cases for
thousands of years. Reincarnation was w ritten of in the N ew
Testam ent until th ^ tim e o f C o nstantine, when the Rom ans cen
sored it. Jesus himself may have believed in it, for he asked the
Apostles if they recognized Jo h n the Baptist as Elijah returned;
Elijah h a d lived nine hundred years before John. It is a fu n d a m e n
tal tenet of Jewish mysticism; in som e sects it was standard teach
ing until the early nineteenth century.
H u n d re d s of oth er therapists have taped th o u san d s of past
life sessions, an d m any of their p a tien ts' experiences have been
verified. I myself have checked specific details an d events re
corded in Catherine's and others' p a st life m em ories— accurate
details an d events impossible to ascribe to false m em o ry or fa n
tasy. I no longer d o u b t th a t rein carnation is real. O u r souls have
lived before an d will live again. T h a t is o u r immortality.
Just before we die, o u r soul, th a t p a r t o f us which is aware when it

leaves the body, pauses for a m o m en t, floating. In th a t state it can
differentiate color, hear voices, identify objects, an d review the
life it has just d eparted. This p h e n o m e n o n is called an out-of-
body experience, an d it has been d o c u m e n te d th o usands of
times, m o st fam ously by Elisabeth Kiibler-Ross an d R ay m o n d
Moody. Each of us experiences it w hen we die, bu t only a few
have com e back to present life to re p o rt o n it.
O n e was reported to me (I m entioned it briefly in O nly Love
Is Real), n ot by the patient herself but by her cardiologist at
M o u n t Sinai M edical Center in M iam i, a scientist w ho is very ac
ademic an d very grounded. T h e patien t, an elderly diabetic, was
hospitalized for medical tests. D u rin g her hospitalization she had
a cardiac arrest (her h eart stopped beating), and she became
com atose. D octors held o u t little hope. Nevertheless, they
worked feverishly on her and called on her cardiologist for help.
10 — --— B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . I X
He rushed into the intensive care u nit a n d in so doin g d ro p p ed his

distinctive gold pen, which rolled across the room an d u n d e r a
window. D u rin g a sh o rt break in the resuscitation process, he re
trieved it.
W hile the team worked on her, the w o m a n reported later, she
floated o u t of her body and w atched the entire procedure from a
p o in t above the medicine cart, n ear th a t window. She watched
w ith great co n centration since it was she the doctors were w o rk
ing on. She longed to call ou t to them , to assure them th a t she was
all right a n d th a t they d id n 't have to w ork so frantically, but she
knew they c o u ld n 't h ear her. W hen she tried to tap her cardiolo
gist on the sh oulder to tell him she was fine, h er h a n d w ent right
thro u g h him , an d he felt nothing. She could see everything th a t
was going o n aro u n d her body a n d h e a r every w ord her doctors
said, yet, to her fru stration, n o b o d y w ou ld listen to her.
T h e d o c to rs' efforts succeeded. T h e w o m a n returned to life.
"I w atched the whole process," she told h er cardiologist.
H e was flabbergasted. "You c o u ld n 't have. You were u n c o n
scious. You were comatose!"
" T h a t was a pretty pen you d ro p p e d ," she said. "It m ust be
very valuable."
"You saw it?"
"I just to ld you I did," she said a n d proceeded to describe the
pen, the clothes the doctors an d nurses wore, the succession of
people w ho came in an d o u t of the ICU, a n d w h at each did—
things n o b o d y could have k n o w n w ith o u t having been there.
T h e cardiologist was still shaken days later when he told me
a b o u t it. H e confirmed th a t everything the w o m a n related had in
deed taken place a n d th a t her descriptions were accurate. Yet
there was n o question th a t she was unconscious; moreover, she
had been blind for m ore th a n five years! H e r soul had sight, n o t
her body.
Since then the cardiologist has told me of dying patients who
have seen fam iliar long-deceased people w aiting to take them to
the oth er side. These were patients w ho were n ot o n medications
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES -II
of any kind a n d were therefore lucid. O n e described his g ra n d

m o th e r w aiting patiently in a chair in his hospital ro o m for his
time to come. A n o th er was visited by her child who had died in
infancy. T h e cardiologist noted th a t a m o n g this po p u latio n of his
patients there was a calmness, a serenity a b o u t dying. H e learned
to tell his patients: "I'm very interested in w h at you feel and w hat
you experience. N o jjia tte r how strange o r unusual it may seem,
you're safe in talking ab o u t it to m e." W h en they did, their fear of
d eath decreased.
M o re commonly, those w ho are resuscitated rep o rt seeing
light, often golden an d at a distance, as th o u g h at the end o f a
tunnel. A ndrea, a news repo rter for a m ajo r television netw ork,
allowed me to regress her as a d em o n stra tio n an d described her
life as a G re a t Plains farm w o m a n in the nineteenth century. At
the end o f her long lifetime she floated above her body, w atching
it from afar. T h e n she felt she was being draw n up into a light, in
her case a blue one, becom ing increasingly distanced from her
body a n d going tow ard a new life, one th a t was as yet unclear.
This is a c o m m o n , alm ost classic n ear d eath experience except
th a t A ndrea was describing the experience of someone in a p ast
life— herself— w ho had been dead for m ore th a n one hu n d red
years.
W here does the soul go after it leaves the body? I'm n o t sure; there
may be n o w o rd for it. I call it an o th e r dim ension, a higher level of
consciousness o r higher state of consciousness. T he soul cer
tainly exists outside of the physical body, a n d it makes connec
tions n o t only to the oth er lifetimes of the person it just dep arted
but to all o th e r souls. We die physically, bu t this p a rt of us is in
destructible an d im m ortal. T h e soul is timeless. Ultimately, there
is probably just one soul, one energy. M a n y people call this G o d ,
while o thers call it love; again, the n am e do esn 't matter.
I see the soul as a body of energy th a t blends w ith universal
energy, then splits off again, intact, w hen it returns to a new life.
12 B R I A N I . WEISS, M.D.
Before it merges w ith the O ne, it looks dow n on the body it has
left an d c onducts w hat I call a life review, a review of the life just
d ep arted . T h e review is un d ertak en in a spirit of loving kindness
and caring. It is n o t for p unishm ent, it is for learning.
Your soul registers its experience. It feels the appreciation and
gratitude o f everyone you have helped and everyone you have
loved in a heightened way now th a t it has left the body. Similarly,
it feels the pain, anger, and despair of everyone you have h u r t or
betrayed, again magnified. In this way the soul learns n o t to do
h arm fu l things b ut to be com passionate.
O nce the soul has finished its review, it seems to go further
from your body, often finding the beautiful light as A ndrea's a n
cestor did, th o u g h this may n o t h ap p en immediately. It doesn't
m atter; the light is always there. Sometimes there are oth e r souls
aro u n d — you could call them m asters o r guides— who are very
wise a n d help your soul on its journey tow ard the O ne. At some
level your soul merges w ith the light, but it still retains its aware
ness so th a t it can continue to learn on the other side. It is a si
m ultan eo u s merging with a greater light (at the end of the
im m o rtal journey, the merging will be complete), accom panied
by feelings of indescribable bliss a n d joy, and the awareness th a t it
rem ains individuated and still has lessons to learn, b oth on E arth
and o n the o th er side. Eventually— the time varies— the soul d e
cides to com e back in another body, an d w hen it reincarnates, the
sense of m erging is lost. Some people believe there is a profound
sadness a t the separation from this glory, this bliss in the merging
of energy an d light, and it may be so.
O n E a rth , in the present, we are individuals, but individua
tion is an illusion characteristic of this plane, this dim ension, this
planet. Yes, we are here, as real a n d substantial as the chair on
which you may be sitting as you read. But scientists know th a t a
chair is just atom s, molecules, energy; it is a chair a nd it is energy.
We are h u m a n , finite, and we are im m ortal.
I th in k th a t at the highest level all souls are connected. It is
ou r illusion o r grand delusion th a t we are individuated, separate.
S A M E S O U L , M A N Y BODI t' . S — - 1.)
Even as th a t pertains here, we are nevertheless connected to every

oth er soul; thus, in a different sphere, we are all one. O n this
world o u r bodies are dense and physically heavy; they suffer from
illness a n d disease. But in higher realms, I believe, no physical ill
ness exists. In still higher realms there is nothing physical, only
pure consciousness. A nd beyond th a t— and beyond th a t— in
realms we ca n n o t co m prehend and where all souls are one, even
time d o esn 't exist. This means th a t past, present, and future lives
may be occurring simultai^ously.
I'm a medical d o cto r an d a psychiatrist, and healing is m y life's

passion. I believe we are each instinctively motivated tow ard spir
itual healing a n d spiritual grow th, tow ard understanding and
com passion, tow ard evolution. I believe we move spiritually for
ward, n o t backw ard. T h e unconscious (or subconscious o r su-
perconscious m ind o r soul) has built w ithin it a mechanism th a t
steers it along a positive p ath of spiritual evolution. In other
words, the soul always, at all times, evolves tow ard health. At a
higher level, time is m easured in lessons learned, though on E arth
it is chronological. We live b o th in tim e and o u t of it. O u r past
and future lives converge in the present, and if they can induce us
toward healing now so th a t o u r current lives are healthier and
more spiritually fulfilled, we will m ake progress. T he feedback
loop is continuous, trying to get us to improve our future lives
even as we live o u t this one.
I th in k m an y of us spend to o much tim e w orrying a b o u t w ha t
the higher levels of com prehension m ight be. T h e question is fas
cinating to contem plate, but ou r goal here is to heal ourselves as
we are in o u r physical world. I see a lot of people, particularly
N ew Age people, who aren't well grounded in this world— being
right here, now. Progression in the areas of contem plation and
m editation is im p o rta n t, but those who spend their lives in seclu
sion should u nderstand th a t we are a social species and those
who do not experience the joys of the physical, the pleasures of
14 B
RI A N I . WEISS, M.D.
the senses aren't learning the full lesson this present life has to
teach then,.
As I said, until recently I have only regressed patients so th a t
they see and understand their past lives. N o w I have begun to
progress tliem into the future. But even if we study only o u r p ast
lives, we c ln see how we have evolved w ithin them. Each of ou r
lives is a learning experience, a n d if we gain w isdom from our
past lives, then through free will— conscious free will, th a t is, and
the free will of the soul— we can affect the present.
O u r souls choose our parents, for o u r impulse is to continue the

learning process so we can proceed tow ard healing. We choose
w hat we d 0 in o u r present life for the same reason. We d o n o t
choose abusive parents, for no one w ants to be abused. Yet some
parents become abusive (it is their free will) and in a later life, or
perhaps in this one, they will learn the lesson of com passion an d
stop th a t behavior.
I chose to come back as the son o f Alvin a n d D orothy Weiss,
and to be a psychiatrist. In my previous life I was an u n derground
Czech resistance fighter, killed in 1942 o r '43. Perhaps the way I
died led m e to my present study of im m ortality; perhaps my de
sire to stu d y a n d teach was a carryover from an earlier life as a
priest in ancient Babylonia. W hatever, I chose to com e back as
Brian W ei\s so I could maximize m y personal learning a n d share
it w ith o th e rs by becom ing a healer. I selected my parents because
they m a d e it easy for me to learn. M y father revered academics
and w a n te d m e to become a doctor. H e was also interested in re
ligion a n d ta u g h t me about Ju d aism , but he did n 't force it. So I
became a secular rabbi, a psychiatrist. M y m oth er was loving and
n on ju d g m en tal. She gave me a sense of safety th a t in later life al
lowed m e to risk my career a n d financial security by publishing
M a n y Liv<<s> M a n y Masters. N e ith e r p arent was spiritual in the
N ew Age sense, n o r did they believe in reincarnation. I chose
them, it seem s, because they offered me sup p o rt and the freedom
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - — — 15
to go on the life p a th I eventually selected. Was anyone involved

with m e in th a t decision? I wonder. Spirits, guides, angels, all of
them p a r t of the one soul? I d o n 't know.
True, som e soul chose to come back as S addam H ussein, a n
oth er as O s a m a bin Laden. I believe they came back to maximize
their learning opportunities, the same as you and me. They did
not choose to com e back initially to do h arm , to cause violence
and blow up oth er people and become terrorists. They came back
to resist th a t urge, probably because they h a d succum bed to it in
previous lifetimes. They came back for a kind o f field test in this
school we live in, an d they failed miserably.
T his is all speculation, o f ^ m r s e , but I believe their souls
came back to inhabit them in an effort to find alternatives to vio
lence, prejudice, an d hatred. (The abusive parent's soul comes
back for the same reason.) They am assed money and power, and
faced the choice o f violence or com passion, prejudice o r teach
ing, hatred or love. This time we k n o w their decision. They will
have to com e back again, face the consequences of their actions,
face the choices again, until they are able to move forward.
Students ask me why anyone w ould choose to come back to
live in a rat-infested slum in Bogota or H arlem . T he Buddhist
m onks I've met, the entourage of the D alai L am a, laugh a t the
question because they see life as a stage perform ance. T he m a n in
the slum is just a role; in the next lifetime the sam e actor will a p
pear as a prince. I believe we choose to com e into a rat-infested
a p a rtm e n t because we have to u n d e rsta n d w h a t it is like to be
poor; in oth er lifetimes we will be rich. We m ust be rich, poor,
male, female, healthy, sickly, big, small, strong, and weak. If in
one lifetime I'm wealthy and som eone else is living as I once did,
in the slums o f Bogota, then I will w an t to help th a t person be
cause it will be a step in my ow n growth.
There are tw o vital elements at w ork here. First, we can n o t
learn everything in one lifetime. T h a t doesn 't m atter because
there are n um erous lifetimes to come. Second, each time we come
back, it is to be healed.
O u r lives are a series of steps up the evolutionary scale. W here are

we, then, when we are completely healed, when we reach the top
of the staircase? Probably at the highest spiritual level, which
some call heaven, others nirvana.
I believe th a t o u r planet was created as a place to experience
em otions, sensations, feelings, and relationships. H ere we can be
in love an d feel great pleasure a n d joy. We can smell flowers, touch
a baby's skin, see the glory of a landscape, hear the music of the
wind. Th a t was the intent. W h a t a classroom!
In the next years o u r great test will be w hether we w a n t to
h o n o r this school o r destroy it, as m o d ern technology has m ade it
possible for us to do. I'm n o t sure o u r free will can m ake th a t
choice; it may be o u r destiny. If a higher m ind, the Oneness, de
cides th a t o u r planet is w orth preserving, then it w o n 't be de
stroyed. If it does not, an d we vaporize the world, ou r souls will
nevertheless endure; they would find an o th er school.
But it may n o t be as beautiful as o u r world; it may n o t be as
physical.
O u r souls are all the same age, which is ageless, but some souls
advance m ore quickly th an others. S addam H ussein may be a
third grader, while the Dalai L am a is in graduate school. In the
end we will all grad u ate to the O ne. H o w quickly we progress de
pends on o u r free will.
T h e free will I am w riting a b o u t here isn't the same as ou r
soul's ability to choose ou r parents an d o u r circumstances.
Rather, it is h u m a n will, and we are in control of it on E arth. I
distinguish it from destiny, which often brings us together with
an o th e r for good or for ill.
It is free will th a t lets us choose w hat we eat, ou r cars, ou r
clothes, o u r vacations. Free will allows us to select ou r partners as
SA M E SOUL, M A N Y BODIES — 17
well, th o u g h it is probably destiny th a t draws us to them and they

to us. I m et Carole, my wife, in the Catskill M o untains; I was a
busboy, an d she was a guest at the hotel where I was working.
Destiny. T h e course of o u r relationship— like the course of h u n
dreds of millions of other relationships— depended on o u r free
will. We chose to date, an d we chose to marry.
Similarly, we can choose to increase o u r capacity to love or be
com passionate; we can choose to perform the little acts of k in d
ness th a t bring us internal satisfaction; we can choose generosity
over selfishness, respect over prejudice. In every aspect of ou r lives
we can choose to make the loving decision, and by doing so, ou r
souls will evolve. ^
John E. M ack , M.D., the Pulitzer Prize—winning author and
professor of psychiatry at H arvard Medical School, points out th a t
we are now witnessing a com ing together of science,

psychology, an d spirituality after centuries of ideological
and disciplinary fragm entation. Both m o d ern physics
and depth psychology are revealing to us a universe in
which . . . all th a t we can perceive aro u n d us is connected
by resonances, both physical and nonphysical, th a t can
m ake the possibility of universal justice, tru th and love
m ore th a n just a Utopian fantasy.
A t the h ea rt of this possibility lie w h at in the
Western secular world are called "non-o rd in a ry " states
of consciousness, but in the world's great religious
traditions is variously called prim ary religious feeling,
mystical oneness, connection w ith the groun d of being,
or universal love. . . . At the heart of these states of
consciousness or being is a potential extension of the
self beyond its usual boundaries.
I would substitute "soul" for "self" and add th at the b o u n d

aries exceed the measurable universe.
It has taken me tw enty-four years to reach the simple tru th a t the

core o f this book. We are im m ortal. We are eternal. O u r souls
will never die. T his being so, we should start acting as if we know
th a t im m o rtality is o u r blessing. O r, to p u t it m ore simply, we
sh o u ld prepare for im m ortality— here, now, today and to m o rro w
and each day for the rest of ou r lives. If we prepare, ou r souls will
move up the evolutionary scale, com e closer to healing, com e
closer to the higher state. If we d o n 't, we will recycle ou r present
lives— in effect, march in place— a n d postp o n e to a future life the
m astering of the lesson we might have learned in this one.
H o w d o we prepare? H o w do im m o rta l people act? In this life
we prepare by learning how to have better relationships; how to
be m ore loving, m ore com passionate; how to be healthier physi
cally, emotionally, an d spiritually; how to help others; how to
enjoy this world an d yet advance its evolution, advance its heal
ing. By prep arin g for im m ortality we will quiet present fears, feel
better a b o u t ourselves, and grow spiritually. A nd we will be heal
ing o u r future lives at the exact sam e m om ent.
Now, th an k s to the progressions th a t my patients have experi
enced a n d reported back to me, we can see the results of o u r pres
ent behavior an d thus shape it for the future. If we can accelerate
the healing process, the evolutionary process, th a t is the m ost
therapeutic action we can take, the best thing we can do, n o t only
for o u r ow n souls but for everyone in the world. This is w h a t I
have learned from my patients.
C H A P T E R 2
George:
Anger Management
s
nger management is one of the skills we can learn now in
A l . order to avoid repetitions of violence in o u r lives to come.

T h e following case history is of a m an I treated before I began
progressing som e of my patients. H a d he been able to see w hat
lay in the years ahead, his treatm en t m ight have gone m ore
quickly.
George Skulnick was doing his best to destroy himself. Despite a

history of a h ea rt attack and high blood pressure, he was over
weight, sm oked heavily, worked to o hard, canceled vacations at
the last m o m en t, a n d misused his h e a rt medications by either for
getting to take them or, to com pensate, by taking too m any at a
time. H e h a d already suffered one serious h eart attack and was
prim ed for another.
His cardiologist, Barbara Tracy, recom m ended th a t he see me
for stress m anagem ent.
"G eo rg e is a tough case," B arbara h ad w arned. "Beware of
explosions."
And now here he was in my office w ith his wife, a w o m a n in
- [9 -----
her mid-forties who looked at me w ith w hat I took to be pleading

eyes.
"Betty will sit in the waiting ro o m ," George said, "in case you
need her."
"If you w o u ld n 't m ind," I said gently, turning to her.
" N o t at all." She gave me one last pleading look and then left
the office, closing the d o o r behind her.
G eo rg e was a s q u at, solid, po w erful-looking man w ith m a s
sive a rm s, to o g reat a sto m ach, a n d surprisingly spindly legs, a
n o n a th le tic Babe Ruth. H is m o o n face w as florid; capillaries h a d
b urst a ro u n d his nose, hinting at heavy drinking. I judged him to
be nearly sixty, th o u g h it tu rn e d o u t he was only fifty-two.
"You're the reincarnation doctor," he said— a fact, n o t a
question.
"I am ."
"I d o n 't believe in th at crap."
If he was trying to unnerve me, it d id n 't work. " M a n y people
d o n 't."
"Dr. Tracy said you practiced som ething called regression
therapy."
"Yes. O ften it leads the patient back to past lives."
"Bullsh— " H e stopped himself an d raised a hand. "D o n 't get
me wrong. I'm gam e for anything if it'll prevent ano th e r attack."
Actually, George had once reported a near death experience
to Barbara. D u rin g his h eart attack he h ad felt himself rising o u t
of his body tow ard a cloud of blue light. While he was floating, he
became aware of a thought: Everything was going to be all right.
This know ledge calm ed him, and he w anted to tell his family
ab o u t it. From his vantage point he could see where his wife and
two children were. T hey were extremely anxious, and he w anted
to reassure them but couldn't. H e glanced away for another view
of his body, and when he looked back, he could see they weren't
paying any atten tio n to him. It was as if it was years after his
death. T his event persuaded him to com e to me.
SAME SOUL, M AN Y B O D I E S -—
31
"W h y d o n 't we decide w h a t to d o after I find o u t m ore a b o u t

you," I said. "Dr. Tracy says y ou're in the co n stru ctio n business."
"Skulnick C ontractors. We specialize in factories, w are
houses, an d office buildings. You m ust have seen ou r signs.
They're all over M iam i."
I h a d indeed.
"It's a lot of headaches," he continued. " C o n stan t pres-sure.
If I d o n 't oversee every site personally, someone's sure to
screw up."
" W h a t happens if they do?"
H is eyes flashed. "I get angry."
I knew from B arbara th a t rage was the greatest danger
George faced, a knife poised at his heart. "Tell me a b o u t the
anger," I said.
"I lose control. I'm a screamer. M y face gets red, and I feel my
h eart p u m p in g an d ab o u t to explode." His breath quickened
even as he talked. "I w an t to lash out, hit somebody, kill so m e
body. I get so m ad ."
" W h a t a b o u t when you're w ith your wife, your family?"
"It's just as bad, maybe worse. Sometimes I'll be furious at
som ebody in the office, have a few drinks on my way hom e, and
com e in looking for a fight. D inner n o t ready? Pow! H aven't done
your hom ew ork? W hap!" H e lowered his head to his palms.
"T he y 're terrified of me. I d o n 't really hit them , of course. But
there may com e a time— "
"I see. M ay b e we can find o u t where the rage comes from ."
H e raised his head. "M y father, I suppose. H e was a screamer,
a n d he d ran k , too."
" T h a t m ight explain it," I said, "b u t maybe there's m ore."
"S om ething th a t h appened in a past life?"
I shrugged. "It's possible."
"And you th in k regression will help?"
"I believe it's im p o rta n t for you, yes, though I could help you
th rou g h traditional psychotherapy, and you might prefer that.
2 2 ---------------- B R I A N I . W E I S S , M . D .
The fact th a t you had a near d eath episode makes me think you'll
regress easily. A nd if it's u npleasant for you o r painful or to o in
tense, I'll k n o w im mediately and we'll stop."
He was silent for a m om ent. Then: "You use hypnosis, right?"
"Yes."
"If I'm hypnotized, how will you know if I w ant to stop?"
"You'll tell me."
"From my oth er life?"
"Exactly."
I could see a yeah, sure form in his brain, but all he said was
"C om e on. Let's give it a try."
In Through T im e into Healing I w ro te the following:
H ypnosis is the main technique I use to help patients

access p a st life m e m o r ie s .. . . O n e goal of hypnosis, as
well as m editation, is to access the su b c o n sc io u s .. . . In
the subconscious m ind m ental processes occur w ith o u t
our conscious perception of them . We experience
m o m en ts of intuition, w isdom , a n d creativity when
these processes flash into o u r conscious awareness.
T h e subconscious is n o t limited by ou r imposed
b oundaries of logic, space, a n d time. It can rem em ber
everything, from any time. . . . It can transcend the
o rd in ary to to uch u p o n a w isdom far beyond ou r every
day capabilities. H ypnosis accesses the w isdom of the
subconscious in a focused way in order to achieve heal
ing. We are in hypnosis whenever the usual relationship
between the conscious an d subconscious m in d is recon
figured so th a t the subconscious plays a m ore d o m in an t
role. . . .
W hen you are hypnotized, you are n o t asleep. Your
conscious m ind is always aware of w hat you are experi
encing while you are hypnotized. Despite the deep sub-
S A M E S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S -—
3
conscious contact, your m ind can com m ent, criticize,

an d censor. You are always in control of w hat you say.
H ypnosis is n o t a "tru th serum ." You do no t enter a
time m achine and suddenly find yourself tran sported
to an o th e r time and place w ith no awareness of the
present. . . .
It may so u n d as th o ugh it requires a great deal of
skill to reach these deeper levels of hypnosis. However,
each o f us experiences them w ith ease every day as we
pass thro u g h the state between wakefulness and sleeping
kno w n as the hypnagogic state. . . .
Listening to someone's guiding voice aids in focusing
concentration and helps a p atient to reach a deeper level
of hypnosis an d relaxation. T here is no danger in hyp
nosis. N o person I have ever hypnotized has become
"stuck" in th e hypnotic state. You can emerge from a
state of hypnosis whenever you w ant. N o one has ever
violated his or her m oral and ethical principles. N o one
has involuntarily acted like a chicken o r a duck. N o one
can control you. You are in control.
In hypnosis, your m ind is always aware and observ
ing. This is why people w ho may be deeply hypnotized
an d actively involved in a childhood o r past life sequence
of m em ories are able to answer the therapist's questions,
speak their current life language, know the geographical
places they are seeing, and even kn o w the year, which
usually flashes before their inner eyes or just appears in
their minds. T h e hypnotized m ind, always retaining an
awareness a n d a knowledge of the present, puts the
childhood or past life m em ories into context. If the year
1900 flashes, an d you find yourself building a pyram id in
ancient Egypt, you k n o w th a t the year is b.c ., even if you
d o n 't see those actual letters.
This is also why a hypnotized patient, finding h im
self a p easant fighting in a medieval E uropean war, for
24 B R I A N I . W E ISS, M . D .
example, can recognize people from th at past lifetime

w h o m he knows in his current life. This is why he can
speak m o d e rn English, com pare the crude weapons of
th at time with those he might have seen or used in this
lifetime, give dates, and so on.
His present-day m ind is aware, watching, c o m m e n t
ing. H e can always com pare the details and events with
those of his current life. H e is the movie's observer and
its critic and usually its star at the sam e time. And all the
while, he can remain in the relaxed, hypnotic state.
H ypnosis puts the patient in a state th at holds great
potential for healing by giving the patient access to the
subconscious mind. To speak metaphorically, it puts the
p atien t in the magical forest th a t holds the healing tree.
But if hypnosis lets the patient into th a t healing country,
it is the regression process th a t is the tree th a t holds the
sacred berries he or she m ust eat to heal.
Regression therapy is the m ental act of going back to
an earlier time, whenever th a t time may be, in order to
retrieve m em ories th a t may still be negatively influencing
a patient's present life and th a t are probably the source
of the patient's symptoms. H ypnosis allows the mind
to short-circuit conscious barriers to tap this
inform ation, including those barriers th a t prevent
patients from consciously accessing their past
lives.
I would escort George into th a t forest, m aintaining my role as

therapist by m aking no effort to suggest or influence w hat berries
he m ight find on the tree, by keeping my voice calm and soothing
to ensure his com fort and relaxation, by asking only those ques
tions th a t would allow him to further describe w hat he was see
ing, by showing no surprise, by m aking no m oral judgments, by-
giving no interpretation but instructing him in selected in
stances— in short, by acting as a guide.
35
H e sat on a small, com fortable couch. I faced him from my

chair. "R elax," I said. "Close your eyes. . . ." A nd we began.
N eith er of us knew w hat he w ould find.
"I'm an innkeeper," he said, "a G e rm a n innkeeper. I'm lying on a

bed in a ro o m upstairs, ou r bedroom . It's the M iddle Ages. I'm an
old m an , over seventy, and very w eak, though recently I was
strong. I can see myself clearly. I'm u nkem pt, my clothes are
soiled. I'm sick. M y once powerful arm s are thin now. M y back
muscles, w ith which I could lift boulders, have atrophied. I have
barely enough strength to sit up." H e looked at me from a dis
tance of seven centuries an d bowed his head. "I have no heart."
His family surrounded him. "I was unkind to them all. M e a n
to my wife. M e a n to my children. I neglected them , d rank, and
had affairs w ith other w om en. But they were dependent on me,
could n 't leave me, even though I abused them . M y rages were vi
olent. They were afraid of me."
Recently, he had suffered a stroke o r heart attack, and now it
was he w ho was d ependent on them . But despite his abusiveness
and neglect, they to o k care of him w ith com passion, even with
love. His wife in his present life was his son in his past life, and his
d au g h te r in his present life was his wife in his past one.
(Such p e rm u ta tio n s are c o m m o n . T h o se w ho are im p o r ta n t
in a present life were i m p o r ta n t in p a st ones an d rem ain w ith us.)
His family tended to him tirelessly and w ith o u t com plaint,
for he was too sick to d o anything for himself. Eventually, his
body, ruined by years of excessive drinking, gave out, and he
floated above his grieving family, looking dow n on them , feeling
guilty th a t he had treated them so abysmally.
It is a t the time of the death of the body th a t one conducts a
life review, an d he reported th a t guilt was w hat he felt most, guilt
for a life misspent.
"Let go of your guilt," I told him. "There's no need for it any
more. T h e family is fine, and guilt is holding von back."
B R I A N I . WKISS, M.D.
Together we reviewed his life as an innkeeper. W h at lessons

could he draw from it? H e was still hypnotized, still in the inn,
still aware of the instant he died. His thoughts were expressed in
choppy sentences, but the feelings behind them were clear and
pure.
"There's great foolishness in d anger and violence," he said.
"Bodies are fragile and temporary. There is safety in love and
com passion. All families need n u rturing and sustenance. I
needed to nurture them, just as they nurtured me. T he greatest
pow er is the power o f love."
All this he reported with the force of revelation. W hen he fin
ished, he seemed exhausted, so I b rought him gently back to the
present, an d we were able to discuss his insights, w hat he had
found when he w ent back. H e left feeling dazed— the first regres
sion is unfailingly powerful— and prom ised to return the follow
ing week.
W hen he left, I jotted a note to myself: "C a n see future life
seeds planted here, to his current life. Again a he art attack. Again
abuse o f his family. A similar pattern. There's a lesson com ing u p ."
I looked forward to George's return. 4'
H e was a seventeen-year-old soldier the next time I regressed him,

fighting for his country, France, du rin g World W ar I. His left arm
was blown off in an explosion, and when he experienced this, he
clutched his arm a n d reported feeling pain. But the pain disap
peared, for he realized th a t he had died from his wounds. Again,
in the instant of th a t death, he floated above his body and was
able to see himself at an o ther time in the same life. H e was no
longer a soldier but an observer, detached from the events he was
describing. N o w he was a boy, no m ore th a n ten, living a h a rd
w orking but peaceful life on a farm , w ith tw o loving parents and
a younger sister w ho idolized him. T here were horses, cows, and
chickens on the farm . It was no t an eventful prior life, this life be
fore the war.
SAMF. S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S -------- 27
I w ondered if the pain in his left arm correlated w ith the h eart
attack he h a d experienced b o th earlier and very recently, but I
could n 't be sure. Sometimes it is simple to see a connection be
tween past and present lives, but in this case I d id n 't get a good
follow-up.
I d id n 't have a chance to th in k ab o u t it for long because sud
denly he became extremely agitated. H e had connected his
French life to another. (It is unusual w hen this happens; normally,
a regression leads to one lifetime, th o u g h the patient will often
cover different times an d events in th a t sam e life.) N o w he was a
warrior, a M o n g o l or Tatar, living in Russia or M ongolia— he
could n 't be sure. It was some nine hund red years ago. Fearsomely
strong, a m aster horsem an , he roam ed the steppes, killing his en
emies and am assing great wealth. T h e people he killed were often
innocent young men, m an y of them farm ers w ho had been c o n
scripted into the arm y against their will, like the French boy he
w ould eventually become. H e killed hundreds during his lifetime
a n d died an old m an, w ith o u t any of the regret he experienced
tw o h u n d red years later w hen he was the G erm a n innkeeper. H e
himself did n o t suffer. H e learned no lessons; those w ould come
in later lives. T h e life review he did as the innkeeper seemed to be
the first time he experienced contrition.
His M o n g o l experience showed me som ething I had recently
begun to figure out: L earning a b o u t the consequences of your ac
tions is n o t necessarily an im m ediate thing. H e would have to go
th ro u g h oth er violent lifetimes before he could feel w hat he h a d
caused. H o w m any lifetimes I co u ld n 't be sure; I could only c o u n t
the nu m b e r he reported.
Perhaps he had been killed in W orld W ar I as retribution for
his violent life as a warrior. Perhaps his innkeeper contrition was
n o t enough. Perhaps if he h ad changed prior to his acts of vio
lence, he w ould n ot have com e back to be killed in France. Per
haps he would have lived a long life on the farm. We discussed all
this when I bro u g h t him o u t of hypnosis. I think he was telling me
th a t if he had n ot been so violent in his past lives, he w o u ld n 't be
28 ------- - B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
so violent in his present life. H e had gone from remorseless killer

to abusive innkeeper to French soldier, killed before he had a
chance for a full life, to a successful businessm an who was still
raging an d had severe h eart problem s and high blood pressure.
T h a t day I w rote two notes: "T h e value of empathy. H e had
to feel w hat he had caused" and "T h e h eart is connecting these
lifetimes." W h a t would come next?
This tim e he was a thin, gay Japanese m an in his thirties, living in

the late nineteenth century. H e told me he h ad an affair of the
heart; he had fallen in love w ith a much younger man. There was
no way to get the young man's love, he felt, other than seducing
him, so th a t is w hat he set o u t to do. Alcohol was the means. H e
rook his beloved to a room and plied him with liquor. H a lf
against the young man's will, they becam e lovers th at night.
T h e young m an was asham ed, em barrassed, and hum iliated.
H om osexuality was a dishonorable, forbidden act in his culture;
the young m an was particularly mortified th a t he had allowed
himself to be taken. His reaction was rage. H e arrived at their
next rendezvous w ith a knife o r sword and plunged it into the
older man's chest. George was too thin and weak to resist. M y
patient died instantly.
In his life review, the themes of hatred, anger, impulsive rage,
and alcohol were all present. H e should have been m ore patient,
George realized. H e did n ot have to seduce the younger m an but
could have waited for a willing partner. H e was n o t judging his
hom osexuality; his sin was in interfering with som eone else's free
will by m an ip u latin g him.
A m ore subtle connection centered on weight. For all his
strength, George was obese, which added to his risk of h eart
attack. Sometimes people put on and m aintain weight as a p ro
tection. This is c o m m o n with w om en w ho have been abused or
raped; symbolically, they are trying to prevent th at violence from
recurring. And here was George, a rapist who was also a victim of
SA M E SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - —
29
violence. His obesity seemed to stem from th a t life and from a n

other, not this one. O nce G eorge un derstood this, dieting became
easier.
I wrote: "H is past life scar— maybe from the knife w o u n d —
cardiac susceptibility in the future?" I couldn't be sure, but fre
quently we come back w ith w ounds or weaknesses in the areas of
the body th a t were the site of m o rtal w ounds or dam age in a past
life. In George's case the connection seemed likely.
By this time George was able to go very deep. H e seemed
shaken by his experiences and inspired by them.
In 1981 when my patient C atherine was in a deep hypnotic
state an d rem em bering the significant lessons from her p ast lives,
she b ro u g h t back messages from "the M asters." N o w I asked
George when he stayed in a deeper state, "Is there anything more?
Are there any oth er messages for you, any other inform ation or
w isdom for you to take back?"
I to o k dow n all he said as th o u g h I were taking dictation:
" T h e earth life is a gift. It is a school to learn how love manifests
in the physical dim ensions where bodies and emotions exist. But
the school has m any playgrounds, and those need to be used. The
physical life is m ean t to be enjoyed. T his is one reason you have
been given the senses. Be good people. Have fun and enjoy your
selves. Enjoy the simple yet a b u n d a n t pleasures of life while not
h a rm in g o th e r people or other things, like nature."
W hen he left I wrote: "W hen G eorge awoke, he knew these
messages were very im p o rta n t to him because he didn't have any
fun in his present life, and these are simple things a b o u t why
we're here. T here are playgrounds here, too. It's not all w ork and
serious. 'Be good people' m e a n t to be com passionate and caring
at all levels."
W hen he came to his next session, George told me ab o u t a
miraculous dream. W hatever d oubts he had about regression
therapy had disappeared. H e was excited, vibrant. T he messages
he had learned took the form of a person, a spiritual being
bath ed in the blue light he had seen during his first regression.
!0 B R I A N I . WI - ' I SS, M . D .
["he person in the blue light told him he needed to love himself
m ore and th at E arth people needed to take care of one another,
not h a rm others. H e received instructions, he told me, though he
w asn't able to go into much detail. T hey were instructions m e a n t
for him , he knew, but concerned hum an ity at all levels. H e needed
to co m m u n icate better, to explain his thoughts and actions,
rath er th an just lashing out. Be m ore gentle, the spirit said. D o n 't
do h a rm to others.
George told me th at there was a hierarchy of spirits and th a t
the one w ho visited him in his d ream w asn't necessarily a t the
highest level. There are o ther places and other dimensions th a t
are even higher an d do n o t belong to the Earth. Still, we have to
learn the lessons o f the M asters because the im p o rta n t thing was
to progress, he said. While this was n o t as cogent or e ncom pass
ing as the messages th at C atherine had delivered, I was moved by
it. O nce again it was a case of patient leading doctor.
Different connections were evident in George's next regression.

This time his life was as a southern slave w om an in the early eigh
teenth century. George was m arried to a particularly brutal m an.
T he h u sb a n d in the black w om an's life was also George's father
in his present life. In the early life George's h usb and beat his wife
so savagely th a t he broke her legs, rendering her paralyzed.
In this life George's father was a source of great strength and
supp o rt, particularly in George's childhood, which was m arked
by arthritis in George's knees. But George's father was a frighten
ing a u th o rita rian figure, given to the sam e kind of rages th a t
George would later repeat, and the boy quickly learned th a t to
accomplish things away from his father's influence, he w ould
have to "stan d up for himself," an obvious correlation to his life
as a slave.
Independence and strength becam e the hallm arks of
George's pre-heart-attack life, and he carried them with him, pe r
haps to o single-mindedly, even after he got o u t of the hospital.
SA M h SOUL, M A N Y BODIKS il
T he lesson George needed to learn in this lifetime was balance; he

had to com bine authority with the ability to listen to others, to
take suggestions as well as give orders.
H e regressed briefly into an o th er life, of which he just saw
glimpses. H e was a Stone Age m an clothed in animal skins, with
hairy h ands an d feet. But he died very young— of starvation.
H ere was a n o th er explanation for his excessive weight in this life:
People close to starvation, such as those who died in the H o lo
caust, often become overweight when reincarnated, needing the
weight as reassurance they w ould never be hungry again.
I p u t his past lives in chronological order: Stone Age man,
M o ng o l warrior, innkeeper in the M iddle Ages, slave w om an
w ith paralyzed legs, m urdered Japanese gay m an, and French
m an dying for his country. Surely there were m any additional
lives as well, b ut he did n o t get to them in o ur sessions and p e r
haps never would. His blue spirit told him th at we see the past
lifetimes th a t are im p o rta n t to this one.
"L earning keeps h appening on the other side, too," George
told me, now an "expert," a n d I was pleased at his positiveness.
"You develop skills. You w ork on your talents. It doesn't stop."
T h ere were consistent them es in all the lives he rem em
bered— violence and anger, physical pain, abusiveness, constant
thre a t o f d eath— th a t were paralleled in his present life. W hen
G eorge p u t the past lives together, it becam e obvious to him that
his present-day lifestyle was deadly. H e was drinking to o much.
H is blood pressure needed to be controlled. H e could have a n
o th e r h e a rt attack. His rages p u t him in danger of a stroke.
All this to o k nearly tw o years of intense therapy (with peri
odic sessions thereafter), but as he joined these insights with
oth er therapeutic tools I gave him, such as relaxation CDs, I had
the pleasure of watching him begin to shift. H e was able to relax
m ore w ith o u t doing formal m editation (something I h a d recom
m ended b u t th a t he would n o t do). H e reported com m unicating
better w ith the people in his office; he said he was better able to
listen and to accept setbacks w ith o u t "going ballistic." Even
B R I A N I.. W E I S S , M . D .
when he did get angry, the periods were briefer and less violent.
H e was able to relax from time to time; he would p u t on one of
my C D s in his office during lunch h o u r and tell his secretary to
m ake sure he w asn't interrupted. H e started to play golf a n d go
fishing again, and attend Florida M arlins baseball games.
Physically, George was getting better, too. His blood pressure
w ent dow n, and his h eart function improved. H e began to exer
cise, he d ra n k less, and he ate healthier foods, all in concert with
his wife. Sometimes I would bring her into o u r sessions, where
she verified his progress w ith a gratitude th a t was as heartfelt as
his. It was the same w ith their children; he was becoming a father,
a friend, a n d a guide, n o t a dictator.
O n e change led to another, a n d soon there was a progression
of changes— w hat we call a synergistic loop. Success followed
success.
"I had glimpses of the other side," he told me. "I saw myself
in a future life as a beloved teacher to m any children. It was a very
happy life. I was very content. T he skills I learned were ones I
could bring back to my physical life here. A nd I saw a n o th e r
world, just glimpses of it. C rystalline structures and lights and
people— you know, like light beams."
I was astonished. As I say, this was before I was purposely t a k
ing people into the future. His vision, I th o u g h t then, m ight have
been a m etaphor, a symbol for w hat his present-day soul wished
for, o r it m ight have been nothing m ore than a dream influenced
by o u r w o rk on his past. Still, perhaps w hat he saw was true.
A t the end o f o u r last session I wrote: " H e has healed the spir
itual h e a rt as well as the physical h eart." His cardiologist, Bar
bara Tracy, confirmed the physical p a rt, and I knew th a t George
was hopeful now. Life was suddenly im p o rta n t to him. Spiritual
ity becam e p a r t of his psychological makeup. Family mattered.
Friends m attered. Coworkers mattered. Pleasure, too.
H e was prepared for the next stage in his evolution. W hen
George's body dies an d his soul is ready to return, I am convinced
his new life will be at a higher level; it will alm ost surely be gentler
43
th an the lives he has led. H a d he no t revisited and u n d e rsto o d the

lessons o f his p ast lives, it would have taken him longer to reach
the stage he is in now. H e m ight have had to spend several more
lives in an angry, violent state before he learned for himself the
tru th s his regressions had show n him. His therapy term inated,
an d I no longer see him as a patient. Should he care to, I'd wel
com e the chance to progress him, n o t for therapeutic purposes
b u t for us to see w hat his nonviolent next life— next lives— will be
like.
George's present life was changed by his renunciation of anger

an d violence, his p red o m in an t issues. O th e r patients' present and
p ast lives d em o n strate how change is possible in a dozen different
aspects of life and, by extrapolation, in hundreds more. It is rare
th a t a person will m aster m ore than one lesson in one lifetime,
th o u g h residual attention is often paid to others. For purposes of
the b o o k I have segregated the lessons into different discrete
areas, th o u g h they often overlap and evolution in one can lead to
evolution in others. T h e histories you are ab o u t to read are re
m arkable examples of people evolving toward new lives th a t take
them to higher planes and will eventually lead to the highest
plane of all.
CHAPTER 3
Victoria, Evelyn, and

Michelle: Health
s a physician and psychiatrist my mission is to heal physical
A ..an d em otional illness, som etim es separately but m ore

often sim ultaneously since the m ind affects the body's health,
and the body the mind's. I am aware of the concept of "spiritual
health," b ut to me the soul is always healthy. Indeed, the soul is
perfect. W hen people talk ab o u t healing the soul, I d o n 't know
w ha t they m ean. It is ou r distance from being soulful th a t makes
us feel the soul needs to be healed.
P oor health tends to m ake narcissists of us, and narcissism
makes us blind to com passion, empathy, anger m anagem ent, and
patience— all the elements that, when mastered, will lead us
higher up the evolutionary scale tow ard immortality. O ften, if we
are sick, we can think of noth in g but the sickness, and there is lit
tle chance for progress. T h u s in this chapter, I write ab o u t physi
cal illness an d diseases, and diseased states of m ind— phobias,
fears, depression, anxiety— a n d how to alleviate them. D o past
lives have an im pact on them? Absolutely. D o future lives also
have an effect? M o re and more— the evidence continues to accu
mulate— I believe they do.
I am ab o u t to introduce you to tw o remarkable people, Victo
!4 —
SAME SOUL, M AN Y BODIES - —
45
ria an d Evelyn, the first w ith a cancer th at m ade every day a time
in hell, the other with such profound anxiety that an outw ardly
successful life was actually m ade virtually unm anageable. I cured
Victoria by bringing her into her past lives; I've helped Evelyn by-
show ing her the future.
By this time I'm used to am azing regressions, astonishing revela

tions, but Victoria's case filled me w ith a sense of the miraculous
I had n ot often experienced since I first m et C atherine twenty-
four years ago.
Victoria is a physicist living in M a n h a tta n , a renowned m e m
ber of the Academy of Arts and Sciences. I met her w hen she
cam e up to me a t the start of a five-day w orkshop at the O m e ga
Institute, a healing an d learning center in R hinebeck, N e w York.
She told me th a t for the p ast sixteen years she had been experi
encing severe back pain caused by a cancer th a t m ultiple o p e ra
tions an d a series of chem otherapy an d radiation treatm ents had
been unable to cure. She h anded me a file on her condition several
inches thick. H e r pain was unrem itting; she described it as being
like the relentless b o m b a rd m e n t of an abscessed tooth. At night
she had to take high doses of a m orphine-like drug because the
pain was so severe, b ut d u rin g the day she endured the agony so
she could continue to w ork w ith a clear mind. T h o u g h n o t old—
she was in her mid-fifties— her hair h ad turned gray from the
pain. She d id n 't like the way it looked so she dyed it black.
Victoria had stopped taking her medicines a few days before
the w orkshop, she averred, so she could concentrate on my lec
tures. But now she asked, " H o w can I last five days w ith o u t m e d
icine? I'll have to go ho m e in an am bulance."
"D o your best," I said, "but I'll understand if you have to leave."
She stayed for all the sessions and at their end approached me
w ith her report. It was so im p o rta n t th a t I asked her to share it
w ith the group. D uring the week, she had experienced several re
gressions, all covering the same life, which took place near
B R I A N I.. W K I S S , M . D .
Jerusalem at the time of Jesus. She was a p o o r male peasant, a

powerful man with huge arm s and shoulders, but spiritually sen
sitive an d fond of birds and animals. H e lived in a w ooden house
by the side of the road with his wife and daughter, bothering no
one. Victoria recognized the daughter; she was her d a ughter now.
O ne day, the p easant found a m o u rn in g dove th a t had broken its
wing, an d knelt to care for it. A R om an soldier, m arching w ith an
elite corps of the palace guard, was annoyed by this m an block
ing his p a th , and kicked him savagely in the back, breaking sev
eral vertebrae. O thers of the corps set fire to his house, killing his
wife a n d child. T h e peasant's bitterness and hatred of the R o
m ans b u rn ed bright w ithin him. From th a t m o m e n t on, he
trusted no one. His back never healed.
In despair, broken physically an d emotionally, he moved close
to the m ain tem ple within the walls of Jerusalem where he lived
in a lean-to, existing o n the vegetables he was able to grow. H e
was unable to w ork, getting aro u n d only by leaning on a sturdy
walking stick and his one anim al, a donkey. People th o u g h t he
was senile, but he was merely old and broken. N ews of a rabbi
who was becom ing fam ous as a healer caught his attention, and
he traveled a great distance to hear a serm on by this m a n — it was
the Serm on on the M o u n t— expecting n o t to be healed or c o m
forted in any way, but curious all the same. T he rabbi's followers
were appalled at the sight of the peasan t and shooed him away.
H e hid behind a bush and was able to meet Yeshi's eyes.* "It was
like looking into bottomless pits filled w ith endless com passion,"
Victoria told me.
Yeshua said to the peasant, "D o n o t go far," and he obeyed
for the rest o f the day.
T h e enco u n ter b ro u g h t the peasan t no t healing but hope. H e
went back to his lean-to, inspired by the rabbi's sermon, which he
found "ringing and true."
l i11
"Victoria . (.'J h i m Yeshi, th e di m i n u ti v e o f Y es hua , t h e ra b b i' s A r a m a i c n a m e . Jesus, th e n a m e
w e k n o w Inn. by. is G r e e k . V ic tor ia h a d nev er h e a r d t h e n a m e Yeshi until she e n c o u n t e r e d it in
he r r egress ion.
S A M E SOUL, M ANY BODIES - — — 47
W hen the rabbi was a b o u t to return to Jerusalem, the peasant

becam e stricken w ith anxiety. H e knew Yeshua was in a d a n g e r
ous situation, having heard rum o rs of w hat the hated R om ans
had planned for him. H e tried to reach the rabbi to w arn him, but
he was too late. T he next time they com m unicated, Yeshua was
struggling under the weight of a huge w ooden beam on his way
to being crucified. H e was, the peasan t knew, extremely dehy
drated. Am azed at his own courage, he reached o u t to Yeshua
w ith a cloth soaked in w ater to wet his m outh, but Yeshua h a d al
ready passed by. T he p easan t felt terrible, but then Yeshua looked
back at him, again with infinite com passion in his eyes despite his
physical struggle, dehydration, and fatigue. T h o u g h Yeshua did
n o t speak, the p easant becam e aware of his words th a t etched
themselves telepathically in his mind: "It's all right. This was
m e a n t to be." Yeshua walked on. T he peasant followed him to
Calvary, to the crucifixion.
Victoria's next m em o ry was of herself as the p easant s ta n d
ing alone in the pou rin g rain, sobbing, minutes after Yeshua's
death on the cross. Yeshua was the only one he trusted since his
family was killed, and now the rabbi, too, was dead. Suddenly he
felt w h at Victoria described as "electricity" at the top of his head.
It shot dow n his spine, and he became aware th a t his back was
straight; he was no longer hunchbacked or crippled. H e was
strong again.
"L o o k ," Victoria cried in the present. "Look!"
She began to dance, swiveling her ow n hips, completely pain
free. There had been n o witnesses when the peasant stood
straight; two th o u san d years later, everyone at the conference
watched Victoria dance. Some were crying. M y ow n eyes filled
w ith tears. Sometimes when I go over my notes as I review a case,
I forget the sense of magic, the sense of mystery and awe th a t re
gressions evoke in me, but now it was palpable. This was no t h y p
notic suggestion. T h a t she had severe vertebral d a m age and
cartilage loss was d o c u m en ted by the M R Is and oth er tests re
p orted in the file she gave me.
is ......... --■ B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . I ) .
I rem em b er thinking, "H o w will this physicist, this w o m a n of

science, inco rp o rate w hat has just happened into her life?" It was
an intellectual question th a t m ight in time be answered. For the
m o m en t, as I watched her, all I could feel was her joy.
Som ething m ore w on d ro u s was yet to happen.

In O n ly Love Is Real, I w rote briefly ab o u t a past life m em ory
of my own. I was a young m an from a very wealthy family living
in A lexandria some two th o u san d years ago. I loved to travel and
ro a m ed th e deserts of n o rth e rn Egypt a n d southern Judea, often
investigating the caves where the Essenes and other spiritual
groups lived a t the time. In fact, my family contributed to their
well-being. D u rin g one journey I m et a m an som ew hat younger
than I w ho was exceptionally bright, and we cam ped a n d traveled
together for ab o u t a m onth. H e soaked up the teachings of these
spiritual com m unities much faster than I did. T h o u g h we becam e
good friends, eventually we w ent o u r separate ways, I to visit a
synagogue near the G reat Pyramids.
I did n o t relate the rest of this story at th a t time because it was
extremely personal, and I did n o t w ant people to think I w ro te
o u t of self-congratulation: "Dr. Weiss in the time of Jesus."
You'll see shortly why I do so now, for it is Victoria's story, n o t
mine.
I saw my co m panion again in Jerusalem , where I often trav
eled because my family conducted m uch of their business there. I
experienced myself in th at storied city as a scholar, n o t a busi
nessm an, th o u g h I was still wealthy. By this time I had affected an
im m aculately trim m ed salt-and-pepper beard and wore an ex
travagant robe, my own "coat of m any colors." I saw it then, as I
see it now, vividly.
At the time there was a traveling rabbi who was able to inspire
huge groups of people and thus was a threat to Pontius Pilate,
who placed him under a death sentence. I merged with the crowd
gathered to see this person on his way to execution, and when I
SAME SOUL, M AN Y B O D IE S - — — 4 9
looked into his eyes, I knew th a t I h ad found my friend, but it was

to o late to even atte m p t to save him. All I could do was watch
w hen he walked by, though I was later able to financially su p p o rt
som e o f his followers an d his family.
I was thinking of this as Victoria, very much in the present
a n d still exhilarated, was talking, so I only half-heard her when
she said, "I saw you there."
"W here?" I asked.
"In Jerusalem. W hen Jesus was on his way to the cross. You
were som eone powerful."
A thrill went up my spine like fire along a fuse. " H o w did you
k no w it was me?"
"By the expression in your eyes. It's the same expression I see
in th em now."
" W h a t was I wearing?"
"A robe. It was sand colored w ith vivid burgundy piping, very
elegant. You weren't one of the authorities, not one of Pilate's
m en, b ut I k new you h a d m oney because of the robe and because
your salt-and-pepper beard was so neatly trim m ed, unlike m ost
of the people's. O h , it was you, Brian! N o d o u b t a b o u t it." Both
of us felt goosebum ps, an d we looked at each other in wonder.
A psychiatrist m ight say, "Well, that's projection. You were
teaching a t O m ega, an au th o rity figure a n d a healer, a n d her pain
is gone, so naturally she'd believe she saw you in her regression."
True, b ut she described the robe, the beard, my appearance, the
scene, an d the situation exactly as I had seen it m any years ago in
my own regression. I h a d told only three people the full story of
th a t regression; in no way could she have know n w h at I looked
like or w h a t I was wearing.
There is som ething extremely rem arkable going on here; to
me it is inexplicable. It goes beyond health and healing into the
realm of the transcendental. "T his was m eant to be," Jesus the
healer told her. I sense these are im p o rta n t words, but I'm not
sure how to interpret them.
She called me the night after the conference ended, still
40 -- B R I A N I.. W F . I S S , V. I ».
shaken. Both of us, tw in scientists, realized th at her vision of

Jesus had been validated. For some reason th a t neither of us u n
derstood, we had been taken beyond ou r science to two points
where we had been destined to meet so th a t she might heal. It was
neither accident nor fantasy th a t she saw me in Jerusalem; it
m e a n t th a t two th o u san d years later I was to be the instrum ent of
her healing.
I asked her to keep in touch w ith me, and we speak regularly.
She still moves w ith o u t pain and can swivel her hips w ith the best
of th em . W hen she went back to her hairdresser, he marveled th a t
her hair h a d kept its dye so well— and then realized th a t it had
g ro w n in black, its natural color. H e r internist was, she said,
"flabbergasted" by her ability to walk and dance w ith o u t pain.
And in O cto b er her p h arm acist called her, concerned because she
had n o t renewed her prescription for pain medication. "I d o n 't
need it anym ore," she told him and, am azed at all th a t h a d h a p
pened, began to weep. "I'm fine."
Evelyn worked in mergers and acquisitions, m eaning th a t she

helped effectuate the merging of tw o com panies or the sale of
one to another. W hen the com panies were large, there were often
hun d red s of millions o f dollars involved, and the fees paid to the
c o m p a n y th a t Evelyn worked for routinely came to seven figures.
Evelyn was paid a substantial salary, which was often doubled or
tripled by her year-end bonus, a reward for bringing in new busi
ness.
She was in her mid-thirties, slim, physically attractive, with
black hair cropped short, alm ost a cliche of the young w o m a n ex
ecutive. H e r clothes reflected her success: a Chanel suit and h a n d
bag, a H erm es scarf, shoes by Gucci, a Rolex watch, and a
d ia m o n d necklace. Yet when I looked into her eyes— not easy
since they d arted away from me when she became conscious of
my gaze— I could see sadness. T he light was in the d iam onds at
her neck, n o t in her expression.
SAME SOUL, M ANY B O D I E S -— 41
"I need help," she said the m o m en t we shook hands. While

she sat, agitated hands tw isted and untw isted on her lap. I
quickly learned th a t she was given to simple declarative sentences
spoken in an unnaturally loud voice.
"I'm unhappy."
T here was silence. "G o on," I prom pted.
"I have of late lost all m y m irth."
T h e phrase seemed oddly formal. T h en I rem em bered it was
a qu o te from H am let. Patients sometimes use som eone else's
words so they d o n 't have to use their own. It's a defense, a way of
m asking feeling. I waited for her to continue. It to o k a while.
"I used to love my job. N o w I hate it. I used to love m y hus
band. N o w we're divorced. W hen I have to see him, I can barely
look at him ."
"W hen did the change come?" I asked.
"W ith the suicide bom bings."
T h e totally unexpected answer stopped me short. Sometimes
m o o d swings from happy to depressed are caused by the death of
a p aren t (Evelyn's father, I learned later, died when she was a
child), the loss o f a job (clearly n o t Evelyn's problem), or the ef
fects o f a long illness (Evelyn was in excellent health). Suicide
bom bings, unless one was directly attacked, were, to say the least,
an unusual impetus.
She began to weep. " T h e p o o r Jews. T he p o o r Jews." She
to o k a deep breath. T h e tears stopped. "T hose d a m n Arabs!"
T h e swear w ord seemed ou t of character, an indication of the
rage beneath it. "You're Jewish, then?" I asked.
"W ith all my h eart an d soul."
"Your parents, were they as passionate as you?"
"N o . They weren't very religious. N either am I. A nd they
d id n 't care ab o u t Israel. To me it's the one coun try th a t matters.
T he Arabs are out to destroy it."
"And your husband?"
" H e claims he's Jewish, but he doesn't care ab o u t Israel,
either. It's one of the reasons I hate him."
42 B R I A N L. W F I S S , M . D .
She stared at me antagonistically, perhaps because I remained

calm in the force of her passion. "Look. I've lost my appetite—
for food, for sex, for love, for business. I'm frustrated and unsatis
fied. I c an 't sleep. I know I need psychotherapy. You have a good
reputation. H elp me."
"So you can find out where the anger and anxiety come from?"
"I w an t my happiness back." She h ung her head. "I go to the
movies. I go shopping. I go to bed. And I think ab out how much I
hate the Arabs. I hate the U.N. I know they've done good, but
they're d o m in ate d by anti-Semites. Every vote goes against Israel.
I k n o w I'm overreacting. I k n o w I should care a b o u t som ething
else. But those d am n Arabs. H o w can they kill Jewish babies?
H o w can I care a b o u t anything else?"
We tried conventional psychotherapy, exploring her childhood in

this life, b ut the causes o f her anger and her anxiety did n o t seem
to reside there. She agreed to a regression.
"G o back to the time and place where your anger first
began," I instructed her when she was in a deep hypnotic state.
This was as far as I would lead her. She would pick wherever and
whenever th a t was.
"It's World W ar Two," she said in a deep masculine voice, sit
ting up straight with an expression of disbelief. "I'm a N azi offi
cer, a m em ber of the SS. I have a good job. It is to supervise the
loading o f Jews into the cattle cars th a t will take them to D achau.
There they will die. If any of them tries to escape, I shoot them . I
d o n 't like to d o that. It's not th a t I care th a t the vermin dies. It's
th a t I hate to lose a bullet. Bullets are expensive. We've been told
to save a m m u n itio n whenever possible." H e r cold-blooded
recitation was belied by the h o rro r in her tone and a slight tre m
bling th a t possessed her body. As a G erm an she might have felt
noth in g for the people she killed; as Evelyn, remembering, she
was in agony.
I've discovered that the surest way to be reincarnated into a
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES -—
43
p articu lar group of people, defined by religion, race, nationality,

o r culture, is to hate those people in a previous life, to be preju
diced or violent against th a t group. It did n o t surprise me th a t
Evelyn had been a Nazi. H e r intense pro-Israel stance in this life
was a co m pensation for her anti-Semitism in her G e rm a n one.
But she had overcompensated. T he hatred she h ad felt for the
Jews h a d been transform ed into an equal hatred for Arabs. N o
w on d er she felt anxious, frustrated, and depressed. She h a d n o t
moved very far o n her journey tow ard health.
Evelyn w ent to an o th er p a r t of her G erm an life. T he allied arm y

h ad entered Poland, an d she h ad been killed at the front during a
fierce battle. In her life review, after the death in th a t life, she felt
rem orse an d en o rm o u s guilt, but she still needed to return now to
confirm th a t she had learned her lesson and to m ake up to those
she h a d h u r t in her G e rm a n life.
We are all souls, all p a r t of the O ne, all the same, w hether we
are G e rm an s o r Jews, Christians or Arabs. But apparently Evelyn
h ad n o t learned this lesson. H e r hatred had n o t disappeared.
"I w an t to try an experim ent," I told her after I h a d b rought
her back to the present. "Are you gam e for it?" She eagerly agreed.
She m ade herself com fortable; her hands stopped their a n x
ious play. She looked at me expectantly.
"I believe th a t we are capable of influencing o u r future lives
by w h at we do in this one," I said. "R ight now you are influencing
your future life by your anger tow ard Arabs, just as you influ
enced the other one by your hatred of Jews. N o w I w a n t to
progress you to your next probable life, your life if you stay on
your present course and are Evelyn unchanged from the person
who cam e to me for help."
I p u t her in a deep hypnotic state and directed her to a future
life th a t would have connections to the G erm an soldier's life and
to her present life's anti-A rab bias. H e r eyes were closed, but it
was clear th at w hat they were seeing was vivid. "I'm a M uslim
44 - B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
girl. An Arab. A teenager. I'm in a h u t m ade of tin, like the

Bedouins use. I've lived there all m y life."
"W here is this hut?" I asked.
She frowned. "In the Palestinian territories or in Jo rdan. It's
n o t clear which. T he boundaries have changed."
"W hen did they change?"
"T h ey are always changing. But everything else is the same.
T h e w ar w ith the Jews goes on. Whenever there is a p eriod of
peace, the radicals destroy it. It m eans we are poor. We will al
ways be poor." H e r voice grew harsh. "It's the Jews' fault. They
are rich, b u t they d o n 't help us. We are their victims."
I asked her to go forw ard in her Arab life, but she died soon
after "o f an illness" and could a d d nothing further. Instead, she
had a brief glimpse of the life after th a t one. She was a C hristian
m a n living in East Africa, angry at the rapidly growing H in d u
p o p u la tio n in his p a rt of the world. (It's amazing, I thought. Prej
udice never ends.) In her life review she recognized that there were
and w o u ld always be people to hate, b u t now at last there was an
epiphany. "C o m p assio n and love are the antidotes to hatred and
rage," she said, her voice full of w onder. "Violence only p e rp e tu
ates the suffering."
W hen I bro u g h t her back to the present, we discussed w hat
she h a d learned. She knew she h ad to alter her assum ptions
a b o u t o th er peoples and cultures. She needed to replace hatred
w ith understanding. These concepts are easy to u nderstand in
the brain, but not easy to assimilate as a way of behavior.
"It to o k you tw o possible lifetimes to come to this recogni
tion," I pointed out. "But w hat if you could speed the change
now th a t you understand the concept in the present? W h a t w ould
your future lives look like then?"
In o u r next session I progressed Evelyn to a future life th a t c o n

nected the G e rm a n soldier's life a n d her present anger. "T his
time, though, you have to let go of all prejudice in your current
SAME SOUE, M A N Y BODIES -------------- 45
life. You see all souls an d people as equal, connected to each

oth e r by the spiritual energy of love."
A calm came over her. Apparently, her future life changed
completely. She did n o t find Arab or East African lifetimes but in
stead: "I'm the m an ag er of a hotel in Hawaii. It's a spa as well. A
beautiful hotel an d spa. T here are flowers everywhere. T h e guests
com e from all over the world. From different countries and cul
tures. They come to find recuperative energy. It's easy to find it
because the spa is so well m anaged and its setting is so splendid."
She smiled at the vision. "I'm blessed. I get to enjoy the hotel all
year ro u n d ."
It is, of course, a nice fantasy to imagine yourself as the m a n
ager of a great spa in a gorgeous setting surrounded by the smell
of hibiscus. W h a t Evelyn saw in this voyage into the future might
indeed have been fantasy, projection, or wishful thinking. W hen I
regress someone, it's som etim es difficult to separate actual m e m
ory from m etaphor, im agination, or symbol. In visualized past
lives, however, if a person is speaking a foreign language he or she
never learned in this one, th a t is a sign of authenticity. So is accu
rate historical detail. If the m em ory brings up intense em otion,
th a t is also a sign. But while intense em otion often accom panies
progressions, validation is m uch more difficult. I operate on the
assu m p tio n th a t even th o u g h a progression can't be checked out,
it is still a powerful healing device. Yes, m etap h o r and fantasy are
possible, but healing is the im p o rta n t part. In regression a n d p ro
gression, sym ptom s disappear, illnesses get better, and anxiety,
depression, an d fear are relieved.
N o one has figured o u t a way to confirm th at the im agined fu
ture is really going to happen. T hose few who have joined me in
this field are inevitably faced w ith th a t ambiguity. If a patient is
progressed to a future tim e in his present life, you can confirm it
when the vision comes true. But even then it is possible for a p a
tient who has seen her future to veer her life in th at direction. Just
because a vision is a fantasy doesn't m ean you can't make it come
true.
46 B R I A N I.. W H I S S , M . D .
People sit in front of me w ith their eyes closed. W hatever

com es into their minds, whether m etaphor, imagination, symbol,
fantasy, o r actual memory, is all grist for the healing mill. This is
the fo u n d atio n o f psychoanalysis, a n d it is the foundation of the
w ork I do, though the scope of my w ork is broader in th a t it takes
in the distan t p ast and the future.
From my healer's perspective, it does not m atter whether
Evelyn's visions o f w hat was p ast an d w hat is to come are real. It
is probable th a t her G erm an life was real, for it was accom panied
by intense em otion. And I k n o w th a t her visions of her future
lives influenced her in a powerful way because they said to her: If
you d o n 't change, you're just going to be repeating this d estruc
tive cycle of aggressor and victim, b u t if you do change, you can
break the cycle. H er different visions of the future taught her th a t
she h a d the free will to shape the future and th a t the time to sta rt
exercising th a t free will was now.
Evelyn decided n o t to wait until her next life to bring healing
recuperation to herself and others. A few m onths after o u r final
session, she left her firm and opened a bed-and-breakfast in Ver
m ont. She regularly practices yoga and meditation. O utw ardly
and inwardly— profoundly— she has let go of her anger a n d her
prejudices. H e r progressions enabled her to attain the happiness
she cam e to me to find. And in her I found a model for the power
of progression an d further confidence to use it as a therapeutic
tool.
Victoria an d Evelyn probably could n o t have taken their journeys

w ith o u t a therapist to guide them. While it is difficult to practice
regression a n d progression alone, in my w orkshops I teach heal
ing exercises th at can be used at ho m e even when there is no th e r
apist aro u n d . I have also m ade some regression CDs th a t can be
used to aid the process. They can be used to alleviate physical or
em otional problems. For any of them to be effective, you m ust be
in a state of deep relaxation.
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - — —
47
M any therapists tell you in their books how to relax; w h a t

ever works for you is fine. In short form, my m ethod is this: Find
a place where you can be alone and will not be interrupted— your
bedroom or den, say. Close your eyes. Focus first on your breath,
imagining th at with each exhalation you are ridding yourself of
all the tensions an d stresses in your body and th at each time you
inhale you are breathing in beautiful energy. T hen concentrate on
the different areas of your body. Relax the muscles of your face,
your jaw, vovir neck, an d shoulders. G o on to your back, a b
do m en , stom ach, and legs. Your breathing is regular, relaxed; in
hale energy, exhale tension. N ext, after relaxing all your muscles,
visualize a beautiful light above your head, a healing light th a t is
flowing into your body from the top of your head a n d dow n to
the tips of your toes, growing w arm er and m ore healing as it de
scends. W hen I am leading the exercise, I count backw ards at this
poin t from ten to one, b ut you d o n 't have to d o th a t if you are
alone.
Dialogue with Illness"

Pick one— an d only one— sym ptom , mental or physical,,that you
would like to u n d erstan d and, by understanding, heal. It could be
the arthritis in your joints, your fear of heights, or your shyness
when you meet a stranger. N otice the first thoughts o r feelings or
impressions th at come into your mind. D o this spontaneously,
w ith o u t editing; these should be your first thoughts, no m atter
how silly or trivial they m ight seem. G et in touch w ith th a t p a rt
of your body o r m ind th a t is troubling you. Try to m ake the
sy m p to m worse at first, experiencing it as fully as you can, and
observe how you did th at. T hen, switch places w ith the s y m p
tom ; you are the sym p to m , the sym ptom is you. This is so you
can be m ost fully aware of the sym ptom . It knows where it is lo-
I have a d a p t e d thi s exercise fr o m s im il a r o n e s t a u g h t by Eli z a be th S t r a t u m a n d o t h e r s t h a t are

us e d hv ges tal t thera pist s.
48 B R I A N L. W I U S S , M . D .
cated an d how it affects the body or mind. N ext, have the you
th a t is outside the sym p tom ask the sym ptom a series of ques
tions.
♦ H o w have you affected my life?

♦ W h a t are you going to d o w ith my body/m ind now
th a t you're in it?
♦ H o w have you affected my relationships?
♦ D o you help convey som ething I can't convey w ith o u t
you, some message or some information?
♦ D o you protect me from anyone or anything?
This last is the key question, for people often use illnesses to avoid
confro n tin g the issues th a t lie behind them — a form of denial.
Let's say, for example, th a t you are experiencing sharp pains in
your neck. T h e exercise will let you locate exactly w ho o r w hat
th a t pain in the neck is— your boss, your mother-in-law, a way of
holding your head so you d o n 't have to look som ebody directly in
the eye.
In w orkshops I ask the questions, so the illness is free to c o n
centrate on its host. If you are doing the exercise at hom e, prere
cord the questions, leaving intervals on the tape long enough for
mindful, considered answers. O r you can w ork with a friend.
T h is exercise, like the others, is n o t a panacea; a cancer w o n 't
disappear, no r will a mother-in-law. But often the exercise will al
leviate sym ptom s, and occasionally a "miracle" occurs a n d a cure
is effected. We do not k n o w the extent of the m ind-body connec
tion— in multiple personalities a rash or fever will disappear
w hen one o f the multiples switches to another, or one may be an
alcoholic and a n o th er intolerant to alcohol— but we know it ex
ists, an d these exercises are a m eans of maxim izing the dual
force.
S A M F S O U L , M A N Y B O D I F S ------- --------49
Healing Visualization
Here, too, I've adapted the exercise, this time from a n u m b e r of
sources. Again, in w orkshops I lead the participants, but it can be
done at hom e with the use of a recorder or with a friend or loved
one at your side. After a few repetitions you will rem em ber the
steps; it is a simple yet often extremely powerful exercise.
With your eyes closed and in a relaxed state, go to an ancient
island of healing. T he island is beautiful, and the w eather itself is
a balm . There is no m ore relaxing place in the world. Em bedded
in the floor of the ocean, a sh o rt way out from the beach, are
som e very large an d powerful crystals th a t im part a strong heal
ing energy to the water. Step into the water, going only as far as is
com fortable; the sea is w a rm and calm. You'll feel a tingling on
your skin. This is the supercharged energy of the crystals a b
sorbed by you through the w ater th at touches your body. Direct
the energy to the p a rt o f your body th at needs healing. It need not
be one place; perhaps your entire being is crying o u t for health.
Stay in the w ater for some time, feeling relaxed an d letting the en
ergy w ork on you in its benevolent way.
N o w visualize several tam e and loving dolphins svyimming
up to you, attracted by your calmness and the beauty inside you.
D olphins are master diagnosticians and healers; they a d d their
energy to the energy of the crystals. By this time you can swim as
well as the dolphins because the w ater is so supercharged with
energy. Together you play in the water, touching each other, div
ing, and com ing up to breathe the beneficent air. You are so en
tranced by your new found friends th a t you forget the original
p u rp o se o f the swim, which is to heal, but all the while your body
is absorbing the healing energy from the crystals and the d o l
phins.
W hen you are ready, leave the w ater and go back to the beach.
You are com forted by the know ledge th at you can return as many
times as you wish. T h e sand feels good under your feet. So special
«) - - B R I A N I.. W E I S S , M . D .
is the water th at im mediately you are dry. Feeling content, happy,

and well, you sit quietly for a time experiencing the w a rm th of
the sun an d the caress of the breezes. T h en you allow yourself to
emerge from the visualization, from this soft dream , know ing
th a t you can always go back and th a t the healing will continue
even after you are awake.
Regression Visualization
In a relaxed state and w ith your eyes closed, imagine a spiritual
being, som eone who is very wise. T h e spirit can be a relative or a
beloved friend who has passed over, o r it can be a stranger w hom
you nevertheless trust an d love as soon as there is contact between
you. T h e essential factor is th a t this person loves you u n c o n d i
tionally. You feel totally safe.
Follow your spirit guide to a beautiful ancient temple o f heal
ing a n d memories. It sits high on a hill surrounded by white
clouds. To reach the entrance you climb up beautiful m arble
steps. W hen you reach the top, the great doors swing open, and
you follow the spirit inside where there are fountains, m arble
benches, a n d walls inlaid w ith scenes of nature a t its m ost a b u n
dant. T here are others in the room , voyagers like yourself with
their ow n spirit guides; all are relaxed, enchanted.
T h e spirit leads you to a private ro o m , as e la b o ra te in d e
sign as th e first b u t bare o f fu rn itu re save for a couch set d i
rectly in th e cen ter of th e floor. You lie on it, realizing you have
never been so co m fo rtab le. Above the couch are su sp e n d e d
crystals o f different sizes, shapes, a n d colors. U n d e r y o u r d i
rectio n th e sp iritu al being arra n g e s the crystals in such a way
th a t light o f the perfect co lo r— green, yellow, blue, a n d g old—
goes like a laser beam to t h a t p a r t of the body o r the e m o
tio n a l body, the m ind, m o st in need of healing. T h e light
changes; th e crystals have b ro k e n it into the colors of the r a in
bow, all o f which you a b so rb as p a r t of your healing. T h e
SAME SOUL, M A N Y B O D I E S -—
61
spirit directs you to lo o k at one wall of the ro o m , an d to your

a m a z e m e n t it is blank like a movie screen.
In group sessions I co u n t slowly backw ard from ten to one
and tell the attendees th a t images of their past lives will appear.
In your hom e you will have to pause before the images take shape.
You d o n 't have to go into th a t past life— there may be m ore than
one— but simply imagine it. T he life may appear as a series of
photo g rap h s, or it may com e like a movie. M aybe one scene will
keep repeating. It d o esn 't m atter; whatever you see is fine. And all
the while you are looking at the screen, your body is absorbing
the healing energy beam ed from the crystals. T he healing is ta k
ing place n o t only in this life but in the past where the w ound may
have originated. If you see a direct connection between past life
roots and present-day sym ptom s, the healing becomes m ore p ro
nounced. But even if you d o n 't draw a connection, as often h a p
pens, the healing remains powerful. You, the spirit, the temple,
the crystals, and the light are w orking in concert to heal; all are
powerful.
Healing Duets: Psychometry

In w orkshops and sem inars I have the people in the audience
break up into groups of two, preferably strangers to each other.
Each is asked to pick an object in his or her possession to h a n d to
the partner, som ething small like a bunch of keys, a bracelet,
glasses, a necklace, o r a ring. T h e partn ers exchange objects, and
then I have them go into the relaxed state co m m o n to all the exer
cises. "You will receive an impression ab o u t the person w hose o b
ject you hold," I tell them . "It may strike you as strange. It may
seem as if the impression has nothing to do w ith the m an or
w o m a n you're facing. But no m atter how silly or unusual or
weird the tho u g h t, rem em ber it and then share it w ith your p a r t
ner. After all, w hat seems bizarre to you might have deep signifi
cance for him or her."
B R I A N I . Wll ISS, M . D.
T his is far more than a parlor trick, though it can be great

fun. T here is a diagnostic co m ponent. A bout one-third of the a u
dience at a w orkshop I gave in M exico City picked up a physical
sy m p to m of their partner, and participants may be able to dis
cover often forgotten but significant childhood episodes in their
p artn e rs' lives. For example, at a class I taught at Florida Inte rn a
tional University in M iam i, one young man, who had not met his
female p a rtn e r until th at m om ent, completely and accurately de
scribed her tenth birthday party, the one where she was hum ili
ated by her older sister. T here was another young m an w ho had
been shot in the left forearm while trying to flee a thug attem pting
to rob him. H e wore a long-sleeved shirt, buttoned at the wrist, so
his partner, a w o m an , c o u ldn't have seen the scar. Yet when she
held his car keys, she felt a sharp pain in her own left forearm.
Some described others' p ast lives; m any described the house
where the p a rtn e r grew up as a child.
At the end of my M exican w orkshop I had five people take
the m icrophone to share w ith the group w hat they had u n d e r
gone. Four of them had m ediumistic experiences! They received
messages from their p a rtn ers' deceased loved ones, all of them
recognized by their partners w h o m they had never m et until th a t
m om en t. Some were able to describe w hat the dead person
looked like. O ne told of a six-year-old girl w hom he saw walking
backw ard, which to him m ean t th a t the girl had died. T h e girl
was saying, "I'm fine. I'm okay. You d o n 't have to grieve so much.
I love you." His partner, a w o m an , started to weep. She had lost
her six-year-old daughter a few m onths before.
T his exercise can be done at hom e, though it is m ost effective
if you do it with som eone you know casually o r have only re
cently met. While you are healing your partn er by delivering a
message o r picking up a physical or emotional sym ptom — a n x i
ety, depression, sadness— an extraordinary connection quickly
develops, an d there is a feedback effect th at is as powerful for you
as it is for your partner.
SAMF. S O l ' L , M A N ' V B O D I E S
Long-Distance Healing
In a relaxed state, w ith your eyes closed, visualize loved ones who
may he physically sick or em otionally troubled. By sending them
healing light, healing energy, your prayers (you d o n 't have to be
lieve in any formal religion), and your love, you can actually af
fect their recovery— as far o u t as this sounds. Scientific evidence
backs my statement. Dr. L arry Dossey's book, Reinventing M e d
icine, points to a n u m b er of studies which show th a t a m o n g h eart
patients, those who were prayed for from afar had better clinical
outcom es than those receiving medical therapy alone. A double-
blind study of advanced AIDS patients found th at even when they
did n ot know they were being prayed for, they experienced fewer
and less severe AIDS-related illnesses.
My own technique is to take one person in a w orkshop of,
say, eighty people and p u t him or her in the middle of a circle
formed by the rest of the attendees. I ask them to project healing
energy into that person, silently but with all their spiritual force.
I have said th at the healing exercises are m ost effective when di
rected toward one specific ailment. With Victoria it was the c an
cer in her back. W ith Evelyn it was the anxiety th a t consum ed her
night and day. M o s t people have a susceptible organ or p a rt of
their body th a t seems to be the first affected und e r conditions of
stress or incipient disease. It may be the th roat and respiratory
system, the back, the skin, the heart, and so on.
In Michelle, a n o th e r remarkable w om an, the area was the
knees. She rem em bered her left knee being lacerated by a sub
merged rock when as a child she went into the w ater at the beach
near her home. W hen she was under stress as an adult, she often
felt m igratory stabbing pains in both knees but m ore so on the
left. Anxiety, she told me, left her "w eak-kneed." She occasion
ally experienced swelling and edema, particularly after an ath-
- B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
Ictic injury in college th at required m inor surgery on her left

knee; arthroscopic surgery was needed later. By the time I met
her, C A T scans and X-rays showed cartilage loss. She could n o t
fully extend her left leg because of the dam age, and by now she
walked w ith a slight limp. She was aware, though, th a t the d a m
age was em otional as well as physical, which is why she cam e to
see me.
H e r first regression b rought her back briefly to the rural M id
west o f nineteenth-century America. H er nam e was E m m a , and
in m iddle age she had been ru n dow n by a horse-drawn wagon.
T he accident shattered her left knee and shin and also badly d a m
aged her right knee. A subsequent infection left her perm anently
disabled. In a glimpse of a n o th er life, Michelle saw herself in m e
dieval Ja p a n as a male soldier whose left knee was pierced by an
arrow.
B oth regressions ex p lained h er present knee tro u b le s b u t
did n o t get to the origin of the k a rm ic lesson, so we k ept going
a n d so o n reached N o r t h A frica in p re-R o m an times. M ichelle
was once ag ain a m a n , this tim e a w arden a t a p a rtic u la rly
b ru ta l p riso n w ho to o k special delight in destroying the legs of
th e p riso n ers so they co uld n o t escape. Som etim es he w o u ld
h a m s tr in g a p riso n er w ith a sw ord or knife; som etim es he
sm a sh e d th e ir knees w ith a h a m m e r or a rock. H e bro k e fe
m u rs, drove spikes th ro u g h knees, an d severed Achilles' te n
dons. M a n y of his captives died from the infections o f their
w o u n d s, b u t he reveled in th eir misery. H is superiors t o o k a vi
c a rio u s d elight in d is p a tch in g p riso n ers to his care, a n d he was
well rew ard ed for his violence, living in considerable lu x u ry
a m id th e sq u a lo r of the place.
Michelle was disturbed by this regression, and it to o k a n
other session before she achieved complete integration a n d u n
derstanding. Eventually she realized th at we have all passed
thro u g h barbaric lives an d th a t she, like the rest of us, should feel
no sham e or guilt for w hat we did millennia in the past. O u r jo u r
ney is upward. We have all evolved through lifetimes of violence
and cruelty. T he O ld T estam ent says th at the sins of the father are
visited on the children into the third and fourth generation, that
we are being affected negatively by w hat ou r fathers did before
us. But we are our fathers, just as we will be our children. T he sins
of ou r ow n pasts will h a u n t o u r presents until we can understand
them an d earn absolution. T he sins of this lifetime will darken
ou r futures, b ut as we acted wisely in the past, so ou r presents are
m ade lighter. If we act h um anely now, we will bring o u r future
selves closer to the One.
Michelle was able to see why her knees and legs were so
painful in her present life. She h ad paid a heavy price for her past
behaviors, but now, she recognized, she could be freed. D uring a
deep trance state she w ent back again to th at N o r th African life,
but this time instead o f inflicting pain, she was the one who felt it,
a n d she asked for forgiveness and grace. She could no t change the
facts an d details of th a t life, but she could alter her reactions to
those events on a spiritual level. This process of going back is
called refraining. It d o esn 't change the facts, but it changes how
you react to the facts. Michelle sent thoughts of light and healing
to the prisoners or, rather, to their higher selves, their souls. And
she was able to forgive herself. "I know how to break the cycle,"
she said through tears of gratitude. "T h ro u g h love a n d c o m p a s
sion."
She began to get better. T h e inflam m ation in her knees re
ceded. She developed full range of m otion in her legs, a n d ra d i
ographic exam ination showed b oth knees completely healed.
H e r stress-related w eak-kneed state was erased. She was free to
explore an d u n d erstan d oth er m ore sophisticated lessons of
com passion an d empathy. She supported organizations th a t a d
vocate for the abolition o f land mines (which often cause crip
pling leg injuries) and those th a t fight against cruelty to animals.
She has received grace.
Michelle did not w an t to go into the future, but I know w hat
it will be. In this life she will continue her h u m a n ita ria n work,
and with each act she will progress toward a better state in her
B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
next lifetime and the lifetimes to come. In those lives she will be
free of the physical problem s with her legs, for she has expiated
her N o r t h African sins. I d o n 't know w hat her professions will be
or w h o m she will meet a n d love, but she will perform a n d love
with charity and compassion.
c: H A P T H R 4
Samantha and Max:

Empathy
A
few days before I b eg an this chapter, m y wife C arole's
uncle lay dy in g o f can c e r in a M ia m i hosp ital. She and
he were very close, a n d this w as an ordeal for her. I was close
to h im , too, th o u g h n o t nearly to the degree C a ro le was, so
w hen I visited his h o s p ita l ro o m , my focus was less on him
th a n o n her a n d o n his children gath ered at his bedside. (His
wife h a d passed away m a n y years earlier.) I c o u ld feel their
sadness, th eir p ain , a n d th eir grief. T his was e m p a th y on my
p a r t , a n em o tio n th a t grow s as we get older, for th e degree to
w hich we em p ath iz e is influenced by u n d erg o in g sim ilar s itu a
tio ns in o u r o w n lives. I h a d lost b o th a child a n d my fa ther
a n d th u s k n ew the p a in o f c o n fro n tin g the d e a th of a loved
one. It was n o t difficult for me to experience the e m o tio n s of
the people in th a t ro o m ; I k n o w w h a t grief feels like, a n d I felt
a stro n g k inship w ith th e m all even th o u g h I h a d m e t the chil
d ren only a few tim es over the years. I was able to reach o u t to
th e m , a n d they could a ccep t my w ords of c o m fo rt, k n o w in g
they were genuine. T h e y e m p a th iz e d w ith me as well.
A round the same tim e an earthquake in Iran killed some
forty th o u san d people an d left hundreds of thousa n d s wounded,
IS B R I A N L. \ \ ' 1;. I S S , M . D .
torn from their families, and w ith o u t homes. There were horrific
scenes on television of people digging out the w ounded and the
dead. I watched in horror. A different kind of em pathy was at
work here, more global an d probably not as painful as the e m o
tions I felt in that hospital room . If there had been no pictures of
the earthquake's afterm ath, I m ight have felt very little; it was the
individuality of tragedy, along with the immediacy of the pic
tures, th a t m ade it so painful.
M y em pathy went as m uch to the rescuers as to the victims,
and I found myself thinking th a t this world is such a difficult
place. Here we have illness, disease, earthquakes, typhoons,
floods, all the calamities o f nature, and yet we add war, violence,
and murder. Like m any nations the United States immediately
pledged relief aid in the form of food, medicine, and manpower.
Yet, we were assured, Iran was still p a rt of the axis of evil, and it
was right to hate their leaders. If it could be claimed they were a
th rea t to us, we would go to war.
M adness!
E m p ath y is the ability to p u t yourself in som eone else's place— to

feel their feelings, to be in their situation, to see th ro u g h their
eyes. If we are capable of empathy, we can bond w ith those who
are suffering, rejoice in an other's love, feel pleasure a t som eone
else's triu m p h , and u n d erstan d a friend's anger and a stranger's
grief. It is a trait that, when m astered and correctly used, can help
bring us fu rth er toward the future. T hose lacking e m p a th y c a n
n o t spiritually evolve.
T h e core principle underlying em pathy is th at we are all c o n
nected. I began to u n d erstan d it during the height of the Cold
War when I saw a movie a b o u t a Russian soldier. I knew I was
supposed to hate him, but as he w ent through his daily ritual—
shaving, having breakfast, going into the field for training— I re
m em b e r thinking, "T h is soldier is only a few years older than I.
H e may have a wife and children w ho love him. Perhaps he is
S A M E S O U I , M A N Y B O D I E S .................59
being forced to fight for political ideas th a t are those of his lead
ers but with which he disagrees. I've been told he's my enemy, but
if I looked into his eyes, w o u ld n 't I see myself? A ren't I being told
to hate myself?"
T h a t Russian soldier of yesterday and the A rab soldier of
today are the same as you are, for they both have souls and you
have a soul, and all souls are one. In ou r p ast lifetimes we have
changed races, sexes, econom ic circumstances, living conditions,
and religions. We will change them in the future as well. So if we
hate or if we fight o r if we kill, we are hating and fighting and
killing ourselves.
Em pathy teaches this lesson; it is one of the feelings we are
p u t o n E arth to learn, a key aspect of ou r p reparation for im m o r
tality. It is a difficult lesson in th a t we m ust experience it n o t only
in ou r m ind but in o u r physical bodies, and in the m ind a n d body
we have pain, dark em otions, difficult relationships, enemies,
loss, and grief. We th u s tend to forget others and concentrate on
ourselves. But we also have love, beauty, music, art, dance, n a
ture, and air, and we long to share them. We c a n n o t transform
negativity into the positive w ith o u t empathy, and we c a n n o t truly
understa n d em pathy w ith o u t experiencing it in ou r present life,
in o u r past, an d in o u r future.
Sam an th a experienced it. It literally changed her forever.
She was a frail girl, weighing less than a h u ndred pounds, and she
sat in my office on a February m orn in g w ith her shoulders
hunched and her h an d s clasped firmly on her stom ach, as though
to hold in pain. H e r clothes were simple: jeans, sweater, sneakers
with ankle socks, an d n o jewelry, n o t even a watch. She m ight just
be entering high school, I th ought, though I knew from my intro
d ucto ry questions, to which she gave subdued, barely audible a n
swers, th a t she was in fact nineteen and a college freshman. H e r
parents had sent her to me because she was suffering from severe
anxiety and low-grade depression.
6(1 B R I A N 1.. W t l S S , M . D .
"I c an 't sleep," she said in a voice so soft I had to strain to hear
it. Indeed, her eyes were w atery and bloodshot.
"D o you know why?" I asked.
"I'm worried I'm going to fail my courses."
"All o f them?"
"N o. Just m ath and chemistry."
"W hy n o t take different subjects?" I winced. It was a stupid
question. T hose were the courses she had selected. And, indeed,
she bristled.
"T h ey 're prerequisites."
"For med school?" I o u g h t to know. They had been the focus
of my college years.
"Yes. And I creamed the m ath SAT."
"So you w an t to be a doctor?" I sounded banal, I knew, but I
was searching for a po in t of entry, something th a t w ould rouse
her from the defeated young w o m an sitting opposite me.
At last she raised her head an d met my eyes. " M o re than a n y
thing. It's w hat I'm going to be."
"B ut you can't get into m ed school unless you pass m a th and
chemistry."
She nodded. H er eyes kept contact. I had identified her p ro b
lem, an d this very fact had given her a little hope. "Tell me. Did
you have trouble with your m ath and science courses in high
school?"
"A little." She paused. " N o , a lot, though you w o u ld n 't know
it from the SATs."
I w ondered if she'd experienced too much parental pressure.
"D o your m om and dad w an t you to be a doctor?"
"T h ey w ant whatever I w ant. They've been w o n derful. Sup
portive, kind, loving— I c o u ld n 't have better parents. They got
me a tu to r to help me w ith my studies. But she d oesn't do much
good. I just look at the num bers and the formulas, and I go
blank."
She spoke with such fervor, such passion, th a t for the first
time I saw w hat an extrao rdinary young w om an Sam antha was.
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - — 61
The pressure did not seem to be parental but internal. I was sure
th a t her sense of defeat was n o t so ingrained th a t it could n 't be
overcome.
"And now you feel you're letting them dow n."
"Yes, and it m akes me miserable. I'm letting my brother
dow n, too. Sean. He's eleven and has a weak heart, a n d he has to
be careful. But it's really m y s e lf I'm letting dow n m ost of all. Dr.
Weiss, I go into a classroom to take a test, even the simplest quiz,
and before I sit dow n, I s ta rt trembling and sweating, and I begin
to panic and w an t to ru n away. Once, I actually did. Just ran out
of th a t room and back to my d o rm and lay on the bed and
sobbed."
"W h at happened?"
" O h , I told them I was sick, and they let me take the quiz
again. They'll let me take my m idterm s again, too— the ones I
failed last m o n th , the ones I'll fail again. Fail and fail and fail and
fail."
She broke dow n, weeping w ith an anguish b o rn of m onths of
despair. I let her cry— it would have been futile to try to stop
her— but at last the tears ceased, and, to my am azem ent, she
m anaged a wan and endearing smile. "I'm a mess," she said. "M y
whole life's dow n the tubes. Fix me."
I knew we would have to find the source of her block. Perhaps
it lay in a different life. I th o u g h t of regressing her to find out, but
I w anted to learn m ore before we began.
"W h a t ab o u t your grades in other courses?"
"Straight A's. I'm n o t du m b ."
N o, I d idn't th in k so. " T h e n let's say, just hypothetically, you
cou ld n 't pass m ath an d chemistry and had to choose a different
future. Would th a t be so terrible?"
"It would be impossible," she said calmly.
" N o t really You're still young. There are a million paths open
to you."
"D o n 't you understan d?" she asked. "T here's only the one."
I d idn't understand. "Why?"
62 B R I A N ' L. W I . I S S , M . I ) .
"Because I've seen my future. I've seen it in my dream s."

Electricity. "You've seen it?"
If she shared my excitement, she did n o t show it. "Yes.
But I d o n 't get how it will h appen— not if I can't pass my exams."
"H o w do you know the dream is really ab o u t your future,
th at w h a t you see will happen?"
"Because when I've d ream t ab o u t the future before, it comes
true." Sadness crept back into her voice. "O nly this time it can't
happen. Som ething is stopping it."
She was going too fast. "B acktrack a second," I said. "Give
me an example of a dream th a t came true."
"I had a dream th a t my friend D iana would get h u rt in a car
crash. Two weeks later she did, just like I saw it. A nother car hit
hers when she stopped at an intersection." She shuddered.
"Creepy."
She described oth er precognitive dreams— a m o u n ta in clim b
ing accident and the early arrival hom e of her father from a busi
ness trip.
M a n y people have precognitive dreams, visions of events
ab o u t to happen; I had encountered them several times before.
But w ith Sam antha, m an y of her future dream s were m ore tex
tured, m ore vivid, an d m ore elaborate. She was seeing n o t an in
cident but a detailed later life.
"I'm in med school. It's a great university, so there are scores
of o th er students. It's g rad u atio n day. June. We're seated on a
stage, a n d the dean is han d in g o u t diplomas. There's a huge a u d i
ence, the w om en in frilly, flowery dresses, so maybe the university
is in the South. Flags are waving in the h o t breeze. M y parents are
in the first row, and I can see them beam ing at me, p ro u d of me as
I am of myself. T h e dean calls my name. I have graduated, he a n
nounces, w ith the highest honors. I walk to the lectern where he is
standing, an d he h ands me my diplom a, which is rolled up and
tied w ith a ribbon. T he audience begins to cheer, n o t only my
parents but all of them. T h e oth er students are cheering, too, and
I'm so happy I could burst. I go back to my seat, untie the ribbon,
SAMK SOUL, M A N Y BODIES ------ 6.i
and open the diplom a. It is the m ost beautiful thing I've ever seen.
My nam e is printed in red like a neon sign and— "
She started to cry, tears as large as drops from a faucet. "It's
n o t going to happen. M aybe I should take a leave of absence,
leave school before I fail a course so it w o n 't be on my record.
M aybe I should m arry a doctor."
"M aybe you w o n 't have to. M aybe we can find o u t where that
block is com ing from ." M y w ords did little to encourage her. H er
head was bowed once m ore, and her hands clasped at her sto m
ach. "Any other dreams?" I asked.
"It's a few years later. I'm a d octor now, walking d o w n a hos
pital corridor, going from one patient's ro o m to another. T h e p a
tients are children— I'm a pediatrician! It's w hat I always wanted
to be. I love kids, an d it's obvious they like me, for every one of
them , even the littlest a n d sickest, w ith tubes com ing from their
noses an d arms, are glad to see me. I'm thrilled th a t I have the ex
pertise to help them . O n e little boy takes my h and. I sit by his
bedside until he falls asleep."
T h e dream s could be anything: fantasies, precognitive
dreams, dream s of the future, or m etaphors having noth in g to do
w ith medicine at all. But they were certainly real to Sam antha,
and she grew sadder w hen she related the second one, for she felt
the barrier between her future and present— the unscalable
m o u n ta in of m ath an d chemistry— stood before her. She could
see n o way to bridge it.
We scheduled several additional sessions quickly because she
h ad to determ ine w hether to stay in school, which was impossible
if she co u ld n 't get th ro u g h her exams. I know th a t doctors are
supposed to be objective, but I felt a special affinity for S a m an
tha. She rem inded me o f my ow n daughter, Amy, w ho had her
ow n dreams, her ow n bright future.
Sam an th a came back tw o days later. W hen she was in a deep

hypnotic trance, I instructed her to proceed along the pathw ay of
M - - B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
her optim al future. Unerringly, the medical school graduation

and the p roud pediatrician images reappeared, this time in even
m ore detail, from the green trim of her academic robe to the a n
tiseptic smell of the hospital corridors. "T his is my future," she
insisted confidently when I asked her to explore alternatives in
her current life. She would n o t be dissuaded, m ath and chemistry
notw ithstanding. The session did n o t change her sense of fru stra
tion, but it did seem to motivate her to stay in school a n d go on
w ith her therapy. There was m ore hope somehow and her strong
sense th a t her dream s of the future would be realized. Urgency
a n d fear were still present, but now she became m ore patient, and
there was a resolute will to progress. "I'll make it," she kept re
peating.
If she believed, so did I.
In the next session it was from a deep level th a t I led her into a
p ast life. "I see a m an," S a m an th a said. "He's n o t me, a n d yet he
is me. He's an architect, a n d his job is to design buildings for the
agora— for kings. He's a m aster at spatial relations, at geometric
designs. But these buildings are special. This is the m ost im p o r
ta n t com m ission he has ever received. They're com plicated de
signs and he's worried th a t he w o n 't get them right, but the
co m p u ta tio n s are difficult and the answers d o n 't com e to him.
O h , I'm sorry for him— for me! H e's a fine musician a n d plays a
flute a t night to ease his spirits, but tonight the music does him no
good. He's straining an d struggling, but the answers just w o n 't
come. Poor man. If he can't— "
She stopped in mid-sentence, her expression one of puzzle
ment. H e r eyes rem ained closed. "W ait a minute. I'm n o t in
Greece anym ore but in Rome. It's a few hundred years later.
There's an o th er man. A civil engineer. Again he's me and n o t me.
H e designs buildings, bridges, roadways, aqueducts. H e know s
the com position and capabilities of the materials he uses, knows
how to m ake sure th at w hat he builds will last forever. H e's an ex
pert m athem atician as well. He's considered the best. H e is the
best. I'm so happy for him, I could cry."
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - —
65
In early regressions it is n o t unusual for one life to " in terru p t" a n

other, so I w asn't surprised by S am antha's sudden leap from
Greek times to R om an. And taken by themselves, the tw o past
lives were not remarkable. T here were no powerful spiritual in
sights, no tragedies, tra u m as, or catastrophes th a t m ight have led
us to an u nderstanding of her present blockage. Yet the dual re
gression was nevertheless immensely im p o rta n t because S a m a n
tha was able to connect emotionally and viscerally with the
struggling Greek architect and the civil engineer. She e m p a th ized
w ith them. She could well u nderstand the frustration of the a r
chitect, and she felt the triu m p h of the engineer because she had
know n the same feelings in her dreams of the future. In effect, she
was em pathizing w ith herself. She knew she was architect a n d en
gineer, and th at was en o u g h for her to let go of her present sym p
tom . In a sense she already possessed a powerful m athem atic and
problem-solving ability, learned in the past.
I could see im m ediately th a t her new perception of herself
was carried over from the regression experience. She became
much more confident in speech and bearing. H e r self-image had
been transform ed. T h e block would soon be gone, I m used, and
indeed this shift in her consciousness manifested itself alm ost im
mediately in an "a h a " com prehension of the m athem atical and
chemical concepts th a t h a d been eluding her.
With the continued help of her tutor, S am antha's m ath and
science grades began im proving as early as the next round of
tests, and the positive reinforcement from her improved scores in
creased her confidence even more. I continued to see her for al
m ost a year, then term in ated therapy, convinced th a t she would
achieve the prom ise of her dreams. At the end of her senior year
in college she came to see me.
"I did it!" she exclaimed.
I knew w hat she m e a n t but let her explain. "D id what?"
"G o t into med school."
66 B R I A N E. W E I S S , M . D .
"G o o d for you!" I said, deeply gratified. "Where?"

H e r eyes twinkled, an d she gave me an impish grin. "You see,
Dr. Weiss, my dream s of the future aren't always infallible. The
school isn't in the South. I'm going to Cornell."
S am a n th a , a budding doctor, showed em pathy for herself in the

p ast an d therefore could move tow ard her future. M a x , an expe
rienced doctor, showed his em pathy for others in the p ast and
therefore could see his future and transform his present.
W h en I m et him initially, he was, to pu t it bluntly, obnoxious
(even doctors m ake snap judgm ents at first meetings), and I
w asn 't the only one w ho could n 't stand him. H e was a d o c to r at a
neighboring hospital, a n d m any of his patients and colleagues
felt the sam e way. Indeed, it was one of his colleagues, Betsy
Prager, a psychologist, w ho sent him to me for treatm ent. Better
my office than hers was her attitude. She said the hospital staff
had pretty m uch ordered him into therapy.
H e arrived like a su m m er squall, high winds and high heat,
pacing in front o f my desk in a state of advanced anxiety. "I
sho u ld n 't be here," he announced. " N o need for it. T h o se bas
tards who run the hospital think I should be toned dow n. I think
they should be fired. T hey 're n o t letting me do my job."
H e was a tall m an o f thirty-eight w ith jowly red face, u n
k em p t thinning brow n hair, a n d eyes flashing fire. Dressed in tan
slacks an d a Hawaiian shirt, he looked more like a b a rten d e r than
a physician.
"Jesus!" he went on. "T his night nurse. Typical w om an. O ne
of my patients— great guy, a true prince, heroic, super family—
has meningitis. Calls for her. H e's vomiting. She w o u ld n 't get off
the phone. I screamed at her to stop talking. She claimed her son
was sick. Fat chance. A nd w hen she hung up, I let her have it,
threatened to beat her brains out."
"W hen was this?"
SAME SOUL, M AN Y BODIES - — — 67
"Last week. T h e hitch reported me. I guess that's why Dr.

Prager called you."
"W h at time did you threaten her?" I asked quietly.
"M idnight. M aybe after."
"W h at were you do in g at the hospital so late?"
"M y job. L o oking after my patients."
"Dr. Prager says you're often late and always tired. She tells
me you take on duties a resident or intern could handle."
"Yeah, if they d id n 't have brains in their ass instead of their
heads." H e p u t his h an d s on my desk and leaned tow ard me con
fidentially. "You k n o w how it is. You can't trust 'em. I tell them
w hat to do dow n to the smallest detail, and they always seem to
screw it up. Leave 'em w ith a patient, kiss off the patient."
W hen I worked at M o u n t Sinai, alm ost all the residents and
interns were dedicated an d com petent, eager to learn and to help.
O nce I got to k n o w th em , I trusted them up to the limits of their
knowledge. H o w different could his hospital be? " D o n 't you get
exhausted w orking a t th a t pace?"
"Sometimes," he acknow ledged, sitting d o w n at last. He
seemed to welcome the chair, for he visibly relaxed, th o u g h one
foot jiggled against the floor. T h en his agitation flared again. " O f
course I get tired. W h o w ouldn't? If you knew the extent of in
com petence I see every day, it'd blow your m ind. W rong doses.
W rong diagnoses. W rong diets. Incivility, back talk, filth on the
floors, incorrect charts . . ." H e trailed off like a dying engine.
"Endangering your patients?" I prom pted.
T h e engine refired. "You bet, endangering them! Some
tim es"— he leaned tow ard me again, and his voice d ropped to a
whisper— "they die."
Yes, some patients die. M aybe the m an w ith meningitis
would die. But very few deaths can be ascribed to m istreatm ent at
the hospital o r medical malpractice. C ancer kills. Viruses kill.
Automobile accidents kill. "B ut that's inevitable," I said.
" N o t w ith my patients."
68 B R IA N I . WFISS, M.D.
This was said so positively and w ith such arrogance th a t I re

coiled. "Surely some of them ," I said. "T he cancer patients. T he
aged. T h e stroke victims."
A strange thing happened: His eyes filled with tears. "True.
And every time it happens, I w ant to kill myself. I love my p a
tients, every one of them , and when one of them dies, I die with
them. It rips me up inside."
"You shouldn't— " I started but then gave up trying to c o n
tradict or console him.
"You know who I get angriest at?" H e sobbed. "M e."
We w ent on in this vein for the rest of the session. It turned
o u t th a t he was obsessive-compulsive about every detail of his p a
tients' medical care, th o ugh n o t in other aspects of his life. I
guessed th a t his patients liked his attention at first but then some
of th em resented it, for they m ust have sensed the anxiety a t
tached to his obsessiveness. H e was overly involved w ith his p a
tients em otionally as well. A gain, the bonding was probably
welcomed at the start, before his hovering m ade them nervous.
M a x suffered alongside his patients. His anxiety a b o u t them
would develop into despair an d remorse if they failed to recuper
ate. Each setback was his fault, each death unforgivable. As we
got to k n o w each other, he told me he prescribed antidepressant
medicines for himself when the em otional pain became to o great.
H e began experiencing chest pains and, terrified, rushed to a c a r
diologist. T h e cardiologist could find nothing w ro n g although he
conducted a battery o f tests. Still, the pains persisted, often debil-
itatingly so. Incapable of delegating, especially by p h one, M a x
w ent to the hospital far m ore frequently than necessary— "just to
make sure everyone was all right," as he put it. But this m e a n t he
had little time for his family, and even the hours he spent with
them were m arred by his m o o d swings and sudden o utbursts of
temper. In time I became sorry for him.
"I expect all my patients to get better," M a x said flatly. Thus
he derived no satisfaction when they did get better. A patient's joy
was n o t matched by his own. M a x 's was hardly a case of a physi
SAME SOUL, M A N Y B O D I E S -— 69
cian feeling o m n ip o te n t an d som ehow expecting perfection with

all his patients. Each tim e a patient got worse, he felt less sure of
himself, less w orthy o f the title "doctor." His bluster, his verbal
attacks, and his rage were all a cover for one underlying fact: He
was afraid.
M a x 's physical a n d psychological sym ptom s were da nge r
ous, even life-threatening. After careful probing on b oth our
parts, the causes of his distress did n o t seem to lie in the present
or in his childhood. I explained p ast life therapy, telling him that
w hether it was real o r could be interpreted as m etaphor, symbol,
o r fantasy was n o t the point, healing was— and th a t m any of my
patients got better. "W ould you like to try it?" I asked.
"Hell, no! I'll find o u t I was an axe murderer."
Unlikely, but I d id n 't dispute him. "W ould you like to go into
the future then?"
H e brightened. "Sure. It's bound to be better th a n the
present."
O ften logical, left-brain patients— doctors and lawyers, for ex

ample— find progression easier than regression. T hey figure it is
all im agination anyway. In my practice, though, m uch m ore than
imagination usually flows forth.
M a x 's body quickly relaxed, and he w ent to a deeper level, a
welcome respite from his everyday life. It didn't take long for a
clear image to arise. H e saw himself as a teacher of m any healers,
a physician of the n ea r future, surrounded by his students in a
kind of celestial amphitheater.
"T he w ork is satisfying," he told me. " M o st of th e m are bet
ter doctors th an I am , but I'm able to go beyond the body to the
emotions. I teach th em how consciousness separates from the
body so we can u n d erstan d the mechanisms of spiritual healing.
You see, consciousness goes in stages. First it hovers over the
physical body, reviewing its emotional life and prepa rin g to go
higher. T h en it leaves the em otional body behind as well, all the
"0 - ------ B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
while becom ing lighter an d lighter. In this state I call it the 'm e n
tal body.' Finally, it separates from this realm and is free to adjust
its natural vibration to the spheres, so it can go to even higher
states."
H e turned his head tow ard me w ith great seriousness, teach
ing me as well as his students in the future, though in his h y p n o
tized state he was unaware of my actual presence.
"W h e n we u n d e rs ta n d how the four stages inte rac t a n d affect
each other, clues to psychological and bodily healing on the
physical plane can be discovered, analyzed, a n d applied. This is
m y area o f research, a n d it will change m edicine forever. I call my
cou rse T h e M u ltid im e n s io n a l H ealin g of All Energy Bodies."
H is description was so clear and verified the vision of other
patients so much th a t I felt a thrill of recognition. H is area of re
search was mine. "It will change medicine forever," he said. This
was my own belief, th o u g h usually I leave the th o u g h t unsaid.
From o u r earlier sessions I knew th a t M a x had never read any
N e w Age books o r spiritual texts— he considered the whole field
worthless— so he could n o t have picked up the ideas from prior
reading. A M ethodist, he had received standard religious tra in
ing, but it did n o t remotely approach the topics a n d concepts he
ta u g h t in the future. H e had no belief in the metaphysical. It is
probable th a t he h ad never used such phrases as "spiritual heal
ing" an d "m ental bo dy" in his life.
" W h a t the hell was th a t all about?" he asked w hen I brought
him back to the present. H e seemed am used rather th a n awed by
his experience.
"W h o knows?" I answered. T h en I told him merely th a t the
p a tte rn o f physician, teacher, an d healer was n o t surprising,
given his current profession, and th at although I was no expert,
his observations seemed to have similarities to certain m etaphys
ical concepts I had heard a b o u t over the years.
M y thoughts, however, w ent further. W h a t he experienced
was n o t a fantasy, I believe, but elements of his consciousness
constructing an archetype of w h at he wished to be in his next life.
SAME SOUE, M A N Y BODIES - 7(
W hat he saw tied in to others' near death experiences, but he

went further, to a place where he could talk ab o u t h u m a n con
sciousness an d see it climbing toward the One.
"I w an t to go back now," he said in o ur next session, still excited

by his journey.
"To past lives?"
"You got it. T h e future was great. H ow bad can the past be?
Besides, I'm curious."
I rem inded him th a t he had control over the process and that
he could always stop o r adjust the experience o r even move to a
different life if he w anted.
Once again he w ent easily into a trance state, an d I led him to
the past. To my surprise, given his unpleasant m ale chauvinism,
he was a wom an.
"I am young, beautiful, m arried to a good m an. It's— what?
T h e twelfth century, th irteen th century? I live in a small c o m m u
nity in Europe, E astern E urope. I've had m any illnesses th ro u g h
o u t my life, and m aybe that's why I became a healer, though I'm
happiest a m o n g my anim als and plants. W hen I was pregnant, I
had scarlet fever a n d lost my child. I can't have another. It makes
me and my h u sb an d very sad.
"W hen people are sick, they call for me, for they know that
when I touch th em o r if I treat them w ith my herbs and plants,
they get better. Sometimes it seems a miracle. Some of the people
accept me an d are k in d to me and my h usband, b u t m ost of them,
I think, are afraid o f me. T hey think I'm a witch a n d have super
natural powers. They th in k I'm weird or crazy. But I'm not. I'd
just rather be w ith anim als and plants th an w ith them.
"There's this one m a n , w ho lives in a nearby village. He's al
ways shouting at me to go away and w arning the neighborhood
children n o t to get n ear me. But now he needs me, an d he comes
to fetch me. His wife has delivered a stillborn daughter, a da u g h
ter who died just like mine, and now she's delirious and is 'burn-
B R IA N I . WHISS, M.D.
ing up.' I rush with him to his house. His wife is very sick. She's
having trouble breathing, and her tem perature is high. I place my
h ands on her abd o m en , over her uterus. I feel a familiar energy
com e from my hands, a burst of healing energy transm itting it
self to her. I use the plants and herbs to treat her fever. But it's not
going to work— it's n o t going to w ork!"
M a x became agitated in my office. His breathing was fast,
and there was anguish in his expression. There was no d anger to
him in his trance state— there never is in anyone's— but he was
obviously em pathizing w ith the young girl and with himself as he
recalled these ancient events.
"I'm right," M a x said, still in the trance. "I'm too late. T he
infection has overwhelmed the p o o r mother's defenses. She dies
even as my energy flows into her. N o one could have saved her. It
is the greatest defeat o f my life."
M a x 's agitation increased. "T h e w oman's hu sb a n d is furious!
H e has been drinking th ro u g h o u t the process— I've barely n o
ticed him — and now he's distraught, o u t of his m ind, at the loss
of his wife so soon after his baby died. 'You killed her, you devil!
You witch!' he screams, an d before I can defend myself, he raises
a knife and plunges it into my chest. I'm in shock. I c an't believe
it. There's this sharp pain in my chest. It's as though the knife has
reached my heart!"
M a x doubled over in pain but just as quickly relaxed. "I'm
floating now, and when I look dow n, I can see my body lying on
the floor in th a t man's cabin. It's calm. There's a golden light in
the sky, and it touches me. A healing light."
I bro u g ht him back to the present. M a x had undergone a lot
in th a t single session. H e was n o t am used now, but he w asn't
upset. H e was pensive an d serious, reflecting on th a t lifetime cen
turies ago. It was, he knew, his life; he was th at healer. We dis
cussed his feelings then and now, the physical pain, the anxiety,
the em pathy he felt for the dying m oth er then and the em pathy he
felt for the young healer now. T he experience was m uch more
em otional than th a t of the consciousness researcher of the fu
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES -—
83
ture. But, I pointed out, th a t researcher had given M a x the key to

unlock this past life. N o w he would be able to use th a t past life,
particularly the em p ath y he felt for the m oth er and healer, to
guide him in the present.
O ver the next weeks the changes in M a x were a p p a re n t to
his family, his colleagues, his patients, a n d me. His chest pain
disappeared now th a t he knew its root cause. H e u n d e rs to o d
th a t alth o u g h he h ad been killed for failing to heal his p a tie n t in
his p rio r life, just as he w a n te d to "kill him self" w hen he failed in
this one, then an d n o w th e p a tie n ts' deaths were n o t his fault. H e
realized th a t he could use his know ledge and m edical expertise
to do his best, b ut th a t he c o u ld n 't always con tro l the outcom e.
M o s t patients w ould d o well, b u t some w ould n o t for a variety
o f reasons beyond his skill. His anxiety a b o u t his c u rre n t p a
tients dim inished steadily a n d eventually disappeared. H is rages
also vanished. H e was n o longer unrealistic a b o u t his p e rfo r
m an ce or the p e rfo rm a n c e of the staff. H e m ad e friends a m o n g
his colleagues an d becam e closer to his family. A nd he no longer
suffered from th e guilt, rem orse, o r depression th a t h a d plagued
his life before his voyages to the p ast and to the future.
M a x has kept in touch. H is diagnostic a n d therapeutic skills
are, he tells me, "b etter ho n e d " since his therapy. In o u r last c o n
versation he ad m itted th a t when the other medical staff is not
looking, he'll place his h a n d s on the area of the patient's body
th a t needs healing an d feel the surge of energy he remembers
from centuries ago.
T h e ability to em pathize w ith past and future versions of th e m

selves liberated b o th S am an th a and M a x from the tyranny of
their present-day fears. For them and for all of us em p a th y is the
key to forgiveness. W hen we feel a deep em otional identification
w ith younger versions, even past-life m anifestations of ourselves,
we can appreciate the circumstances th at led to o u r present
sym ptom s and negative judgments. When we u n derstand our
"4 B R I A N L. W T . I S S , M . D .
negative impulses and can see where they originated in ourselves,

we can let go of them. W hen we do, self-esteem increases, and we
are able to see ourselves m ore favorably
Equally, em pathy is the key to understanding and forgiving
others. T h ro u g h em p ath y we can com prehend their fears, their
beliefs, and their needs. T hese will often be identical to o u r own.
We can understan d them even if we d o n 't fully share their beliefs.
We will know on a deep em otional level where they are com ing
from in their souls. To hate them is to hate ourselves; to love them
is to love ourselves. T h e only sane course is to let go of hate.
E m pathy heals the individual at the same tim e th a t it heals
the world. It is the sister of com passion and the child of u n c o n d i
tional love.
C H A P T E R 5
Hugh and Chitra:

Compassion
mpathy and compassion are often used synonymously, but
E they are really tw o different elements in the h u m a n psyche.

True, when you u n d erstan d another's feelings as your own and
are able to p u t yourself in his o r her place, you will alm ost surely
becom e com passionate tow ard th a t person. But you can also be
com passionate w ith o u t empathy. You can feel com passion for
som eone or even an insect or anim al even if you d o n 't recognize
the other's feelings in yourself.
In Buddhist teaching you are instructed to be com passionate
tow ard animals an d insects because all living creatures have
souls; indeed, they may have been hum ans in their past lives and
may be h u m an s again. (I d o n 't find this in my w ork, but it doesn't
m ean the concept isn't true. It may simply be th a t h u m a n s d o n 't
rem em ber lifetimes as a different species.) T hus, you can be c o m
passionate toward a beetle o r a bear w ith o u t em pathizing w ith it,
w ith o u t putting yourself in the insect's or anim al's place.
C om passion comes from the heart, and it is illustrated by
being kind and benevolent to all living things. C hrist was
supremely com passionate; by all accounts so was M o h a n d a s
G andhi. W hen "your h ea rt goes o u t to som eone," you are being
"6 -------B R I A N E. W E I S S , M . D .
com passionate. T he "ra n d o m acts of kindness" th a t m any speak

ab o u t— letting som eone go ahead of you in a checkout line; relin
quishing your subway seat to a pregnant w om an; giving food to
the homeless— are all examples of com passionate behavior, but
only if they come from a genuine impulse to be kind and n o t be
cause you are "doing the right thing" or expect brownie points in
heaven.
C om passion is more instinctual, em pathy m ore intellectual;
they com e from different places. If you do the "D ialogue with Ill
ness" exercise described in chapter 3 and change places w ith, say,
your abusive father, you d o n 't necessarily have to be com p a ssio n
ate toward him. You may realize: "Wow, my father's father did
the same thing to him th at he's doing to me. H e to o k the cruel
things he learned from his father, from his culture, and from his
peers, an d transm itted them undigested to me. I em pathize with
w hat he felt because I un d erstan d those feelings, and I'm going to
break the transmission of negative behavior because of w hat I
learned."
T h a t is an intellectual exercise. However, ideally, and even in
as extrem e a case as an abusive father, as you em pathize w ith your
father, you can begin to feel com passion for him. This may be dif
ficult; he may be just as cruel to you as before. But he is an injured
h u m a n being like yourself, and th a t realization m ight allow you a
heartfelt response as well as an intellectual one. If you d o re
spond, if you can see beyond your injuries, you'll find th a t as em
pathy an d com passion merge, they lead you tow ard the final
destination of all the lessons on the route to im m ortality: spiri
tual love, unconditional love, love th a t is pure and everlasting.
"I've h eard you're fam ous for treating people by taking them
back to their past lives. Is this true?"
T h e caller was a m an n am ed H u g h , and if I was "fam o u s" in
my field, so was he in his. H e was a psychic m edium w hose local
television show drew an audience of m any thousands, the bulk of
87
them wishing to c o n tact loved ones who had died. I'm not psychic
myself except to the extent th a t all of us are som etim es psychic
(the "hunch" th at leads to the correct business decision; the
"surety" th a t makes us choose one life path over another), but I
know it exists. I adm ire those like John Edw ard and Jam es Van
Praagh w ho seem to possess it and use it for healing, and I have
long since learned n o t to denigrate things I do n o t understand.
"I've had some success regressing patients," I acknowledged.
"D oes this call concern therapy?"
"Yes. M ine." H e gave a nervous high-pitched laugh. "Psychic,
heal thyself? I d o n 't seem to be able to do it on my ow n."
We m ade an a p p o in tm e n t for the following week, and I
awaited it eagerly. I had treated other psychic patients before and
found th em to be uniform ly interesting. T heir extrem e sensitivity
and their openness to th e concept of past lives m ade them partic
ularly suited to regression therapy.
H u g h was a slight m an, short and thin, looking far less im
posing than he did the one time I had w atched his pro g ra m —
such is the power of television. His face was ruddy from the
continued use of m akeup, and his clothes (chinos and black
T-shirt) seemed one size to o large. H e was obviously nervous, for
his glances d arted a ro u n d the room like fireflies, and he fre
quently had to clear his th ro a t before he could get o u t a sentence,
though once he started, he was eloquent.
"W hat's the trouble?" I asked.
"I'm exhausted. Bone tired. It's not physical, th o u g h I d o n 't
exercise enough, but mental. I feel as if all the people in the world
are after me, w anting me to connect them to those they've lost.
A nd they're so needy, so insistent, so worthy, so legitimately h u n
gry th at when I say no, I feel guilty— eno rm o u s guilt th a t weighs
a million pounds. I can 't get it off my back."
People in the mall o r even on the street w ould ask him for
readings or inform ation or messages from the beyond, but it
doesn 't w ork like that. It's n o t as if he can dial up someone's rela
tive, leap to the beyond, and deliver a message on cue. It takes en
~ X - B R I A N I.. W K I S S , M . D .
ergy, strength, and time to w ork as he does, and it sapped him. I

em pathized. T h e same kind of well-meaning assault has h a p
pened to me to some extent; I, too, have been stopped in restau
rants or breaks during w orkshops. But people know regression is
a tim e-consum ing process and understand w ith o u t bitterness
th a t I can't acco m m o d ate them . People seemed to think H ugh
could access the messages left for them while he was eating din
ner. H e wanted to help— oh, how he wished he could help every
one of them! T h a t he co u ldn't m ade him feel worthless, an d with
each rejected request his anxiety increased.
H e was, he told me, b oth clairvoyant and clairaudient— th a t
is, he had the ability to see things happening before they occurred
o r at a distance, beyond the view of the h u m an eye, a n d also hear
messages spoken only to himself. Like m ost psychics, these abili
ties manifested themselves very early. M an y children, for e x a m
ple, have im aginary friends, often simply because they're lonely
a n d crave companionship. In some cases, however, the friends are
n o t im aginary at all. In T hrough T im e into H ealing I wrote
a b o u t a young girl whose m oth er couldn't u n derstand why she
showed no grief at the death of her grandm other. "W hy should I
be sad?" the girl asked. "I was just talking to her. She's sitting in a
chair in my ro o m ." T h a t the g ra n d m o th e r told the child secrets
ab o u t the m other's childhood— secrets she could n o t have discov
ered on her own— validated the story. O th er children, seeing acci
dents or hearing messages th a t tu rn o u t to be true, have added to
the evidence of psychic ph enom ena.
Usually, a child's psychic pow ers disap p ear before he o r she
reaches the age of six. Occasionally, tho u g h , the pow ers n o t only
rem ain b u t grow stronger. T his is w h at h ap p en e d w ith H u g h .
"W hen I was a kid ," he said, "the other children th o u g h t I
was weird. 'T h a t's crazy,' they'd say when I told them I'd seen a
dead person who spoke to me or tried to w arn them a b o u t a mes
sage I'd received. Sometimes their families told them n o t to play
w ith me. They m ade me feel crazy, but th at d id n 't stop the visions
or the messages. So w h at I did was keep them to myself, hide
89
them from everybody. I was different then." H e paused and

cleared his throat. ''And I'm different now."
T he low self-esteem he had developed as a child continued
into ad ulthood, an d for several sessions we worked on th a t issue
and on others associated w ith it. But I already knew th a t we
would have to go deeper than just childhood sensitivities. I sug
gested regression. " T h at's why I'm here," he said, smiling.
H u g h easily entered the trance state (he had been practicing,
in a way, since he was a little boy). "I see flying vehicles," he
began. " N o t exactly planes, but more like cars th a t can fly, po w
ered by pure energy. T h ey cruise over sleek buildings pointed sky
w ard and m ade o f glass. Inside, men are w orking on advanced
technology, an d I a m one of those men, one of the best and m ost
im p o rta n t scientists employed there. T he goal is to m ake every
thing more powerful so th a t we can alter all m aterial forms, all
m atter on E arth, a n d control it, control the behavior of others,
control nature. It's n o t for good, though. It's for dom inance. We
scientists are w ork in g to do m in ate the world."
"Interesting," I said. "You've gone into a future time." I
began therapy w ith H u g h just as I was starting to progress my
patients, and he seemed to have arrived millennia ahead w ithout
prom pting.
His response surprised me: "It isn't the future at all. N o. This
is Atlantis."
Atlantis! T h e fabled realm described by dozens of writers,
m ost famously by E d g ar Cayce. It existed thirty th o u sa n d or
forty th o u san d years ago a n d then disappeared. Atlantis, whose
inhabitants ruled their p a r t of the world because they alone held
the secrets of all m a tte r an d all living things. H u g h h ad n o t pro
gressed into the future; he was in a world th a t had vanished long
before recorded history.
"M y job is to change my level of consciousness and learn
techniques of energy m an ipulation in order to transform m a t
ter," he said. H e was b reathing quickly and was clearly agitated
by his role in this strange society.
SO - B R I A N L. W K I S S . M . D .
"T ransform m a tter by using psychic energy?" I asked, look

ing for clarification.
"Yes. T h ro u g h the energy of the m ind." H e hesitated. " O r
maybe we used crystals. Energy through crystals. I'm n o t sure.
It's not the energy of electrical current— it's som ething m ore a d
vanced than th at."
"And you're an im p o rta n t scientist."
"Exactly. It's w h a t I was train ed to do." H e grew sad. "I w a nt
to achieve p erso n al power. It m eans suppressing m y spiritual
side, b u t th at's the price I m u st pay. M aybe I could alter my level
o f consciousness to an even higher vibration. T h a t way I could
advance spiritually, to a p p ro a c h a place beyond m atter, beyond
time. But I d o n 't b o th e r w ith that. M y colleagues a n d I— w ha t
we are d o in g is bad. O u r aim is to control the civilizations su r
ro u n d in g us, an d we are succeeding. We are achieving o u r goal."
His life review was predictable to me. H e regretted his actions
and realized th at he had taken the w rong path. If he had used his
higher m ind, his m ind's energy, for good and com passionate p u r
poses, n o t for power an d self-aggrandizement, he w ould have led
a better, happier existence. H e had wasted his know ledge, wasted
his power, and wasted his life.
After he had left, I w ro te tw o notes:
" T h a t H u g h led a previous life in Atlantis does n o t prove the
existence of Atlantis by any m eans or th a t I believe in it. This is
only his experience, a n d perhaps he was seeing the future after
all. It m ight be fantasy. It m ight be true. T he im p o rta n t thing is
his regret th a t he did n o t use his psychic powers for higher goals.
T h a t seems to be his regret today.
"T here seemed to be a higher level of technology at th a t time
than we possess now. Perhaps m any people from th a t time are
reincarnating at the present time because ou r technology is, once
again, advancing to the level th a t existed in th a t ancient time and
we have to see if we have learned o ur lessons— it's the conflict be
tween the com passionate use or selfish use of o u r advanced p o w
S A M E S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S -— 81
ers. T he last time we nearly destroyed the planet. W hich option

will we take now?"
At his next regression session H u g h found himself in Europe— he

wasn't sure which c o u n try — in the M iddle Ages. "I'm a large
man with broad, powerful shoulders. I'm dressed simply in a
tunic, and my hair is disheveled. I am addressing an assembly of
townspeople. M y eyes are piercing and wild a n d incredibly in
tense. I tell the people th a t they d o n 't need to go to the church or
listen to the priests to find G od. 'G o d is in yourselves, in every one
of us. You d o n 't need those hypocrites to show you the way to
Him . Everyone has access to divine w isdom. I will show you the
way very simply, a n d you will be independent of the church and
its a rro g an t priests. T h ey will lose their control, which you will
reclaim for yourselves.' "
H u g h was soon taken prisoner by the church authorities and
was tortured to recant. But he w ouldn't, no m atte r how cruelly he
was punished. Eventually, he told me with horror, he was literally
torn ap a rt on a rack th a t the priests had placed in the town
square, in p a r t because of the priests' fury but also because they
wanted to use him as an exam ple to w arn the tow nspeople not to
think in dangerous ways.
In a brief review of th a t lifetime, he m ade connections back
to his ancient A tlantean life, which I sum m arized in a later note:
"O v ercom pensation tow ard spiritual rather th a n selfish m o
tives in reaction to his A tlantean life and his knowledge of the
possibilities o f higher levels of consciousness led H u g h to be too
public and not to pay enough attention to the power of the
Catholic Church at th a t time and its zealous elimination of
heretics o r anyone w ho attacked the Church's power, even at the
lowest levels."
H u g h also m ade connections to his present life. "M y powers
were developed in Atlantis," he told me. "It's there I learned my
82 - B R I A N I.. W E I S S , M . D .
clairvoyant, clairaudient, and telepathic skills," referring to the

psychic powers of sight, hearing, and mind.
" W h a t ab o u t the messages?" I asked.
"T h o se are different," he said quickly. "T hey com e from the
spirits."
"T h e spirits? W h a t d o you mean?"
"Spirits. D isem bodied spirits. I can't be m ore definite." H e
cleared his throat. "T h ey give me knowledge. T hey tell me the
tru th ."
A familiar them e— o th er patients spoke of spirits— but I de
tected a difference. W h en he left, I wrote the following:
"By externalizing the origins of his know ledge to others,
H u g h was magically trying to prevent an occurrence of the phys
ical destruction visited on his body in the M iddle Ages. In other
words he was saying, 'T h is is no t me. I'm just hearing it from o th
ers, even if they're spirits.' It was a kind of safety device because
having psychic power is dangerous. But in a way the spirits pre
vented him from accessing even higher levels of his m ultidim en
sional consciousness."
Perhaps, I tho u g h t, he could access those higher levels if I
progressed him to the future. H e was a talented psychic. W ould
he perhaps be even m ore talented and more accurate th a n others
if he could access w h at was to come? It w asn't essential to his
therapy; he had learned the source of his anxiety and achieved an
acceptance of his psychic powers. But still, I was curious as to
w h at he would discover.
W ould he be willing to progress to the future and take me
w ith him? H e could hardly wait.
M aybe H u g h went too deep. H e seemed to be experiencing two

journeys simultaneously, one into the future an d the other into
higher an d higher levels of consciousness, to worlds a n d d im en
sions above and beyond this one.
"T h e next level, the one just beyond ours, isn't as dense as the
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - ——93
one we know," he told me in a voice full of awe. "T h e re is trouble

getting there. T h e way is full of peril, but when we arrive, we're
more mental and less physical. Everyone's telepathic. There's a
higher vibration. O u r bodies are lighter. M ovem ent is easier."
In a way it was like the Atlantis he had described in his first re
gression. But there was more.
"I'm going u p a n d up. A t the different levels there are changes
in the quality of the light. I can't describe it. It gets brighter but
softer. It doesn't have color, or it has all colors. It leads to dim en
sions beyond light an d beyond where th o u g h t could go. This level
is incomprehensible to the h u m an mind. A nd still I keep going.
There's n o end. I go beyond infinity and, if possible, even beyond
that."
We both had the sense th a t these were positive places of great
calm and beauty, th o u g h beauty is too h u m d ru m a word. Hugh's
description lay m ore in his m an n er than in his words. W h a t he
envisioned transcended his vocabulary, and it was the serene
beauty of his face, which was no longer pinched, th a t served as
his eloquence.
T he future he described was not his personal future but the
future in general. (Later, when I started progressing groups in my
w orkshops or sem inars, this was usually the case, as I'll describe
in the final chapter.)
"T h e journey is like an airplane taking off in a th u n d e r
storm ," H u g h said. "It grows darker a n d d arker as we reach
cloud level. There's a lot o f turbulence, fear, an d anxiety. But then
we pierce the cloud layer and come o u t on the oth er side into a
brilliant sky— m an y shades of blue lit by an incandescent golden
sun. It takes m any years, m any centuries to get through the
clouds, which grow m ore om inous as the years pass. They are
clouds of tragedies an d calamities th a t will beset o u r civilization.
But eventually, in eight hundred or a th o u sa n d years, maybe
more, the clouds will disappear, the turbulence will disappear,
and there will be a feeling of peacefulness, awe, and safety."
H e leaned forw ard, confiding in me in his hypnotized state.
84 BR IA N I . WEISS, M.D.
"T h e people on the oth er side of the storm , they have mental
abilities and psychic abilities far beyond w hat I have now. They're
telepathic." His voice was alm ost a whisper. "T hey can access all
knowledge. They are mentally om nipotent."
Perhaps H u g h was describing Carl Jung's concept of the col
lective unconscious or w hat Eastern religions call the Akashic
Record. In this record every action, to the tiniest detail, an d every
thoug h t, no m atter how trivial, of all m ankind from the begin
ning of history is stored. Psychics may tap into this to learn the
thoughts an d dreams of o th er people, I thought. T h a t's w h a t he
said he told the townsfolk in the medieval town. A nd in his future
vision he had mastered w h at the Atlanteans were seeking. They
could convert m atter into energy and energy into matter, and
they could transform the elemental particles into each other by
harnessing the energy o f consciousness. In the tim e of Atlantis
this power was used for evil. In the M iddle Ages, though H u g h
did n o t specify it, alchemists tried to transform co m m o n m iner
als into gold. In the future th a t H u g h saw, everyone was an al
chemist, and they were using their powers for good. They had
com e th rough the clouds and into the blue sky and golden light.
I think H u g h 's quest is a m etap h o r for changing ourselves
from the physical to the spiritual, and he seemed to have accom
plished this in the far future. Perhaps all of us, those who are left
after the "tragedies an d calamities," will do the same. W h a t he
b rou g h t back from the future was this: In the time he envisioned,
the physical body could change. People could com e in and o u t of
their bodies at will. They could have out-of-body experiences
whenever they wished. Even d eath w asn't w hat it seemed. There
was no more disease: Physical and mental illnesses had disap
peared because people learned how to fix the energetic disrup
tions th a t cause disease in the physical dimensions.
I came to u n d erstan d why his progressions to o k a dual road.
In both there was a time of to rm e n t and then a paradise. Eventu
ally, the future curved higher and higher, becom ing m ore and
more sublime until it joined the progression of higher levels of
S A M E SOUL, M A N Y B O D I E S -—
85
consciousness— the higher dimensions or worlds th a t H u g h had

seen in his oth er journey forward. In other words, even though he
was going off in tw o directions, he was heading for the same des
tination. In the first journey he went directly to higher levels of
consciousness. In the second he went into future lives here on this
planet. Both futures w ould eventually reach the highest d im en
sions and would m eet at some point along the way. O u r futures,
he was saying, are like railway spurs, always leading to the m am
track. N o m atter which p a th we take, we are all going to the same
place, and th at place is a joy beyond all w ords and all h u m a n
com prehension.
In his present life H u g h no longer feels different because he

know s th a t his talents are possessed by all of us, although they
are latent in most. H e feels better ab o u t himself a n d privileged
th at he has been allowed glimpses into higher worlds. His work is
much clearer to him, an d he seems to receive inform ation from
higher levels now. H e no longer attributes his know ledge to "dis
crete and external spirits" because of the fear carried over from
the M iddle Ages. H e knowTs his powers lie w ithin himself. H e is
happier, and th a t is the best measure of his progress. T h e clarity
of his psychic readings reflects a clarity in his intention to help
others, in his will to tran sform despair into hope, and in his life.
H e has become the alchemist he set o u t to be millennia ago.
I've included his story in my discussion of com passion not
because he needed to learn it on his road to immortality, but be
cause he had a superab u n dance of it. H e felt sorrow and love for
all who approached him , a n d in so doing he gave up to o much of
himself. W ithout co m p assion no one can ascend to high planes in
the lives to come, b ut like all the virtues discussed in this book, it
is p a r t of a whole. O n e m ust learn com passion for others but also
for oneself.
86 — B R IA N I . WKISS, M.D .
Chitra, thirty-five, also gave com passion w ith o u t reward. A m o

lecular research biologist, she spent her days in the lab a n d her
evenings with her sickly and dem anding m other w ith w hom she
had lived for ten years. T here was no time for a social life or, in
deed, for a life of any kind o f her own.
She was the youngest child in an Indian family th a t had come
to America when she was young, and given the H in d u tradition in
which she was raised, she was expected to be the caregiver for her
mother. A bro th er a n d his wife could n o t be expected to do
this, n o r could her m arried older sister who h ad tw o children of
her own. Chitra had been m arried to a much older m an— an
arranged marriage— but her h u sb an d had died, leaving her with
no children. As a result, the care of her m other fell to her.
W hen she came to me, she com plained th a t her m other's d e
pendency and overprotectiveness was suffocating her; in fact, her
breathing was labored, and she had trouble getting o u t her
words. H indi was her first language, but she spoke fluent English,
as did her mother. She dressed only in saris except a t w ork when
she wore jeans and sweaters und er her lab coat. She was a curious
and delightful m ixture o f tw o cultures, though I d o u b t she was
amused. It was the older culture th a t kept her from enjoying the
younger.
M a n y H in d u s believe in reincarnation, but for them it is an
intellectual belief, p a r t o f their religion. Its use as a therapeutic
tool is virtually u n k n o w n . C hitra may or may n o t have believed in
past lives; she was reticent when I broached the subject. But she
readily agreed to a regression. After tw o weeks of practicing re
laxation an d hypnotic techniques, she was able to enter a m o d e r
ate trance state. H e r impressions were hazy and her words
halting.
"I'm in India . . . a prostitute but n o t really a prostitute. . . . I
travel with the a rm y which is fighting my enemies. . . . I d o n 't
kno w w hat year it is. . . . N o t so long ago . . . I am told th a t I am
needed by the soldiers. . . . They are all-im portant. . . . It is my
army, my people. . . . They have to be cared for. . . . I feed them
. . . satisfy their sexual needs. . . . I bate w hat I have to do. . . . I

can see myself dying. . . . I am still very young. . . . Yes, I am
dying . . . dying giving birth to a child."
T h a t was all. In h er life review she realized she d id n 't w a n t to
linger in such a place. H e lp in g the soldiers fight India's enemies
was n o t a higher g o o d at all. It was a convention devised by self
ish a n d cruel m en, a n d as a w o m a n she was tra p p e d , do o m e d .
T h e second regression was just as brief. "I am a w om an . . .
sacrificial robes. . . . I m u st be killed to ensure a good h a r v e s t.. . .
M aybe my death will p ro tect my people from enemies . . . from
natural disasters. . . . I am told it is a great h o n o r to die. . . . I and
my family will be rew arded in the afterlife. . . . T here is a sword
over my head. . . . It strikes."
In both cases she h a d trouble breathing, a n d each time I
bro u g h t her quickly back to the present. C hitra needed to learn
from these lifetimes, but n o t in great detail. She w ent straight to
the traum as, and w hen we talked ab o u t them , she realized th a t vi
olence is antithetical to spiritual concepts. Promises of later re
wards were self-serving lies by the generals o r religious elders
whose power was based on ignorance, deception, a n d fear.
We discovered the link in the tw o lives a n d their relevance to
Chitra's present situation: In b oth regressions she h ad been
forced to sacrifice her ow n life, her own goals, her ow n happiness
for some "higher" good. A nd, in effect, the sacrifice killed her, as
it was killing her now.
C h itra 's m o th e r h a d a p a s t life m em o ry as well, th o u g h she never

cam e into my office. E x cited a b o u t the w ork we were doing, C h i
tra b ro u g h t h o m e m y regression C D s a n d w as practic in g at
h om e, just as I en c o u ra g e all m y patients to do. H e r m other, lis
tening, saw herself as a y o u n g Indian wife three centuries ago. In
th a t life C h itra was her m o th e r's deeply beloved h u s b a n d , the
focus of her existence. B ut soon the m an died, p ro b a b ly from
the venom of a snakebite. W hen C h itra's m o t h e r ^ n ^ ItUffk t<>
XX B R I A N L. W K I S S . M . D .
the present, she u n d e rs to o d th a t she had clung to C h itra , her

daughter, and explained it to C hitra as a reaction to her loss cen
turies ago. H er m o th e r's dependency and overprotectiveness,
C h itra now realized, h a d their roots n o t in this lifetime but in a
different one, an d she was able to be more forgiving.
H er m other began to change. Slowly; for she was overcoming
years of habit, she becam e less clinging, less protective. She be
cam e m ore open to spending time with her oth e r children, and
she was even willing to let C hitra start a social life, despite the
possibility th at it would lead Chitra into a relationship that
would interfere w ith her dependency. This in tu rn led to an im
provement in C hitra's outlook. For the first tim e she could look
forw ard w ith o u t dread, a n d she let me lead her into the future.
Chitra experienced w h at I to o k to be three future lives during a

single progression. In the first she saw herself as the m o th e r and
principal caregiver o f a young child w ith severe muscular, skele
tal, an d neurological deficits. T he family dynam ic required C hi
tra to expend m ost o f her time and energy on the little girl with
little return. H e r h u sb a n d in th a t life had w ith d raw n emotionally
and often physically; he simply couldn't deal w ith the tragedy.
T h u s the flow of co m passion, love, and energy seemed to me uni-
directionally o u tw ard , w ith Chitra giving but never receiving.
In a second future life C hitra suffered severe physical injuries
in a vehicle accident. "You could n 't really call it a car," she told
me. "It was m ore like a giant flying cylinder w ith w indows. Any
way, its p ro g ram m in g m alfunctioned, and w h a m !— it crashed
head-on into a tree." C hitra was paralyzed a n d h a d to receive ex
tensive physical a n d psychological rehabilitation. " T h e technical
levels o f medicine are advanced," she said w ith som e satisfaction,
"b u t regeneration of my nervous system tissue, b oth brain and
spinal cord, took m ore th an a year." Chitra smiled. "T h e hospital
staff was superb, but recovery was very difficult. I'm n o t sure I
SAME SOUI , M A N Y BODIES -89
would have m ade it w ith o u t the love of my family— I have an

adoring husb an d an d tw o boys and a girl— an d of my friends.
And the flowers! People called my hospital ro o m the G arden of
Allah."
Here, I thought, was the reverse of the first life. Again, c o m
passion, love, an d energy were unidirectional, but this time they
were flowing in.
In her third future, C h itra was a surgeon, specializing in o r
thopedics and neurology. "I w ork w ith rods or crystals," she ex
plained when I p o in ted o u t how unco m m o n it was to have two
such different areas of expertise. "T hey em it a light, an energy,
th at has a rem arkable healing effect, w hether it be bones or brain.
They also cause a sound energy th a t helps in the regeneration of
muscles, limbs, a n d ligam ents."
C hitra derived huge satisfaction from the results of her
knowledge and skills. T here was also positive feedback not
only from her patients a n d their families but from her profes
sional colleagues. H e r family life, too, was hap p y and flourishing.
In this life she seemed to have achieved the pro p er balance of in
flow and outflow. She was able to love others as well as herself.
C hitra told me th a t she reviewed this third life from a higher
perspective, m eaning th a t she had risen to a new level. She was
still in a hypnotized state when she said this, b u t then she sud
denly stopped. "I d o n 't k n o w how this life is going to end. It's
puzzling. I'll just have to leave it. N ow !" As always, she was not
one to linger in past or future lives.
Suddenly she was back in the present, an im a te d and stim u
lated by her voyages. "All the lives, past a n d present, are c o n
nected," she explained, "as is this life and the p ast life my m other
described. W h a t I've got to do is balance com passion, balance
love, which m ust be received as well as given." H e r determ ination
was palpable. " M y life's goals will never be sacrificed again— not
because of cultural values, individual circumstances, or guilt,"
she said. She was able to express her anger and resentm ent to
40 B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
ward her m o th er and her siblings for trapping her in the caregiver
role— despite the cultural taboos prohibiting such rebellion—
and by so doing freed herself.
We went back to the third of her future lives, and this time she
was able to see its end: death at an old age of n atural causes. In
her life review the significance th at eluded me became clear to
her. "T h e three future lives w eren't sequential o r linear," she ex
plained. "T h ey 're m anifestations of probable futures based on
w h a t I do in this life."
In a sense they were parallel futures th a t flowed sim ultane
ously; the one she ended up in would stem from the content of
the remainder of her life now. In fact, there were "a m ultitude of
possible futures," she told me, "all variations of the three I w it
nessed. And it's n o t only my consciousness but the collective
thoughts an d actions o f the entire h u m an p o p u la tio n th a t will
have a role in shaping the one th a t turns ou t to be the actual one.
If we consciously em brace compassion, empathy, love, patience,
and forgiveness, the future world will be incredibly different than
if we d o n 't."
H e r language had changed markedly. She no longer spoke in
short, choppy sentences. H e r m ore sophisticated w ords and ideas
reflected a connection to a higher level of consciousness. This
wise young w o m an h ad m uch to teach me.
"We have m uch m ore pow er to positively influence ou r indi
vidual future lives as well as the remaining future of ou r present
life than we do to influence the planetary o r collective future," I
noted after she left. "But ou r individual futures express th e m
selves in the collective future, and the actions of everyone will de
term ine which o f a m yriad possible futures we will com e back to.
If Chitra continued stuck in her present family pattern , then she
might have to experience a future as the paralysis victim forced to
receive love. If she just gave up, abruptly ending her relationship
w ith her mother, a b a n d o n in g her w ith o u t a reasonable c o m p ro
mise, she might have h a d to come back as the m o th er of the seri
ously impaired child. Because th at is how it works: We face
SA M E SOIIE, M A N Y BODIES 91
similar situations again an d again as we seek to learn the proper

balance between giving an d receiving, between sacrifice and c o m
passion for ourselves— until we achieve the state of harmony.
Given w hat she had learned and having recognized th a t balance,
Chitra would com e back as the orthopedic/neurological surgeon,
bur she could be b o rn into a world of more o r less violence, more
or less com passion an d loving, depending on the h a rm o n y others
attain. If enough of us can som ehow elevate the consciousness of
hu m a n k in d — if we can co m m it to changing the collective future
by improving o u r individual futures— we can actually change the
future of the entire world a n d all its inhabitants."
C om passion is, as I've said, related to empathy. It is also related to

love, in th a t it comes from the heart, just as love does. Three sim
ple exercises will help you reach th a t place in your h ea rt where
com passion, empathy, a n d love coexist, as will the psychometry
exercise I provided in chapter 3.
A Tear of Joy
Relax, using the sam e m e th o d described in chapter 3. W hen you
are in a relaxed state, rem em ber a time in your life w hen a tear of
joy came to your eye. (You m ight rem em ber several times.) I'm
not talking a b o u t w hen you w on the lottery o r your team won the
World Series; I m ean a time associated w ith som ething loving in
your life. It can be a m o m e n t when som eone unexpectedly did a
good deed for you, such as volunteering to take care of your chil
dren so you and your spouse could have a private weekend to
gether, or visiting you w hen you were sick. O r it can be a time
when you did a good deed for som ebody else, an action coming
not from a sense o f responsibility but from the heart. T he point is
th a t the giver— you o r a friend or stranger— acted o u t of c om
passion, with no expectation of reward. T he m ore you do this ex-
— B R I A N I . W E I S S , M. LI .
e ra se, the more the com passionate m om ents will be linked, one
to the next, an d the more easily a tear or tears will come. By
bringing com passionate memories freshly into your conscious
ness you will increase your capacity for joy, happiness, and fur
ther acts of compassion.
Interconnectedness
In a relaxed state, look into someone's eyes. If you see th a t person
looking back at you, th a t is the everyday event, so go deeper.
Look beyond w h a t lies at the surface of his or her eyes. Try to see
the soul looking back at you, and if you find it, you'll see there is
m ore depth in th a t person th an just a physical body. You'll know
th a t all people have a soul just as you do a n d th a t their soul and
your soul are connected. If you see your ow n soul looking back,
you'll have reached a deeper level because you'll see th a t we're all
of one substance an d of one soul. H o w is it possible n o t to feel
com passion then, for in treating another humanely, are you not
treating yourself? By loving another, are you n o t loving yourself?
The Humanity of Others

A variation of the above is to visualize the hum an ity of other p e o
ple— friends, family, o r strangers. They are n o t just a nam e or
a trait ("M y a u n t M a u d e never stops talking!" " T h a t homeless
person is filthy!") b ut are multidimensional, m ade up of a c o m
plex of factors, just as you are. They have m others, fathers, chil
dren, an d loved ones. It d o esn't m atter w hat their nationality is or
whether they claim to be your foe. They experience joy, love, fear,
anxieties, despair, an d sorrow exactly as you a n d I do. They were
children once, laughing and playing w ith their balls, their dolls,
their pets, their games, when they were trusting. I have my p a
tients visualize as children their enemies or people they hate or
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - — —
103
arc angry at. T h at's just a start. See them as young lovers, as p a r
ents, as people w ho have won and lost, w ho have experienced
birth and death, victory and tragedy Really see the details. Par
ticularize. By so d o ing you are not seeing them as a group but as
individuals who have experienced everything th a t you have expe
rienced. It is easy to hate groups because they d o n 't have individ
ual qualities. If you follow this exercise, you'll give up hate
because it is h ard er to hate fully rounded individuals and im pos
sible to hate souls. I had com passion for th a t Russian soldier, the
man I was supposed to fear. H e had a soul, I realized. His soul
was mine.
C om passion a n d e m p ath y aren't learned overnight; life's lessons

are not simple. A n o th e r factor m ust come into play as we ascend
toward im m ortality: patience.
C H A P T E R 6
Paul: Patience and

Understanding
i he Buddhists have an expression: " D o n 't push the river.

A It will travel at its ow n speed anyway."
For purposes of spiritual evolution, it helps to envision time
as a river, th o u g h we should measure it n o t chronologically, as we
d o now, but in lessons learned on our road to immortality. So
d o n 't push the river o f time. You're just going to splash a round
impotently; th at is, you can thrash against the current or flow
w ith it peacefully. Im patience robs us of joy, peace, and ha p p i
ness. We w ant w h at we w ant, and we w ant it now. N ow here is this
m ore evident th a n in twenty-first-century America. But that's not
how the universe is engineered. Things com e to us when we are
ready. Before we are b o rn , we look over the landscape of the life
to come, only to forget it after birth. We h u rry in the present,
w orrying only a b o u t fixing the now, but as adults in o u r present
lives we should recognize there is a right and a w ro n g time. For
example, why did C ath erine tu rn up in my life th a t year and not
two years earlier or later? A nd why, when I asked her a b o u t the fu
ture, did she say, " N o t now"?
After O nly Love Is Real, my book ab o u t soul mates, came
out, I received a letter from a w om an th at read, "Well, I met my
--- 94----
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - —
95
soul mate, but now I'm m arried. I have three children. He's m a r
ried an d has two children. W hy didn't we m eet when we were
teenagers?"
Because destiny had a different plan. T hey were supp o sed to
meet later. People com e into o u r lives at certain times for various
reasons having to d o w ith lessons to be learned. It is n o t a coinci
dence th a t they d id n 't m eet a t a much earlier age when they did
not have other co m m itm ents. I think the reason people meet later
is to learn ab o u t love in m any different ways a n d a b o u t how to
balance this with responsibility and com m itm ent. They'll meet
again in a different lifetime. They m ust be patient.
O ne w o m an p atien t c om m itted suicide in an earlier life be
cause her h usb an d , a sergeant in World W ar I, was listed as miss
ing in action an d she was sure he was dead. In fact, he h ad been
taken prisoner an d re tu rn ed to America after the war, only to dis
cover the fate o f his wife. In her life or the ones following, this
w om an will learn patience if she rem em bers the lesson of the
past one.
Friends of mine, high school sweethearts, w ent separate ways
into un h ap p y marriages. W hen they m et again forty years later,
they had an affair, divorced their present spouses, an d married. It
was as though n o tim e h ad elapsed. T he same feelings were there,
w ith the same intensity. I did regressions w ith b o th of them , and
they were together in p a st lives as well. This com ing together of
people late in life w h o h ad been together in p a st lives happens
a lot.
Psychological patience rather than physical patience is the
key. T im e as we measure it can go fast or slowly. Tom Brady, the
q ua rte rb ack for the N e w E ngland Patriots football team , thinks a
minute is m ore th a n en ough time in which to engineer the w in
ning score. W hen I am stuck in a traffic jam, it seems like an eter
nity. But if we internalize time as the endless river it is, then
im patience disappears. "I d o n 't w ant to die yet," a patient tells
me. "There are m an y m ore things I need to do." Yes, but he'll
have infinite time in which to do them.
................ B R I A N I.. W E I S S , M . D ,
Patiencc is related to u nderstanding because the more you u n

derstand a person o r a situation or an experience— or yourself—
the less likely it is th a t you'll have a knee-jerk reaction and do
som ething hurtful to yourself or others. Let's say your spouse
comes hom e an d yells at you for some m inor infraction— perhaps
you forgot to walk the dog o r buy the milk. T he im patient re
sponse is to yell back. But be patient! Understand! M aybe the
anger com ing at you has nothing to do w ith you but is the result
of a bad day at the office, an oncom ing cold, a m igraine, an al
lergy, o r even a bad m ood. As the spouse you are the safe person;
he or she can vent at you know ing th a t noth in g serious will h a p
pen even if you flare up in return. But if you are patient, you
might get at the cause of the anger and then dissipate it. If your
response is a patient one and you u nderstand th a t there is a h id
den reason behind the explosion, then it is no great trick restoring
harmony.
You'll need the ability to detach, to see from a distance, to
achieve a higher perspective to do so. As you'll learn in chapter
11, m editation a n d co n tem plation are the hand m a id en s of p a
tience, for they help you achieve distance. As you develop the abil
ity to be quiet, to be introspective, and to listen, patience
invariably develops. If nations were m ore patient, there would be
fewer w ars because there would be m ore time for diplomacy, for
dialogue, and, again, for understanding. N atio n s rarely strive for
patience, but people should. If you train yourself to be patient,
you will recognize its im portance when it arrives a n d make
progress on the spiritual p a th tow ard immortality.
Sometimes, however, you may have to w ait until you see the
future to fully recognize its power.
Paul had money, n o d o u b t ab o u t that. H e had m ade a fortune in

copper gutters for seaside residences, and he had also invested
wisely. But as he told me in o u r first session, his m oney was doing
him no good, an d he felt like a failure. His twenty-two-year-old
daughter, Alison, had leukemia, and her chances of recovery

were, as he put it, "slim to none." His m oney could pay for the
best doctors, the best drugs, and the best advice— but not for
miracles. H e was frequently depressed and saw his life as useless
despite his m o n eta ry success.
Usually I can take a patient's history in one session or less.
With Paul it to o k two, n o t only because the history was com pli
cated but because he was so reluctant to give it. H e was fifty, tall,
fit, silver-haired, an d silver-tongued. His blue eyes looked a t me
with the openness th a t one sees in people w ith noth in g to hide or
in con men. In Paul's case I suspected the latter. (It turned o u t he
was conning himself, n o t me.) His smile was b road, his teeth
white in a perfectly ta n n ed face, and his nails professionally m a n
icured. H e wore a white R alph Lauren sport shirt, tan slacks with
a knife-edge crease, an d enviable leather sandals.
"I'm n ot sure I should be here," he said as we shook hands
and I got my first hit of those eyes.
" M a n y people feel th a t way. Psychiatry can seem forbidding.
W ho wants to reveal his soul to a stranger? Besides, people think,
incorrectly, th a t there's a touch of the occult in w hat I do."
"O ccult. Exactly. A nd— forgive me if I'm rude— this business
of taking people into their past lives . . ."
"Weird," I agreed, smiling. "It took me years to believe th a t
some patients w eren't som ehow m aking up their stories despite
all evidence to the contrary. But I assure you th a t I have no occult
powers and th a t even if some of my patients were fantasizing,
they still got better."
H e seemed to accept this, for he nodded a n d sat dow n across
from me and talked a b o u t Alison.
"I'm afraid my wife, my other daughter, and my son— all
three of them together— are sabotaging her trea tm e n t," he said,
more distraught th a n angry
"In w hat way?"
"Alison is a vegetarian, but she needs m eat to keep her strong.
Instead, my family encourages her to take megavitamins and
98 - B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
minerals and — Jesus!— tom atoes and w heat germ. She's into
yoga an d m editation, too. I suppose that's all right— c an't h u rt
her— but they w an t me to join the party."
"T h ey 're simply taking a holistic approach," I said mildly.
"Well, I w a n t th em to join mine."
"W hich is?"
"Aggressive medicine. Radiation. Chem o. T h e works."
"Isn't she getting these?"
"Sure she is. M y insistence. I'm calling the shots. But to waste
her time w ith th a t oth er nonsense— to think it's going to cure
her— is insane. I asked her to stop it, but she w o n 't." H e lowered
his head to his h a n d s an d massaged his eyes. "She's disobeyed me
from the time she was a toddler."
" W h a t ab o u t your other kids? Were they disobedient, too?"
"N a h . G o o d as gold. Always were. M y wife, too. Always will
be."
I was developing quite an adm iration for Alison. H e r "dis
obedience" sounds like spunk, I thought. She's probably the only
one in the family w ho has stood up to him. M aybe he is so upset
because the others are taking her side for once.
"T here is a great debate ab o u t holistic medicine," I told him.
"G reat societies, such as the Chinese, p u t their faith in it. They
believe— "
"In acupuncture!" he practically shouted. "She's trying that,
too. A nd the kids— yes, and my wife, too— are letting it happen."
I believe th a t some forms of holistic medicine are effective,
particularly when used in conjunction w ith o rth o d o x medical
treatm ent. I said, "As long as she is getting the pro p er medical
treatm ent, why be uptight ab o u t it? H o p e, you know, is a factor in
recovery. If she thinks the acupuncture is helping, m aybe th a t is
value enough."
"I suppose so," he grumbled. H e left, obviously unsatisfied.
I wondered if he would return, but he was back for his
appo in tm e n t three days later, this time w ith a new com plaint: her
boyfriend.
S A M E SOIU., M A N Y BODIES ------99
"And you object?"

"I certainly do!"
"Why?"
"H e isn't good e n ough for her. N o n e of them are. H e w on't
stav for the long haul."
1 was beginning to see a pattern. " W h a t does she think of
you?"
"She loves me, I suppose."
"O nly suppose?"
H e th o u g h t for a while before answering. "It's funny. I feel
aw kw ard a ro u n d her. C a n 't tease her the way I can the other kids.
When I go to h ug her— o r maybe it's the oth er way aro u n d — I
seem to freeze."
"Yet you love her."
"M y G od, yes!"
"Have you told her?"
H e bowed his head. "I d o n 't seem to be able to find a way.
We're always squabbling. She says I pick on her, but all I'm trying
to do is m ake sure she's safe."
Keeping her u n d e r control seemed to me a p o o r way of show
ing love. "W h a t a b o u t her oth er boyfriends?" I asked.
"Hopeless."
"H o w so?"
" N o t sm a rt enough. O afs, really. All testosterone and
souped-up cars. O r nerds— to o sm art, no balls. Actually, Phil is
the best of them. H e did show up at the hospital the last time she
had to stay over. N o n e of the others w ould do that. T he last time
he visited, I told him n o t to come back."
"Was th a t the first time you said it?"
"To his face. B ut I've told Alison she c o u ld n 't see him
again."
I smiled. "But she was 'disobedient.' "
H e shrugged. T h e answer was obvious.
"D o n 't you th in k it w ould give her pleasure to go on seeing
him? After all, if she doesn't get better— "
100 ........... - - B R I A N I.. W E I S S , M . D .
He interrupted w ith a roar. "Stop right there! G o d d a m n it,

I'll make sure she gets better even if I have to die in her place."
After the two sessions of history taking and discussion, I was

eager to look deeper at Paul's relationship w ith Alison. Some
thing accounted for his overly protective behavior, both toward
her and toward himself. Perhaps the answer lay in a p ast life. H e
resisted at first, but finally, w ith his family's blessing and encour
agement, and because Alison was so ill, he agreed. It to o k longer
than usual to hypnotize him because of his active left brain and
his need to stay in control, but eventually he reached a deep level.
"It's 1918," he to ld me. "I'm in a n o rth e rn city, N e w York or
Boston. I'm twenty-three years old. I'm a very pro p er young man,
following my father's career as a banker, an d I'm in love, wildly in
love, w ith the w ro n g girl. She's a singer and dancer, a real stunner.
I've talked to her occasionally after the show, but I've never re
vealed my feelings. I k n o w she's— " H e paused, a look of in
credulity spreading over his face. "It's my d a u g h te r Alison!"
H e sat silently for a m om ent, remembering. T h en he said:
"I've talked to her, told her I love her, a n d — blessed day— she
loves me, too. C an you believe it? She loves me, too! I know my
parents w o n 't approve, but it doesn't matter. I'll defy them. She's
everything to me."
O nce m ore his expression changed. H e grew sad. "She died,"
he whispered. "D ied in the epidemic, and w ith her death, our
dream s died, too, an d I've lost all joy, all hope, all pleasure. There
will never be an o th e r love like ours."
I asked him to go slightly forw ard in th a t life. H e saw himself
as a dour, angry m an , old at forty when, blind d ru n k , he drove his
car off the road a n d died.
I brought him back, and we discussed the connection the past
life had to the present. Two patterns emerged. O n e involved m ag
ical thinking: In this life, if he didn't tell Alison he loved her, she
would be safe; she w o u ld n 't die as she had in 1918. T he second
was a co u nterphobic mechanism , the same impulse th a t makes

someone quit if he thinks he's about to be fired. In Paul's case it
m eant that if he kept an em otional distance from Alison, he
would be protected from pain, grief, and despair if he should lose
her. So he backed away from her, picked fights, criticized c o n
stantly, and interfered w ith her boyfriends. H e r current illness
m ade him relive the panic he had felt nearly a century earlier. He
knew, he said as he left my office, that as p a r t of her treatm ent he
would have to co n fro n t his fears and avow his love. Some p a rt of
him understood th a t the body-m ind connection, well k n ow n to
immunologists, had been validated.
Paul's fears were already eased slightly because he had lost
Alison before and h ad suffered for it. Both had died, yet b oth had
com e back to this life. H e was still distraught at the probability of
her death, but he allowed himself now to feel his love for her. H e
d idn't need to p rotect himself so severely, to the detrim ent of
both of them.
His first response to his impulse of unconditional love was to
call Phil and tell him he was free to visit Alison in the hospital or
at hom e as m uch as he w anted. Alison was thrilled, and Phil
could hardly believe Paul's change in attitude. As the young
lovers' relationship deepened, Paul became m ore a n d more wel
coming. H e realized th a t Alison's happiness was m ore im p o rta n t
than his protection of her.
Something w o n d ro u s was happening. As Phil's and Alison's
love grew, and as Paul was able to express his love by his actions,
Alison's im m une system w ent into high gear. Love becam e a vital
medicine in her fight against cancer.
O ne week later Paul returned for his second regression. This time
he was a nineteenth-century w om an, the wife of a fisherman, liv
ing on the coast of N e w E ngland. O nce again anxiety and dread
filled his life.
"H e's not com ing back this time."
102 ----------- B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
"W ho's n o t com ing back?"

"M y h usband. H e goes on these trips— sometimes they last
for m onths— an d I'm sure he w on't return."
"H e has taken these trips before?"
"Yes."
"And come back before?"
"Yes."
"T h en why n o t this time?"
"Because this time he's dead. I can feel it." H e took in great
gulps of air. " M y w o m en friends try to cheer me— they have fish
erm an h usbands, too— but they can't. I'm going m a d with
worry."
His fear was so palpable th a t I asked if he w anted to be
b rought back to the present. H e held up his h an d . "Wait. There's
news." H e began to wail. "T h e b o a t capsized. All aboard were
lost. I was right. H e's dead. M y darling is dead. T here is no life for
me now."
T he grieving N e w E ngland w om an quickly sank into a de
pression. She sto p p ed eating, couldn't sleep, and soon died of
heartbreak. H e r soul left her body, but it stayed watching for a
long time. T he w o m a n had died the week before her hu sband re
turn ed to the tow n. H e had been rescued w ith tw o of his mates,
an d they had spent their time slowly recuperating in the hom e of
a farm er's w idow until they were strong enough to make their
way back.
T he w o m an 's (Paul's) hu sb an d in th at life was Alison.
In the N e w E ngland wife's life review, a new them e emerged: p a

tience. She saw th a t if she had waited, n o t despaired— in effect,
n o t killed herself— she w ould have been reunited w ith her h us
band an d been happy. W hen I brought Paul back, he saw th a t p a
tience was a missing element in his other lives as well. The Paul
who had died in an au to m obile crash had actually found his love
S A M E S O U L , MAN"!' B O D I E S 13?
again— here, in this life, in his daughter. K nowledge of subse

quent lives m ight have stopped him from drinking, the cause of
the crash, and he m ight have had a fulfilled life then while waiting
for the return of his beloved. In this life he realized th a t if he had
not inserted himself into'Alison's life the way he did, if he had let
her be and allowed her to love freely, then her cancer m ight not
have been as overwhelming. She might have had m ore energy and
m ore will to fight it. Even now, he thought, it m ight n o t be too
late.
T h e following week's session began w ith a progress report.
Alison was feeling better. H e r doctors were encouraged. All the
different approaches— the standard treatm ent, the holistic a p
proach, Phil's presence, an d Paul's changed behavior— seemed to
be working. Paul to ld me he had hugged Alison the night before,
fully and wholeheartedly, and told her th at he loved her. She had
responded by hugging him back, saying she loved him, too, and
bursting into tears. "W h at's m ore," he said, smiling, "I even
hugged Phil. But I d id n 't tell him I loved him ." It was a huge m o
ment for him, an d he attributed it to the regressions. H e asked me
to lead him back again.
Several centuries ago in the ancient culture of India, Paul had
a lifetime as a lower caste girl. Alison was Paul's close friend in
th at life. T h o u g h they were n o t related, she was "as close or
closer than any sister." T h e tw o were dependent on each other for
emotional survival; they shared their thoughts and wishes, joy
and pain. Since they were at the bo tto m of the social ladder, their
lives were very hard , but they m anaged by helping each other
every day.
T hen, Paul told me bitterly, Alison fell in love. T he young
m an, w hom Paul recognized as his own wife (Alison's mother) in
this life, was of a higher caste; nevertheless, they had an affair.
Paul warned Alison of the dreadful consequences if they were
caught together. Alison said her "sister" was just jealous and
went around her village boasting of the young m an's love for her.
104 B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
The boy's family found out, and Alison was m urdered by his fa
ther for disgracing their caste. T he loss devastated Paul; he re
mained bitter, grieving, and angry for the rest of his/her short
life.
As he floated above his body in th a t p a st life, Paul could c o n
nect th a t life to his c u rre n t one and to the lives he rem em bered
from his first tw o regressions. T he recurrent p a tte rn of the tr a u
m atic loss o f love th r o u g h d eath had led to his cu rren t fears and
protective m echanism s. H e had also learned the value of p a
tience. In his In d ian life, too, he had sh u n n ed pleasure a n d joy
when they m ig h t have been his if he h a d k n o w n th a t Alison
w ould re tu rn n o t once but m any times. T h ere were o th e r lessons
as well: the d a n g e r of ru shing to jud g m en t, the folly of experi
encing events w ith o u t perspective, and the som etim es m o rta l
risks of losing con tro l. H e was learning to let go o f his fears of
d ea th an d loss. M o r e positively, he grasped the co ncept of the
suprem e value of love an d its healing effects. Love is an absolute,
he u n d e rsto o d , an d c a n n o t be dim inished by tim e o r distance. It
can be obscured by fear, but its brilliance is never really lessened.
Fear closes the m ind, love opens the h e a rt an d dissolves fear.
I w ondered aloud whether to progress Paul into the future,
but we held back for a long time. H e and I were b oth reluctant to
look ahead in his current life— he because he c ouldn't bear the
th ou g h t of finding o u t th a t Alison's cancer w ould eventually de
feat her, an d I because I was concerned th a t his anxiety over
Alison's illness w ould d istort his future memories. At last we de
cided th a t looking into a future life, as opposed to seeing ahead in
this one, held n o such risks. So in ou r last session together, that's
where we went— to a future life.
It was an unusual progression because Paul saw not a continuous

narrative but a series of three snapshots, like pictures in a slide
show. T he glimpses were vivid, however, and filled w ith strong
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES—
- 105
emotion. H e saw himself older in this lifetime, successful and ful

filled thanks to the fact th a t his daughter had been cured. H e saw
Alison alive and well at age sixty-seven in the future of her cur
rent lifetime. H e also saw himself reincarnating as Alison's
grandson, being received with love and joy into Alison's future
family. (When I asked him how far in the future this snapshot
was, he said, "Forty-five years." I was concerned th a t this m eant
Paul's death was im m in en t in his present life, but he had no p ro b
lems with the m ath. I was forgetting th at in this instance time is
past, present, and future in one.) Afterward we discussed his p ro
gression.
"D o n 't the episodes seem to you like w ish fulfillment?" I
asked.
" N o t at all. T h ey could be. N o w th at you bring it up, I can see
why you'd think so, but w hat I saw w asn't how my imagination
works. I've never h ad visions like these before. T hey seem very
real."
T h a t he saw himself as Alison's grandson gave credence to his
beliefs, though in my m ind the memories were a little to o "per
fect." Even the Alison-grandson relationship could be explained
by his intense desire to w in her love in the present. Nevertheless,
he believed the scenes were real, and th a t was all th a t mattered.
"M y next life w o u ld n 't have been possible if Alison h a d n 't
been healed," he said.
T h e statem ent b ro u g h t me up short. Alison was still very
sick— remissions such as hers can be devastatingly fleeting— and
I w ondered w h at w ould h appen to Paul if she died. Perhaps he
had truly learned patience, I reflected. Perhaps it would be
enough th a t he k n ew he w ould meet her again in a future life.
There was no reason to shake his equilibrium. H e was a different
man from the self-hating sm oothie who had first walked into my
office. Besides, m aybe w hat he saw was true.
"She might n o t have gotten better w ith o u t you," I told him.
H e was startled. " H o w do you mean?"
106 B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
"For one thing, you chose to allow Alison's boyfriend to visit

and left her free to fall in love. For another, you gave up your con
trol and allowed yourself to love her openly and fully. A m ong
other benefits, including the benefit to you, her im m une system's
response to th a t dual love may have been instrum ental in fighting
her cancer. I believe it was."
"Along with the medicine," he said.
"Along w ith the medicine. But the medicine h a d n 't worked
before you changed."
"And I changed th an k s to you."
It felt strange to hear him speak so humbly. "I just pointed the
way. T h e im p o rta n t th ing to realize is th a t you exercised the most
im p o rta n t of all h u m a n attributes: You used your free will."
Paul could have chosen to remain stu b b o rn and inflexible. H e
could also have chosen to decline the past life therapy and then
not have gained the u n derstanding and insights he obtained. If he
had been closed-minded, dictatorial, or im patient, Alison might
n o t have gone into remission. H e had instead chosen the path of
courage, the p a th of love.
Over the following m onths, w ith Phil and Paul joining the rest of
her family at her side, Alison's improvement led to a remission.
H e r cancer seemed to be gone, just as Paul had seen in his future
life. T h a t life had reassured him in the present. M aybe his o pti
mism and his certainty, along w ith his love, helped her get well.
Paul's story dem onstrates the essential role th a t patience
plays in o u r passage tow ard immortality. Inner peace is impossi
ble w ith o u t patience. W isdom requires patience. Spiritual growth
implies the m astery of patience. Patience allows the unfolding of
destiny to proceed at its ow n unhurried pace.
W hen we are im patient, we create misery for ourselves and
for others. We rush to rash judgm ents and act w ith o u t consider
ing the consequences of w hat we do. O u r choices are forced and
often incorrect, an d we are liable to pay a steep price.
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES- — 117
Paul could have avoided heartache and prem ature death in his
past lives if he had been m ore patient. It took him until this cen
tury, this time, to u n d erstan d th at his present life and all those to
come would be m ore h arm o n io u s and m ore fulfilled if he did not
try to push the river of time.
CHAPTER ~
Emily, Joyce, Roberta, and

Anne: Nonviolence
thirty-year-old woman named E mily, living in a previ
A ous life as p a rt o f a nom adic tribe in C entral America, was

killed in a m ud slide in th a t earlier life, the result of an e a rth
quake in 1634. H e r frantic h u sband tried desperately to save her,
but his efforts were futile. For her it was the end of a life of h a rd
ship. T h e tribe spent m o st of its time searching for water, and
Emily, w hen I regressed her to the time before her death, rem em
bered unending physical labor. T he violence of n ature was a
given in her life. She spent her days in co n stan t fear n o t only for
her own safety b u t for the safety of the seventy others in her tribe.
In this cu rren t life Emily had a terror of being caught in an
earthquake, trap p ed in an elevator, or im prisoned. At a w ork
shop she told me th a t her husband, her d aughter (who was her
sister in the earlier life— again, those who are vital to us often a p
pear in o u r past lives), and her present-day sister h a d been m e m
bers of the ancient tribe, and once again she feared for them as
for herself. T h e events of 9/11 traum atized her— no m ore severe
"ea rth q u a k e" could be imagined. She becam e very, very ill, barely
able to leave her hom e.
A nother w o m a n at th at w orkshop nam ed Joyce, listening to
108 — ■ -
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES -- — 109
her story, began to sob, and I asked her why she was so moved.
She had detailed, vivid dream s of 9/11, she said, only they oc
curred on the night of Septem ber 10. Since com ing to the w o rk
shop she had been draw n to Emily. She had never m et her but,
w ithout know ing why, had followed her for tw o days w ithout
speaking to her. N o w she knew why, and she also knew why she,
like Emily, had been afraid to leave her house. She was a success
ful w om an w ith a w orldwide public relations netw ork, but since
9/11 she had n o t been able to go to her b ranch offices outside-
New York, and her business was suffering. T h e tw o w om en e m
braced, finding solace in each other.
In Emily's case it was the violence of nature th a t caused a traum a

which persisted over m any centuries. In Joyce's the violence was
m an-m ade an d m ight rem ain with her in future lives unless psy
chotherapy eased her fear. T heir stories stayed w ith me, for I
abhor violence: To me it is one of the most terrible plagues of our
planet. If violence is na tu ral— a hurricane or an earthquake— we
must accept it an d u n d erstand th at it probably happens for a
reason. But violence caused by our own hands and wills, whether
toward other h u m a n s or against the planet itself, places us in
dividually and collectively in jeopardy. Anger m a nagem ent is a
start toward preventing it. As we saw in chapter 2, w ith o u t his re
gressions, G eorge m ight easily have injured one of his colleagues
or a family m em b er since some of violence's w orst effects can be
visited on the violent person's family, friends, and colleagues. I
have dozens of similar cases of people w ho were violent or suf
fered violence in p ast lives and had to experience the effects on
themselves and on others in later lives, including this one.
R oberta came to see me at the urging of her husband, Tom, a
thirty-eight-year-old ac countant w ho developed a successful
practice w orking freelance for small businesses. I had m et him at
a fund-raiser for M o u n t Sinai M edical Center. R oberta, six years
younger, was also successful, a vice president in the public rela
110 B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
tions d e p a rtm e n t of a m ajor airline. She cam e in early one bright

w inter m orning, Tom at her side.
H e r blond curly hair, sparkling in the office light, surrounded
an oval face and gave her a Little O rp h a n Annie look, the im pres
sion of youth offset by piercing wise blue eyes and a wide, sensu
ous m o u th delicately lipsticked in light red. She was slim, and her
hand was soft when it shook mine.
Tom had told me th a t they were having trouble conceiving,
and I presumed the psychological ramifications of th a t were w hat
had bro u g h t th em to me. I was wrong.
"Tom is going to leave me," she blurted as soon as he had left
the room and I h a d finished taking dow n the details of age, a d
dress, profession, and family. But when we m et at the fund-raiser,
Tom said th a t R oberta was his "reason for being," hardly the re
m ark of a m a n a b o u t to ditch his wife.
"W h a t m akes you th in k so?" I asked. " H a s he said anything?
Intim ated in any way th a t he's— "
" O h , no," she said quickly. "N o th in g like th a t." She paused,
gnawed at a nail, an d looked at me shyly. "I just know it."
"There's no objective event? It's an internal feeling?"
She shrugged. "You'd probably call it a fantasy, but it's so
real, it h au n ts me. I can 't sleep. It's all I think about."
"And when you talk to Tom ab o u t it?"
" H e tells m e I'm being silly. I stopped asking Tom because
he'd think I was still silly or even p a ran o id , and th a t would
p ro m p t him to leave me quicker."
This kind of circular thinking is c o m m o n in patients who
have lost som e gro u n d in g w ith reality. " T h e n how do you act
tow ard him?"
H e r eyes lo oked tow ard the floor. "M ostly I cling to him even
thou g h I d o n 't th in k he likes it. T h a t makes me m ad, so I push
him away. H e an d I b o th hate it th at I'm so dependent. H e says I
should tru st him , have confidence in him, in us. I know I should,
but I can't."
"W h at does Tom say when you tell him you can't?"
S A M E S O U L , M A N "!' B O D I E S ------ 13?
"N othing. H is silence is the worst." I could see her tremble,

though her voice remained strong. Obviously, she was feeling
deep emotion. "H e's a good man. W hen I'm happy, he's happy,
but when I'm sad, he gets sad too."
"And when you're angry and push him away?"
"I think he gets angry too, but he doesn't like to show it.
M ostly he tries to get me o u t of my m oods— jolly me out of them
like I'm some kind of invalid or em otional cripple."
"H e tells me you're having trouble conceiving," I said.
H e r expression grew sad. "Yes."
"You've seen a doctor?"
" O f course. H e co u ld find n o th in g w ro n g w ith either of us."
"W h at ab o u t in vitro fertilization?"
This was a safe topic. H e r voice grew steadier. "It's an option,
but we d o n 't w an t to d o it unless the d o c to r feels it's ou r only
choice. I'm sensitive to h o rm o n es of all kinds. Put me next to a
bee, and I'm in terro r of anaphylactic shock."
"W h at a b o u t adoption?"
"Again, an o p tio n , a last resort. I w ant his child."
"And he wants yours?"
"Absolutely."
"Your sex life is healthy?"
She blushed. "R obust."
"G o o d ." We were silent for a while. I m ust have been smiling
because those pen etratin g eyes caught mine, an d she was sud
denly angry.
"W hat's so funny?"
"You're b o th trying to have a baby. Your sex life is . . . robust.
He's given no h in t th a t he wants to leave you. I know for a fact
th at Tom says you're his reason for being. W hy n o t take him at
his word?"
"Because of the fear," she said gravely.
"Fear of what?"
" O f being ab a n d o n e d ." She began to cry. "I can't think of
anything worse."
1W B R I A N L. W E I S S , M ,l>,
Here was a classic argum ent for regression therapy. There was
nothing in R oberta's life th a t pointed to ab a n d o n m e n t by som e
one she loved, but her terror was so great th a t it seemed clear she
had been a b a n d o n ed at some previous time. She loved Tom
dearly, and he k new it. H e r behavior and fears m ade no sense in
the context of w h at I knew ab o u t their relationship. M aybe, I
told her, we could find the source of her fears in an o th er time, a n
oth er life.
"O h ," she said. "If we could, how marvelous!"
She was soon under, and it did n o t take long for us to find a
link.
"It's 849," she said w ith enorm ous sorrow, "the year I died. I
live in a nice house, one of the best in o u r village. I have a hus
band I love very m uch— he is my life— and I'm four m onths preg
n a n t with o u r first child. It's a difficult pregnancy. I'm often sick,
and it's hard for me to work. I'm only com fortable when I'm lying
dow n."
A look o f anguish crossed her face, and she raised her hands
protectively over her eyes. "We're in im m inent danger of attack.
There's an invading arm y at ou r gates. All the townspeople, men
and wom en, are arm ed against them , prepared to fight for the
tow n." Tears came. "I'm to o weak to fight. M y h u sband says I'm
to stay hom e an d th a t if he sees the battle is going badly, he'll
come back for m e and take me south to the village of his ances
tors. I beg him to take me now, but he says he m ust fight. It's his
duty."
"H o w do you feel a b o u t that?" I asked.
"Sad. Very sad. W h o 'll look after me?"
H e r anguish was evident. "D o you w ant to stop the regres
sion?"
"N o. To go on ."
Deeply hypnotized, she began to breathe heavily, and her
body tensed in her chair.
- 113
"He's gone," she told me. "I can hear the shouts and screams
of the battle. I pace the floor, waiting. I'm frightened, worried
about my u n b o rn baby. T h e d o o r bursts open. 'T h a n k G o d ,' I say,
only it isn't my h u sb an d , it's the invaders. T hey rape me. An in
vader slashes at me w ith a sword. Slashes again. T he sword
strikes my wom b. T h e baby dies. I fall. There's blood everywhere.
A nother slash, this at my th ro at." She gave a strangled cry. "I'm
dead."
W hen I b ro u g h t her back, she looked at me w ith horror. "M y
husband," she said. " H e was Tom. M y Tom. M y love. H e left me
there to die."
It was as th o u g h sunshine had left the room .
As we've seen in o th e r cases, present-life relatives of the patient

appear in past lives, b ut their relationship to the patient is often
changed. A d au g h te r can become a grandm other, a father a sister,
a brother, or a child. We learn from ou r relationships. People
came back together again and again to resolve issues and to learn
abou t love in all forms.
Sometimes, as in R oberta's case, the relationships are the
same. H e r h u sb an d , Tom , in this life was her hu sb a n d in the
ninth century as well, an d he ab andoned her— o r did he? I w o n
dered if it would be possible to regress T om into the same time
and place to find o u t w hat had happened to him th a t day. W hy
had he a b an d o n ed her? W h a t was his life like after the death of
his wife an d u n b o rn child? In the present he h a d accom panied
Roberta to several o f her sessions, waiting in the ou te r office for
her to finish, a n d occasionally the three of us w ould talk when
Roberta's time was alm o st over. N ow I called him in and got both
their permissions to regress Tom, though it was acknowledged
th at he would n o t becom e my patient. I had worked w ith couples
who had shared earlier lives, and now I was particularly anxious
to get Tom's version of things if I could. If R oberta knew he
had n 't aban d o n ed her then, perhaps her fear of his abandoning
114 ------------ B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
her now would diminish. Tom had a c o m m itm e n t o u t of town,

so an a p p o in tm e n t was m ade for several weeks later.
R oberta retu rn ed the following week for her next visit. She re
gressed effortlessly.
"It's Paris. Sum m ertim e. I'm young— no m ore than twenty-
five— and very pretty. All I w ant to do is have fun, but I can't. M y
g ra n d m o th e r lives with me. I recognize her. She's Tom ."
This was said w ith o u t surprise. A lthough w hat she saw was
detailed an d vivid, R oberta was n o t nearly as agitated by this re
gression as she was by the previous one.
"M y g ra n d m o th e r b ro ught me up since b oth my parents died
when I was a little girl, but now I have to take care of her because
she's sick an d frail. She's dem anding, too. D o this, do that. We
have n o money, so I have to shop, clean, cook, and change my
stinky g ra n d m o th er's clothes because she's always soiling her
self."
Finally, she spoke w ith some vehemence. "It isn't fair! I
sho u ld n 't have to d o this day after day. A girl's got to have some
pleasure in her life." She leaned toward me conspiratorially. "I'm
running away. I'm ru n n in g to my friend Alain's house. H e'll take
care of me, and he'll show me a good time."
She skipped forw ard in time, and it is unclear whether her
next m em ories immediately followed this absence from her
gran d m o th er's a p a rtm e n t or a later one.
"M y gran d m o th er's dead! While I was o u t drinking, going to
cabarets, dancing, m ak in g love, she just died. I found her body
when I cam e hom e. It looks like she starved to death 'cause she
was really skinny. N o n e of her neighbors heard her cry out, so it's
hard to tell when she died, but it couldn't have been too long ago.
She doesn't smell yet, least no t any m ore th a n she always has. It's
bad news, though. Leaves me in an awful pickle. I'm about to
have a baby, an d I've got no money, n o t a centime. I'm n o t even
sure who the father is. Alain said he'd give m e m oney if the baby's
his, but I h a d to prove it. N o w how am I going to d o th a t until
after the baby's born?"
It d idn't m atter in the end. Roberta saw herself die in child

birth, and her soul floated o u t of her body. She watched long
enough to m ake sure the baby lived, no m atter w ho the father
was. In her life reviewr the overwhelming em otion was guilt.
"I loved my g ran d m o ther," she said, "n o t just because she
raised me, but because she was a good w o m a n w ho w anted only
the best for me. But I was to o young, to o selfish. I p u t my own
needs for freedom an d love ahead of her far greater ones. At the
very least I could have balanced them , but I ended up abandoning
her and— " She sto p p ed abruptly.
"You see the connection," I said, n o t p ro m p tin g her but
knowing she h a d indeed related the tw o regressions.
" O f course! I ab a n d o n ed her because m y h u sband ab a n
doned me a th o u s a n d years earlier. In Paris she was Tom , my hus
band, who left me to die alone. It was an act of revenge!"
A third regression, which to o k place a week later, showed us a dif

ferent facet of the sam e them e of violence an d abandonm ent.
This time she was a Pakistani girl living in a small w ooden house
some five h u n d red years ago. H e r m other h ad died when she was
eleven, and as in Paris, the burden of cooking, cleaning, and other
tedious chores fell o n her, though in this life she h a d a father and
brother w ho m ight have helped her.
"T hey beat m e," she said. "W henever I did something
w rong— if I d id n 't w ash their clothes in tim e or if they didn't like
the food I served— they'd scream at me and hit me, one or the
other of them , a n d som etimes b oth of th em at once."
"W hy d id n 't you leave them?" I asked. "R un away?"
"I needed th em for food and shelter." She shivered. "Worse, I
was afraid of w h at my life w ould be if I w ent away."
"Anything else?"
"I— I loved th em ."
H e r answer surprised me. "Really? Why?"
"Because they c o u ld n 't help w hat they did. After all, our
116 ------------ B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
m oth er ab an d o n ed them by dying. Two of ou r other siblings died

before she did. It was a bleak time, a dark time. There was no law.
They were the ones who had to bring hom e food, which m eant
th a t every day there was the possibility of violence, the chance
they'd be killed. T h e illness th at struck ou r m oth e r could have
felled any one of us. They had no control over w hat would h a p
pen, no control over nature, over other men, over fate." She shook
her head. "To be a m a n in th at time, to have no money and no
hope— th a t was awful."
"So it was because of them , n o t in spite of them , th a t you
chose to stay," I said.
It was an ex p lan atio n she had n o t th o u g h t of, but I was sure
she would have com e to it herself. "Yes."
"W h at hap p en ed next?"
"T hey sto p p ed beating me. O ne day they just plain stopped.
M y father died soon after, but my brother stayed and took me
into his h ousehold when he married. Eventually, I found a m an
who loved me, an d we moved away. H e was a good m an, and we
led a n o rm a l life for th a t time and place."
"You died happy?"
She sighed. "I died content."
In o u r present-day review she realized th a t all three regres
sions— a n d particularly the first— explained why she was so
afraid th a t T om w ould leave her in his life, but she knew it with
her brain, n o t her h ea rt, and she rem ained uneasy.
"I'm seeing Tom tom orrow ," I said. "M aybe he can help."
H e arrived apprehensively. "I'm doing this for R oberta," he said,

"to find o u t a b o u t her, n o t about me."
To prevent d isto rtio n I had instructed R oberta no t to tell Tom
any details of her ow n p ast life recollections. I prom ised him th a t
he would have to undergo only one session unless he chose to
come back.
" N o t a chance," he said with the wariness of the mystical
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES - - — 117
that was co m m o n to accountants, lawyers, and doctors whose

analytical minds beg for precise explanation. I was mildly sur
prised, therefore, when he reached a deeply relaxed level within a
few minutes.
"I'm going to lead you to a past life when you and Roberta
were together," I told him, rem em bering Elizabeth and Pedro
from my b o o k O n ly Love Is Real who also rem em bered sharing
past lives. T h ro u g h them I had discovered the fact of soul mates
coming together m ultiple times and had seen the same p h e n o m e
non in other patients.
Almost imm ediately his back arched as th o u g h som eone or
som ething had hit him. "I've got to get out of here!" he said des
perately.
"W here are you?"
"In a battle. W e're surrounded, outflanked. M y p o o r wife!
I've left her alone, an d I've prom ised— " H is eyes were closed, but
he raised his arm s as th o u gh wielding an axe or a sword. "I'll cut
my way out! She needs me." With a cry he b rought his arms
down; then the muscle tension vanished, and his h ands lay limply
in his lap. "Too late," he whispered. "I'll never see my wife again,
never know my child." His last feelings were of guilt and sadness.
When I b rought him back to the present, he told me he would
never leave R oberta again.
When Roberta cam e for her next session, she was relaxed and
smiling; the sunshine had returned. Obviously, she and Tom had
spent som e tim e expressing their experiences in the ninth century.
"I now k n o w why he d id n 't come back to rescue me," she
said. "H e ab a n d o n ed me, true, but n o t because he wanted to, not
because I w asn't in his dying thoughts." She laughed. "Well, he's
too old now to fight for his country, so I guess I'm safe in this life.
With your help, Dr. Weiss, it's clear why I was so afraid he'd leave
me, and it's clear th a t when he says he loves me, he means it. Peo
ple in love d o n 't go in much for aban d o n m en t, do they?"
IIS ..............- B R I A N L. W L I S S , M . D .
R oberta was able to let go of her fear of a b a n d o n m e n t, her

insecurities, an d her dou bts about Tom. She realized th a t vio
lence was n o t necessarily a p a rt of every life and th a t she was free
to choose love instead of fear. This choice was a core them e or
p attern in m any of her subsequent regressions, and she saw it in
the young Pakistani girl who elected to love her father and
brother despite their violent natures rather th an hate or fear
them.
There was one rem aining obstacle for R oberta and Tom:
their infertility. T h e loss of her child in the ninth century might
explain it, an d so m ight her death during childbirth in nine
teenth-century France. But these events had already taken place,
she u n d ersto o d , an d as with the issue of a b an d o n m en t, might
very well n o t h a p p en again in this life or future ones.
I decided to try to progress Roberta into the ne ar future so she
could fully u n d erstan d this concept. As always, she quickly
reached a peaceful state an d was soon observing the course of her
life from a higher perspective. "I see tw o possible life paths," she
said, "one w ith children and the other w ith o u t."
"S tart with 'w ith o u t.' "
"T h e one w ith o u t is dark and narrow, barren. I'm afraid of
everything, fro m insects and snakes to going o u t of doors. Be
cause we c an 't have children, Tom has ab a n d o n e d me, and th a t
adds to my fears. N o o ther m an will choose me, and I'm too
weak an d fearful to exist on my ow n." She shuddered. "It's
awful."
"But w ith children?" I prom pted.
"T h e world is sunny and wide. T om is w ith me, just as he
promised. I am happy, fulfilled."
Progressing to this happy life, she was able to completely let
go of the fears she had carried over from so m any lifetimes: the
loss of loved ones an d her ow n death, ab an d o n m e n t, and be
trayal. As she was m ak in g these connections, her face took on a
radiance.
S A M E S O U L , M A N "!' B O D I E S ---------- 13?
"W here are you?" I asked.

"I'm up very high, higher than the clouds. I'm floating. Float
ing and watching. It's beautiful here. T he air is clear. I can see for
miles."
"Are you alone?"
"Yes. Wait— no! Two girls, angelic children, m y children, are
coming to greet me. I can feel their love, feel their joy. O h , and I
love them and I'm joyful!" She paused, w atching her future soul.
"I recognize them . O n e is my grandm other, the w om an I loved
most in the world. She died when I was nine. T h e other is my
m other— n o t my m o th e r today but the m o th er of the Pakistani
girl I was in a p ast life five hundred years ago. T h ey 're hugging me
and I'm hugging th em , an d I will be w ith th em always."
I have no way of validating Roberta's vision, but I report it ac
curately It is her experience, and she really believed this is what
would come to pass. It is possible th at R o berta and Tom will not
be able to conceive an d the notion of any children at all is a fan
tasy— th o u g h R o b erta and Tom could, of course, ad o p t children.
W hat is im p o rta n t is th a t R oberta has full confidence th a t even
tually she will be united w ith her children, and because of this she
is m ore confident of herself and of her ability to love.
She has m ad e her way from a time of violence to a time of
peace; she has m ad e progress tow ard the po in t "above the
clouds."
R oberta's story dem onstrates the h a rm th a t violence
causes— n o t just im m ediately but for future generations, and not
just for the victim b ut for the perpetrator. T h o se w ho are violent
or w ho suffer violence may carry their fears a n d atte n d a n t nega
tive em otions a h ead to many, m any future lifetimes— until they,
like Roberta, find love.
Anne's story presents a fascinating contrast to R oberta's, for hers

started in the future.
120 B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
Two days before she cam e to see me, she awoke from a
d ream dren ch ed in sweat. It was a n o th e r of tho se weird recur
rent dre a m s she h a d been having; she w oke up sw eating only if
the d re a m h a d deep m eaning. T he A n n e w h o becam e the f u
ture A n n e was d e te r m in e d by her choices, she heard a voice
saying, th o u g h she co u ld n o t see the m essenger a n d did n o t
k n o w if it was m ale o r female. S o m eone very wise was giving
her the m essage, A nne told me. It seem ed to k n o w already
w h a t her choices w o u ld be, b u t she h ad n o idea w h a t choices it
was ta lk in g a b o u t. All her life she h ad acted impulsively and
often arbitrarily.
Anne, twenty-four, stocky but n o t fat, looking like the be
spectacled girl who plays the star's best friend in teenage movies,
was a g rad uate student studying architecture up north. H e r goal
was to design innovative housing complexes, incorporating envi
ronm ental concerns and allowing the rich and p o o r to live to
gether. H ers was a vision of people living in h a rm o n y in a
beautiful setting.
T h e voice k n ew of her plan. In a dream she had after we had
started w orking together, it showed her a future where Anne had
already designed her project. (It was like a novelist wanting to
write a novel a n d finding o u t from a messenger th a t he had al
ready w ritten it in the future.) Your jo b is to connect to that fu
ture where you've developed your plan, n o t the one where you
have not, the voice told her. She did n o t k n o w th a t I h ad started
progressing patients into the future; she was curious about the
meaning o f the dream in the present.
She told me an im pedim ent to fulfilling her plan lay in her
fear of the limelight. If som eone praised her w ork, she would get
anxious. Usually, she would subm it her draw ings anonymously,
even th o u g h her professors knew she was the artist. T he prospect
of w inning an aw ard or achieving general recognition filled her
with dread. Public success, she knew, w ould precipitate a panic
attack.
- 121
H er history indicated no explanation for these reactions in

her current life. I was intrigued by her dream s, though, and sug
gested we look into her future first for m ore inform ation or clari
fication. She agreed. W hile she was in a relaxed trance state, I led
her ahead in tim e to discover w hat w ould h appen to the housing
project.
She watched several future scenarios unfold. In one, there was
no project at all. She worked at an architectural firm, but at a
mid-level position, drafting the ideas of others. In a second, a
housing project was complete, and it inco rp o rate d only some of
her ideas. It was imperfect, n o t w hat she h a d envisioned. She
could see the plaq u e in the m ain lobby. H e r nam e was no t listed.
The third scenario— triumph! T he com plex was entirely her
design. H e r n am e was first on the architectural drawings and on
the plaque. Yet w hen she reported it, she did n o t seem happy,
(There were several oth er possible scenarios as well, but n o t as
distinct as these three.)
"It's the fear," she said when I b rought her back. "T h e fear of
recognition, the fear of success. I realize I can go any of the ways,
but the third seems the m ost terrifying. I d o n 't w a n t m y nam e on
that p la q u e."
In fact, the plaq u e was no t a sign of ego; it was a symbol rep
resenting the absence of fears and of her panic attacks. H e r name
would n o t go o n it as long as she was afraid. I knew we would
have to look into her past for the healing to take place.
In her first regression A nne was a boy in an ancient horse-riding

culture of central Asia. T h e chief of her nom ad ic village had a
son who was tw o years older th a n A nne but did n o t possess
Anne's skill at h o rseback riding, at archery, or w ith a saber. "H e
doesn't like m e," A nne rep orted simply. T h e other boy was being
groom ed to be his father's successor, and it infuriated the old
m an to see his son continually bested. A nne was oblivious to the
BRIAN I.. W E I S S , M . l ) .
effects of her success, yet m ore and m ore the chieftain's son was
hum iliated by Anne's victories.
"T here was a riding contest for all the young m en in the vil
lage," Anne said. "It was one I determ ined to win, and I did. The
entire town, w om en and men, feted me for my achievement. I
dran k to o much an d lay dow n in a field outside the village to
sleep. T h e chieftain's son snuck up silently and slit my throat. I
did not die quickly. I watched my wine-red blood flow out."
In o u r discussion after I led her back, A nne told me she had
n o t begun to apprehend the m ortal danger her successes created.
" O f course!" she exclaimed. "Sitting here w ith you now it's easy
to link o u tw ard success w ith great physical ha rm . N o w onder
I'm afraid."
She could see the p attern of success creating danger in a
kaleidoscopic string o f images of p ast lives during her next re
gression. In one she was a talented musician, a m an ruined by his
rival who stole Anne's music and presented it as his own. In a n
oth er she was a girl in a N e a r Eastern kin g d o m some two th o u
sand years ago. Upper-class boys of her age were taught arcane
secrets an d rituals forbidden to girls, but A nne spied on the re
stricted classes a n d learned w hat they did. O n e day, being ta unted
by the boys, she blurted out one of the secrets. "You see," she
said, "I kn o w just as m uch as you do." She paid for her arrogance
w ith her life. She was reported, jailed, and soon killed because
death was the pu n ish m e n t for breaking the taboo.
As we processed these experiences, Anne was able to pinpoint
the equations. Success m eant violence. Self-exposure m e an t p u n
ishment. Pride m ea n t death. Gradually, w ith m ore therapy, she
was able to realize th a t her panic at being in the limelight was a
consequence of p ast life experiences, n o t som ething she had to
fear in her present o r future lives. With difficulty, for her terror
went deep, she was able to relinquish her fears. She began to sign
her class drawings, and she built a scale model of her building
complex, w in n in g a prize for " M o st Innovative Design." She
SAMfc S O U L , M A N Y BODl fc S 123
could not go so far as to give an acceptance speech, she adm itted,

but the prize, a silver plaque, stands on her mantel.
\X'e b o th have an idea of the futures th at A nne will find herself
in. Indeed, the A n n e w h o will becom e the future A n n e will be d e
termined by her choices. She no longer sweats when the M aster
comes back to rem ind her.
c: h a f t e r s
Bruce:
Relationships
\ V / hen we are in human form , even th o u g h ou r ultimate

V V g o a l is to merge with the spirit, the one soul, interaction
with others physically, emotionally, and spiritually lies at the core
of o u r life. H o w we handle this plays a large p a r t in determ ining
ou r future.
A w o m an I kn o w who spent her adult life in an ashram was a
spiritual person, but she com plained to m e th a t she couldn't
m editate a t all. In one of my own m editations I u nderstood why.
She needed to go o u t into the world, to be in m any relationships,
to experience loss an d grief, joy and love. For all her spirituality,
she had vital lessons to learn.
We all have m an y different types of relationships: one-
on-one; with o u r families and loved ones; w ith the people we
w ork w ith— bosses, colleagues, and other employees; with ou r
friends; an d w ith teachers and students. Across ou r m any lives
their bodies may change and the relationships w ith them may
change, b ut we are still learning the lesson of the im portance of
relationships, because we come aro u n d again and again with the
same soul.
M aybe your m o th e r has been pushing your buttons for m any
124
S A M E S O U L , M A N "!' B O D I E S --------------- 13?
lifetimes. M aybe, in different lifetimes, you've been her mother,

and maybe you've been in other relationships with her th a t are
not m o th er and child. Eventually, we m ust heal all o u r relation
ships, and we m ust use all o ur skills to do this, especially empa-
thv, compassion, nonviolence, and love. C o m m u n ica tio n is the
kev to every relationship. Love and openness are vital to the
process, but so is safety, for if it's n o t safe to com m unicate, you
won't.
H o w do you m ake the environm ent for co m m unication safe?
Bv know ing first of all th a t there are m any ways of com m u n ic a t
ing— words, tho u g h ts, body language, expression in the eyes and
face, touch— an d th a t each m ust be attended to. You should also
understand th a t the soul w ith w hom you have a relationship may
have been im p o rta n t to you in the past during m any lifetimes and
over m any centuries, and may be im p o rta n t in future centuries as
well.
A recent patient of mine was horrified to think th a t a co-
dependent relationship she had w ith an abusive m an, one she had
just m anaged to escape, was not over; she realized th a t the m an
might return to her in a future life. "H o w can I prevent it?" she
asked. "I d o n 't w a n t him back."
T h e answer is to make sure there are no h ooks in you th a t will
pull him back— no anger, no violence, noth in g negative at all. If
you can leave a relationship w ith love, empathy, and compassion,
w ithout any th o u g h ts of revenge, hatred, or fear, th a t is how you
let go.
You can choose to no longer have a relatio nship w ith th a t
person or p ersons. You can interact only w ith tho se you feel a
kinship to, only w ith those w hom , in its b ro ad est definition, you
love. In fu tu re lives you will be together w ith m a n y of your loved
ones, your soul mates, because you are fu n c tio n in g as a family of
souls. O th e rs will have to catch up, to learn the lessons you have
m astered, before they, too, can join your c o m m u n ity of souls.
126 BRIAN L. W E I S S , M . D.
O n e of the m o st moving examples of relationships in action in

volved Bruce who came to me last year in terrible shape. H e was
suffering, he told me, from sym ptom s of chronic anxiety: sleep
lessness, h e a rt palpitations, sudden rages, an d occasional alco
holic binges. H e was a nondescript m an w ith wet eyes, a wet
handshake, an d closely cropped brow n hair th a t hid incipient
baldness. H is speech retained cadences of the M idw est— he was
from M ilwaukee— but he had lived in M iam i for tw o years with
Frank, a p ro d u cer fifteen years his senior (Bruce was thirty-five)
who was connected w ith one of o ur regional theaters. Frank had
once had a blazing career, but a series of flops had reduced his
reputation an d his incom e, forcing him to move from a m ansion
in Los Angeles to a hum ble house in C oral Gables. It changed
him from a witty, contented m an to a sour soul w ho to o k much
of his depression o u t o n Bruce th rough sarcasm and public h u
miliation. O f late they had taken to fighting w ith each other both
privately an d publicly, th o ugh neither w anted to end the relation
ship.
Bruce was a costum e designer. T h e tw o had m et when Frank
hired him for a p roduction. They had entered a physical relation
ship quickly. Both m en preferred to keep it clandestine and so
lived a p a r t in Los Angeles, sharing lodging only w hen they moved
to M iam i.
W hen I asked Bruce why he stayed since Frank had become
so difficult, he merely shrugged and said, "W ith it all, I love
him ."
"Yes, but moving o u t doesn't m ean you'd have to stop seeing
each other. It m ight loosen Frank's h old on you," I said. "And it
m ight ease som e of your anxiety. H o w does he hum iliate you?"
"By calling me a faggot or his mistress in front of ou r friends
and by m akin g m e d o things I d o n 't like— sexual things— in p ri
vate."
"You d o n 't fight back?"
"Sometimes. M o re these last few months. And the anger
SAME SOUL, M AN Y B O D I E S - 731—
-
comes out in oth er ways, too. But m ost of the time I keep it in
side, hidden. Particularly in bed."
"You say it comes o u t in other ways— when you drink, for in
stance? Inappropriately, I presume."
"I get m ad at bartenders and whores."
"M ale whores?"
" O f course." A slight shudder showed w hat he th o u g h t of the
idea of sleeping w ith women.
"D o you frequent th em often?"
"N o. From tim e to time."
"Why?"
"W hen I get tired of Frank hurting me and w ant to h u rt
someone back."
"Physically h u rt them ?"
A n o th er shudder. "N o. I m ake them d o som e of the things
I'm forced to d o w ith Frank."
A strange kind of revenge, I thought. "C o u ld you give them
up?" I asked. "Redirect your anger tow ard the person who p ro
voked it?"
H e was quiet for a m om ent. T h e n he said, "I'm n o t sure I
could show Frank the real depth of my anger. It's to o dangerous.
But I've given up the whores."
"It's a start," I said. "G o o d for you."
His wet eyes overflowed, and he bowed his head. "N o , bad
for me."
"Why? It seems— "
H e stopped me. "I have AIDS. I d o n 't w ant to infect anyone
w ith it."
His overall health h a d been declining for some m onths, he
told me. H e h a d a gastric ulcer, and the b irth m a rk on his a b
dom en had recently an d inexplicably begun to bleed. Panicked,
he had it biopsied, but no cancer was found and he was briefly re
lieved. Still, the large scar th at was left at the site would from time
to time tu rn beet red and ooze a drop or tw o of blood. This led
128 - - -------- B R I A N 1.. W h l S S , M . I ) .
him to his internist, who diagnosed AIDS. " M o re a confirmation

of my fears th a n a diagnosis," he said. Tests were taken. T he di
agnosis was verified tw o weeks ago. Because of it, he made an a p
p o in tm e n t with me.
I could help him w ith his anxiety and his relationship with
Frank, I said, but I could n o t cure him of the disease, though
"cocktails" were now in wide use th a t would slow dow n its
progress a n d ad d years to his life.
His expression was profoundly sad. "E xtra years are no good
unless I can get my life together."
"T h en let me ask: D o your parents know you're hom o se x
ual?"
"T h ey d o now. I kept it from them as long as I could— I even
m ade up a California girlfriend I'd write them ab o u t— but when
Frank an d I moved here and started living together, they found
out."
"T h eir reaction?"
"Shock. Denial. Believe it or not: 'W asn't there some medi
cine I could take?' I think they're m ore concerned ab o u t their
friends kno w in g th a n anything else. After all, it's the Midwest,
and they're a b o u t a century behind the rest of the country." H e
put his h an d to his forehead in a theatrical gesture. " 'T h e shame
of it!' "
I laughed despite myself.
"T h ey 're good people, loving people— just ignorant on this
subject," he w ent on. "W hen I go hom e to visit, they greet me
with love an d respect. It's my brother who's the problem ."
"Your brother?"
"I guess I forgot to mention him. Yes, Ben's a M ilwaukee big
shot. Senior vice president at Aetna. Lots of money, lots of
friends, lots of clout. T h e Republicans have dangled the word
congressman before his eyes, and he's been salivating after it like
a dog at the track."
"And a gay b rother— ?"
SAME SOUL, M A N Y B O D I E S 931—
-
H e shrugged. "G ood-bye W ashington. H e came to see me

abou t a year ago an d actually asked me to change my name. I told
him to go fuck himself. H e persisted: i t m ight be good if you dis
appeared for a while. At least d o n 't tell anyb ody you're my
brother.' Well, th a t got me. H ow dare he! I'm just as good as he
is— better— even th o u g h my lover's a m an. I w ent after him. M y
last sight of him was his sorry ass running dow n Coral Way."
If this was one o f his sudden rages, it seemed to me justified. I
told him so.
"True, but like when I'm angry at Frank, when I think of
Ben's attitude, I explode— wherever I am and against whomever
I'm with. Ben is just a half-assed, greedy, glorified insurance sales
man. I pity him, an d it's ridiculous th a t I w ant to kill him. I am
the better m an , an d better m en d o n 't hold a grudge— or a dozen
of them ."
His rages did seem too violent to be explained solely by the
circumstances of his life. And while his anxiety was natural,
given the diagnosis of AIDS, I wondered if it was always so severe
that, like now, it affected his life.
"Yes," he answered when I asked a b o u t it. "Even in school
when I had every reason to be happy— good student, loving p a r
ents, th a t so rt of th in g — I always felt a sense of dread. N o w th a t
I have som ething real to dread, it has gotten worse, but n o t th a t
much worse."
"M ay b e it com es from som ething th a t happened in your
past," I said.
"M y childhood? N o. As I just told you, it was extremely n o r
mal."
" N o t your childhood," I said, "your distant past."
H e leaned forw ard. "Explain."
I did explain, an d he agreed to a regression. Surprisingly, because

I th ou g h t Bruce w ould be leery of hypnosis, no t wanting to allow
1 W B R I A N L. W E I S S , M ,l>,
himself to becom e to o vulnerable, he could go under m ore deeply

than all but a few of my patients, and w hat he remembered was
vivid.
"I am in ancient Egypt. It is during the reign of the great
Pharaoh w hose a m bition is to build temples and palaces p ro
claiming his m ight and his magnificence. T here have been te m
ples built before, but these are to be grander th a n anything ever
attem pted. I am an engineer, and the P h arao h has chosen me to
w ork on tw o projects: the creation of a sanctuary and the erec
tion of connecting colonnades.
"I have actually met w ith the P harao h himself; it was there he
described his plans. It is of course an incalculable h o n o r to be se
lected, an d if I succeed, anything of my asking shall be mine for
the rest of my life. W hen I told him I would need five hundred la
borers an d slaves, he offered a thousand. N o expense is to be
spared, n o d eath in service of the ultim ate goal regretted. The
buildings are to sanctify this supreme divinity and m ust reflect his
supremacy.
"Still, the P h a rao h has issued stringent com m ands. The sanc
tu a ry is to be com pleted in seven years, the colonnades three
years later. O nly th e finest marble can be used, only the strongest
stones. We are to m ake sure th a t when it is com pleted, the result
will proclaim his glory for all eternity.
"T h e task is difficult. There are the practical problems of
tra n sp o rtin g the stones an d the marble, to say nothing of having
adequate w ater o n han d , and w ood for the rails on which to raise
the stones. T h e weather, even in the winter, is blazing hot. Sand-
and w in d sto rm s are persistent hazards. Architects and engineers
of equal talent, o r so the Pharaoh believes, will be designing and
building o th e r temples, other colonnades. We will no d o u b t be in
com petition w ith one an o ther for w hat necessarily m ust be lim
ited supplies, even given the Pharaoh's wealth.
"And there is one m ore impedim ent. T h e Pharaoh has a
cousin. I've m et the m an, a meddler, a sycophant, an egomaniac
with no talent and less taste. H e is the overseer of the entire proj-
S A M E S O U L , M A N "!' B O D I E S --------- 13?
cct. I and all the o th e r architects and engineers are to obey him.
His word is the Pharao h 's word and thus is law. I am frightened of
him. H e could wreck everything."
Indeed, Bruce paled as he spoke of the overseer. T he m an
continued to exert his power even in the stillness of my office. I
was struck by the formality of Bruce's language, quite different
from the colloquial speech he used ordinarily. W hen I later asked
him if he had ever been to Egypt, he assured me he h adn't. His-
torv and travel to historic sites did n o t appeal to him.
I led him forw ard in this past life.
"M y worries are confirmed," Bruce continued. "H e meddles
in everything. H e seems to dislike me in particular. Perhaps he
can sense my aversion to him, though I forbear to express it. At
any rate he is at my side nearly every day, offering ludicrous sug
gestions, c o u n te rm a n d in g my orders, com plaining th a t my c om
rades and I are w orking to o slowly, although it is he who stands in
the way of progress. Given the time strictures laid dow n by the
Pharaoh, this increases the pressure on me to a po in t where I am
sure I will explode. Every day means a battle w ith myself to stay
calm in the face of d em an ds and his tau n ts when I can't satisfy
them.
"About a year after w ork started, the scoundrel insists th a t
the sanctuary be placed next to a different temple rather th a n by
the foremost temple. W hen I rem ind him th a t this is directly c o n
trary to the Pharao h 's orders, he calls me a fool in front of my
colleagues a n d starts to walk off.
"W h at I fear comes to pass: I explode. I tell him he's the fool,
that he's no th in g b u t a n idiot and looks the p a rt, th a t he is as stu
pid as the stones s u rro u n d ing him. 'Let's take this m atter to the
Pharaoh,' I say. 'H e will decide who should have final authority.'
"T h e Pharao h 's cousin retaliates in the w orst way possible.
Rather th an go w ith me to the palace, he enlists a rival of mine,
another engineer, to poison the wine I d rink at dinner. I fall
sick immediately; the pain is excruciating, and I am put to bed.
T h a t night one of the guards sneaks into my tent and stabs me
W
1 B R I A N L. W E I S S , M , l >,
in the stom ach. I die instantly. M y last sight is of the Pharaoh's

wretched cousin standing outside my tent, laughing."
1 bro u g h t him back; he was visibly shaken. "C an you express
w hat you're feeling?" 1 asked.
"T h e . . . the place on my stom ach where I was stabbed," he
stam m ered. "It's the same place where I have the scar tissue from
the biopsy, the w ou n d th a t bleeds from time to time for no a p p a r
ent reason."
"Anything else?"
H e was in an ecstasy of revelation. "T h e overseer, the m an
who to rm en ted me in Egypt during th a t past life, he's my brother
in this one."
Anger, as he had adm itted, was a negative factor in his present

life. It was at its m ost virulent when he was confronting or was
confronted by his brother Ben who, after all, had asked Bruce to
give up his identity, to become invisible.
I was as anxious as he to revisit an o th er past life. Again, it
was in ancient Egypt, at another time.
"I'm a priest, a healer, one of a very few employed by the rich
and powerful. O u r medicine is arcane, n o t the usual herbs and lo
tions th a t lay docto rs use. M y healing m ethod involves the use of
w hat we priests call energy rods. W hen the rods are turned in p re
cisely the right way, they emit healing sound vibrations and light
frequencies. T h eir use is n o t ran d o m . There is a prescribed se
quence of light an d sound, an intricate order and p attern to how
the rods are aim ed at po rtions of the body. T he a rt is secret. It in
volves energy an d light and their accum ulation, storage, and
transfer."
"W here do you practice this medicine?" I asked.
His eyes glittered. "In secret cham bers w ithin the healing
temples. O nly a few priests know of their location. Even those
who do menial work in the temples do no t know of them , so m as
terfully are they hidden."
S A M E S O U L , MAN"!' B O D I E S ....... 13?
"And you are able to work wonders?"

"Exactly! We have cured m any diseases." He leaned forward.
"And we are able to regenerate organs and limbs lost in battle."
"T h ro u g h the use of the rods?"
"T h e rods. Yes."
"Amazing."
I had read a b o u t healing techniques and medicine in ancient
cultures, and while I had never read ab o u t the rods th at Bruce
described, I did know th a t Egyptian doctors claimed they could
regenerate limbs and organs, and th at they had apparently ac
complished wonders in curing blood diseases, im m une diseases,
and diseases of the skin and brain. There is, in fact, an inner
cham ber in one of the Luxor temples th a t was used as a medical
room; its walls are covered w ith paintings th at show the doctors
at work in these fields.
1 next saw Bruce a m o n th later. In the interim he had devel
oped pneu m o n ia, a co m m o n side effect of AIDS, and had to be
hospitalized. W hen he returned, his face was very white and he
seemed exhausted, th o u g h when I volunteered to p u t off o ur ses
sions, he insisted we go on.
"T h e y 're d o in g healing things for m e," he said. "I c a n 't e x
plain precisely why, b u t I feel I'm on the edge of som eth in g vi
tally im p o rta n t. It's essential I u n d e rs ta n d w h a t it is before I
die."
R ather th a n have him go back again, although it would have
been valuable, I decided to see if I could use the m ind-body c o n
nection to alleviate his physical symptoms. "I w ant to try an ex
perim ent," I told him. "Are you up for it?"
"Sure. A nything."
"T h en I w an t you to switch roles in your mind. You are an
Egyptian patient receiving light and sound energy, and I w ant you
to transfer th a t energy into your present body and m ind."
This was u n o rth o d o x , granted, but I did it because he was
HIV positive an d was suffering pain at the site of the biopsy.
"W h o should your d o ctor be?" I asked.
1W B R I A N L. W E I S S , M ,l>,
"F rank," he answered immediately. "We've had ou r differ

ences, but u n d e rn ea th it all, he still loves me."
"Frank is w ith you in your Egyptian life," I said. "H e's a
priest-healer; he know s the arcane sciences. Let him apply his
knowledge to you."
Bruce closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. I could see
his facial muscles relax, and a bit of color returned to his cheeks.
"It's working. I feel better."
"Excellent. Your d o ctor understands the use of the rods; he
know s the p attern s and the order of light and sound. This is the
highest level of healing. Be grateful for it."
"I am ," he whispered. "O h , I am!"
T h e rest of the session was spent in silence. W hen Bruce left,
I told him to m editate at home. "T h e light and the healing will be
with you there. It n eedn't be confined to this office."
H e cam e back n o t only feeling healthier but with insights.
"M y bro th er was w ith me in b oth past lives," he said. "H e was
the overseer in the first, but in the second he was w ith me as a n
other priest-healer. And when you asked me to go back to th a t life
and be the patient, it was Ben w ho turned o u t to be the healer of
me, n o t Frank."
"I'm sure that's right. N ow p u t yourself in Ben's place in both
lifetimes. Project yourself into his b ody and his perspective."
H e co n centrated for several minutes, frow ning w ith the ef
fort. T h e n his eyes opened, and his smile was incandescent. "He's
jealous o f me! Both in the past life and this one. Even though he's
the powerful one, the ad m inistrator or the politician, he's jealous.
It's his own suffering th a t makes him so cruel."
Bruce explained th at although his brother was an Egyptian
noble an d adm inistrator, he nevertheless resented Bruce's talent
and skills, which he did not possess n or could he ever learn. H e
was raised in an environm ent of absolute privilege and power,
and when Bruce lashed o ut at him in public, he had to avenge the
hum iliation.
SAML SOUL, M A N Y BODlhS -■- 13S
"T h u s the poison," Bruce said. "T h e knife thrust was extra. It
was powered by anger, jealousy, and sham e."
H e was obviously undergoing an intense em pathic experi
ence. I have rarely seen a patient so moved. " W h a t about your
present life? W h at's your brother jealous of now?"
T h e answer cam e quickly: "M y parents' love. Maybe because
1 was the m ore fragile child, they paid m ore attention to me than
him— 'Ben's so strong, he can get along by him self'— and to him
th a t m e a n t they loved me more, th o u g h I'm n o t sure that's true.
This is the revelation. I wish I had k n o w n it sooner."
I asked the psychiatrist's core question: " H o w does it make
you feel?"
"Forgiving. Loving. H e's not the powerful other. He's just like
me, a m ixture of strength and weakness. It's glorious!"
"D o you th in k he could feel the sam e way?"
" O f course. If I can, he can, for we are the same. M y second
life in Egypt tau g h t me that."
"C an you teach him?"
"I can try."
As I write this, Bruce has m ade eno rm o u s progress. His ab d o m i

nal w ou n d has healed; it never turns red or seeps blood. His ulcer
is similarly healed. H e an d Frank have resolved their sexual is
sues, and they have stopped fighting, though they still squabble. I
think they b o th enjoy it. T h ro u g h his p ast life and spiritual expe
riences he has lost his fear of death. H e does n o t see his brother as
all-powerful an d realizes some of this feeling cam e from his own
projections o n to Ben. O f all the lessons his regression has taught
him, the m ost powerful, he thinks, is th a t relationships are in
their profoundest sense between equals, and if he can laud the
strengths of the other and forgive the weaknesses— for they are
ours as well— then love will follow. H e and his brother see each
other often and co m m unicate daily.
i.?6 B R I A N I.. W E I S S , M . I ) .
"H e has turned my being gay into a political plus," Bruce told
me with a grin. " N o w he's a 'liberal Republican.' In Wisconsin
you can 't do better."
In one of o u r last sessions he told me th a t when he was the
Egyptian priest-healer, he sometimes oversaw the healing cere
monies a tte n d a n t to the application of the rods. In these cere
monies he connected the power of the healing energies, light and
sound, which in Egyptian times were believed to connect to the
power of the divinities b ut are now, he know s, attributes of the
one god or the One. Bruce know s th a t he is and always has been
im m o rtal, th a t all of us are eternally interconnected, and th a t we
are forever em braced by love.
C H A P T E R 9
Patrick:
Security
e hear the word security every day. Financial security,
W Social Security, national security— all these are im p o r

tant. But here we are discussing a m ore profound security, secu
rity o f self: em otional security, psychic security, security th a t
enables us to interact fully w ith ou r families, our lovers, our
friends, o u r society, o u r civilization.
It springs fro m self-love, from u n d erstanding yourself as a
soul, an d from realizing you were present in past lives and will
exist in future lives th ro u g h o u t all time. Real security comes from
the know ledge th a t you are im m o rtal, th a t you are eternal, and
th at you can never be harm ed.
I've treated very wealthy people w ho are miserable and have
no sense of security at all, though their creature com forts are as
sured th ro u g h o u t their present lives. Security doesn't come from
possessions. You can't bring your m aterial things into the next
life, but you can bring your deeds, your actions, and your
grow th— w hat you have learned and how you are progressing as a
spiritual h u m a n being. It is also possible th a t you can take some
of your talents. I have the idea th a t M o z a rt was an accomplished
musician in an earlier life, which accounts for his precocity as a
child in the eighteenth century.
B R I A N L. W h l S S , M . I ) .
Security and self-esteem are interrelated, and self-esteem is

sometimes difficult to achieve, th o u g h w ith o u t it self-love isn't
possible. M a n y of us incorporate the concept ta u g h t (usually u n
consciously) by o u r parents, teachers, friends, or communities
th at we are deficient in some way, not up to the mark. If we can let
go of the negatives, we can gain self-love. T he religious traditions
th a t say "love everybody else" miss the point. Self-love is the basis
for love of others. It is where real charity begins. When you love
yourself, it will spill over; when you d o n 't love yourself, your en
ergy will consciously or unconsciously be focused on finding it,
and you w o n 't have time for anybody else.
Self-love isn't selfish; it's healthy self-esteem. T he egotist, the
braggart, the self-promoter, the diva, and the salesman— those
who com e across as self-loving in order to sell themselves or their
products— are often insecure at heart. T h e m an 1 once thought
was the m ost put-together person I knew, a model of public self-
assurance an d self-promotion, told me in a m o m e n t of m utual
confidence th a t he played a game called "dodge the bus," which
m ean t he stood at a dangerous street co rner and tried to see how
close he could com e to being hit.
" W h a t if you were killed?" I asked, flabbergasted.
"T h en the world would be rid of a worthless thing," he a n
swered.
True self-love d o e s n 't need to be b ro a d c a s t o r publicly d is
played. It is an in n e r state, a feeling, a stren g th , a happiness; it
is security. R em em b er, souls are p a r t o f the O n e , which is love.
We all have souls. We are always loved. We can always love in
retu rn .
When Patrick entered my office for the first time, he looked like a
scruffy adolescent— hair tousled, wispy beard, jeans and Marlins
jacket th a t needed a wash, untied A didas sneakers and filthy fin
gernails— but he was actually thirty-one. A cadaverously thin
young m an w ith rheum y eyes th at he averted and a limp h a n d
SAME SOUL, M AN Y BODIES - - — 149
shake, this was a m an whose self-esteem was as low as th a t of

anyone I've ever encotintered.
We established his age, residence (Miami), th a t he was still
living with his parents, profession (accountant for a fledgling d o t
com com pany), an d the fact th a t he was an only child and sin
gle— "a virgin," he told me w ith a flush of shame.
"W h o recom m ended me?" I asked.
"M y parents."
"D o I kn o w them?"
"N o. T here is n o way you would. M y father works in the
shipping office of a factory, and my m o m is a saleslady at K m art.
N o t the sort of people you h o b n o b w ith."
T he last was said hostilely. I let it pass but th o u g h t they must
love their son deeply to spend the m oney for his therapy. "T hen
how did they find o u t ab o u t me?"
"T h ey heard you on a T V show and im m ediately it was
'T h at's the m a n for Patrick.' "
"Why?"
"Because I'm into science fiction— or was."
"And they th in k past life regression is science fiction?" I
looked a t him closely. "D o you?"
A shrug. Silence. I pressed on: "You said you were into science
fiction. W hen was that?"
"W hen I was a kid."
"But you're n o t anymore?"
" O h , I guess I am. But I'm to o old for it."
Remarkable. M a n y of my adult friends read science fiction
and have lent me books by w riters I admire: Verne, Wells, Lem,
Bradbury I was particularly interested in them now since they
had extrao rd in ary visions of the future. "W h at's 'to o old'?"
"Twelve."
H e said it with such assurance th a t I knew an event had h a p
pened when he was th a t age which had som ehow scarred him.
"You were to o old when you reached twelve? O th e r people read
science fiction until they're ninety."
140 B R I A N I.. VC' KISS, M . D .
A n o th er shrug. Granted. "W h o said you were to o old?"

"M y dad. H e took my hooks and sold them to a secondhand
bookstore. H e said it was time for me to prepare for w hat I'd do
when I was grown up."
"And science fiction would interfere with that?"
"I was a dreamer, he said, living on M ars. It was time to come
back to E arth."
"Was he right?"
"I suppose so." Patrick leaned forw ard and at last his voice
became anim ated. "But I'll tell you, Dr. Weiss. It was a lot better
living on M ars th an it is on E arth."
T h e n how un h ap p y his life on E arth m ust be.
" W h a t d o you think of the probes of M a rs now?" I asked.
"Have you seen the pictures?"
"Have I! And that's just the beginning. In ten years there'll be
h u m an s on M ars, colonies of them ."
"Will you be there?"
T h e light w ent o u t of it as though I'd switched it off. " N a h ."
"Because you're n o t allowed to?"
"Because others will have gotten there first." H e p u t his hands
together and b ro u g h t th em in front of his eyes, as though to blot
out m y face. "T h ey w o u ld n't w ant m e with them ."
Again I felt his unhappiness. "Why?"
"Because I d o n 't belong. Because I never belong."
"W here d o you belong?"
"Alone in the sky."
"H o w d o you know?"
"T h a t's w h at the books told me."
"T h e science fiction books?"
"R ight. Only to me they d id n 't seem like fiction— they were
glimpses of the future. I'd be in this spaceship or even flying on
my own; it was easy I d id n 't like the books where there were wars
and such. I d id n 't like monsters or super weapons. Just the books
abo u t traveling to other planets or the stars."
I could picture him self-imprisoned in his room , reading,
SAME SOUL, M ANY BODIES—
- 141
while his parents fretted below, w ondering w hat to do with their

peculiar child.
"Even when you stopped reading," I said, "w hen you tried to
do w hat your father wanted, tried to fit in, you were alone."
H e looked at me as th ough I were a magician. "Yes. W hen I
tried to talk a b o u t the sky or about other planets or space travel,
the kids d id n 't seem interested. But it was all I knew about, all I
cared about. I could go where others co uldn't, and they didn't
w ant to h ear ab o u t it. T he kids th o u g h t I was crazy, all except
D onnie who was my friend. H e was the only boy I felt co m fo rt
able w ith, but then his parents moved away and he went with
them ."
"W hich left you completely alone."
"T h e thing is, I began to think there was som ething w rong
w ith me. I was different, I k new that, but why? I felt all-powerful,
but it tu rn s o u t I h ad no power at all. M y d ad told me science
fiction was for kids, but if th a t was so, why didn't kids read it? I
gave it up like he w anted, but my life felt empty. It w asn't fun any
more. I had no place to go, no place to hide. Since nobody paid
attention to me, n o b o d y listened, I co u ld n 't trust myself. I like
num bers— there's a m athem atics to space— so I became an ac
countant. An accountant! Is there anything m ore norm al? Is
there anything m ore dull? I felt completely empty, hopeless."
Patrick's long speech was accom panied by a series of facial
expressions— sadness, anger, despair, blankness— th a t were the
physical signs of his inner turmoil.
"You sh o u ld n 't listen to others so m uch," I said quietly. "Fol
low your intuition. There's noth in g w ro n g w ith being a loner—
and, anyway, just as you found D onnie, you'll find others, men
and w om en, w ho'll think as you do."
H e shrugged, then turned his head away. I could sense he was
fighting back tears.
"W h at's the matter?" I asked.
"You told me I sho u ld n't listen to others."
"Yes. It's good advice."
142 B R I A N I.. WI US . S , M . I ) .
" T h a t's just the trouble. It isn't."

"I d o n 't u nderstand."
N ow he looked at me, and his answer was an anguished wail:
"I feel hopeless, desperate, despairing. If I d o n 't listen to others,
then I'll have to listen to myself!"
M em ories of past lives came easily to him under hypnosis. "I'm a

male," he said, "b u t not exactly a m an, n o t exactly h u m an."
I tried to hide my am azem ent, b u t I'm afraid my voice might
have cracked. " W h a t time period are you talking about?"
"Sixty tho u san d years ago."
"Sixty th o u — " I stared at him, trying to see if the hypnosis
h a d n 't worked and he was putting me on. No. His eyes were
closed, his breathing regular. "G o on," I m anaged to say.
"I was b o rn o n an o th er planet. It had no name. Maybe it ex
isted in a different planetary system or a different dimension.
Anyway, I'm p a r t of a m igration from my planet to Earth. W hen
we arrive, others greet us, descendants of beings from earlier m i
grations from different star systems. T hey're mixed a m o n g an
evolving subspecies, h u m a n beings. We m ust stay on Earth w ith
them because o u r planet is dying and this one is new. True, we
needn't have physically come here. O u r souls could have been
reincarnated into the hu m ans around us or into the beings from
other worlds. But we are a proud people. O u r technology is a d
vanced— we have traveled vast distances— o u r culture is sophisti
cated, and o u r intelligence is acute. We w ant to preserve ou r
knowledge an d o u r accomplishments. We w ant to join the others
and th ro u g h reincarnation aid the evolution of these new h u m a n
people."
T h e Patrick in my office had a high voice as though it had not
fully m atured. It was appropriate to his personality. Now, h ow
ever, his tone was resonant, and the words flowed with great a u
thority. I was spellbound by his vision, one unlike any I had ever
encountered.
SAME SOUL, M A N Y B O D I E S 351—
-
" O u r bodies are not to o different from the h u m an s', but our
minds are far superior. T h e atm osphere on E arth is much like the
one su rrounding ou r old planet, which is why we chose this loca
tion as o u r destination, but the air here is pure and clear. In all
other respects, too, the E arth is far more beautiful than the place
from which we came. T here are trees and grass and water, rivers
and oceans, and flowers, birds, and fish of every color. I am c o n
tent here— no, m ore th an content. H a p p ie r than I've ever been.
i\ly job is to supervise the storage of artifacts and w ritten know l
edge, an d I have found the ideal place: natural cham bers deep
under the E arth's surface. By the time h u m an s have reached a
level where they can u n d erstan d w hat we have hidden, they will
be able to find it."
Later, when 1 had a chance to po n d er w hat he was saying, sev
eral ideas th a t I h a d formed before I met him seemed verified.
Souls are the same, 1 believed, whether they com e from different
dim ensions or galaxies or from Earth. N ew arrivals to o ur world
quickly enter the reincarnation cycle and then tend to incarnate
here, in p a r t because they have created karm ic debts and obliga
tions, in p a rt because their mission is to assist in the evolution of
the h u m a n race. Souls can enter earthly bodies as easily as any
"alien" body. Patrick's soul chose to stay in this "paradise" th a t
his people had chosen to inhabit.
With my urging, Patrick to o k me further ahead in this past
life. "I have found a cliff where the ocean meets the sky, and I have
built a house there of stone an d w ood. M y huge task is complete;
the artifacts and docu m ents are safely stored. I am free to enjoy
the beauty aro u n d me, to bask in the scented air. I am considered
wise, an d m an y of my own race, as well as hum ans, come to me
for advice, which I am happy to give. Eventually I die, but long
ago my people learned to detach their souls from their physical
bodies at the p ro p er m o m en t so they can move w ith ease to levels
of higher consciousness. This I do, but I am able to continue c o m
m unication with m an y of my people still in their bodies in their
new hom e, the planet E arth."
144 B R I A N 1.. W K I S S . M . I ) .
Indeed, he seemed transported, floating between two realms,

in two levels of consciousness. "T h e distinction between G od
and h u m a n s is minor," he said. " O n e of the pieces of knowledge
th a t rem ain hidden where I have had it stored is bow to master the
a rt of separating consciousness from the physical vehicle. Some
day soon your culture will learn how to do that, too. W hen th a t
happens, you will find th a t the separating awareness can assume
other, less 'solid' bodies as it wishes. From th a t vantage it can in
fluence o th e r entities in their physical forms. To the receiving en
tity this influence will seem divine, angelic, godlike. But it is really
an advanced form of the very same consciousness possessed by
the receiver."
To h ear such profound thoughts from a young m an who
seemed at first m eeting callow and unform ed was thrilling. And
w hat he said n ext was, to me, beautiful.
"M y world is ancient and yours is very young, yet the differ
ence is as n o th in g in the scope of time. T im e is like a breath out
and a breath in by a cosmic god. T h e o u t-breath is the creation of
stars, planets, galaxies, and universes. T he in-breath brings them
all back into one incredibly small a n d dense po in t of dust in the
god's lungs. T h e respiration of time, in and out, occurring in an
endless n u m b e r of cycles, hints at the n ature of eternity."
Patrick fell silent, an d I, m uch moved, considered his words.
M y ow n studies, I felt, had been enhanced. I h ad been shown, as
Patrick said, a glimpse o f "the nature of eternity," and it seemed
to me exquisite. I u n d erstood his attraction to science fiction, his
love for the sky, an d the wish for the ability to travel to the stars.
W hen he awakened, I asked him if he believed th a t w hat he had
witnessed was merely an extension of the books he had loved as a
child.
" N o ," he said quickly. "I never imagined anything like w hat I
saw just now, and neither did the w riters of the books. M y expe
rience was very real. I im agined nothing."
His reaction seemed authentic and sparked in him a wave of
ideas.
S A M E S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S 51—
-
" W h a t if black holes are actually p a r t of the cosmic

in-breath?" he wondered aloud. " W h a t if angels and masters and
spiritual guides are som ehow linked to ancient and highly a d
vanced alien civilizations?"
Far out, 1 thought. Over the edge. But that's w hat I had
th ou g h t when C atherine began her regressions and when Victo
ria told me she had seen m e in Jerusalem. Besides, w hat I thou g h t
didn 't matter. I could see a new light in Patrick's eyes, the spark of
his passion returning after m ore th a n twenty years. Further th e r
apy w ould bring him closer to his spiritual path, I knew. It would
bring him to it by renewing his passion for life, his joy and his
hope.
As therapy progressed, Patrick was able to rem em ber three a d d i

tional p ast lives:
1. As an indigenous in hab itan t of either Central America

or the n o rth e rn p a r t of South America nine centuries
ago, he was renow ned as a m athem atician and an
astronom er, living alone but revered and hon ored to
an old age. His experience sixty thousand years ago
influenced this lifetime, he realized, for he was curious
a b o u t the configuration of the stars and the m eaning of
meteors.
2. In the early eighteenth century he was a kabbalistic

Jewish rabbi, a scholar living in a small tow n outside
Krakow, Poland. There he was able to com bine his
mystical studies w ith a practical family life. H e had
m uch to teach, had a wife a n d m any children, and was
com fortable an d accepted by the townsfolk and his
culture. H e did not feel like an "alien" as he often did
in this current life.
146 — ■B R I A N L. W K I S S , M . I ) .
3. H e was a Buddhist m onk living in a cold and barren

p a r t of C hina in the fourteenth century. T here he was
well accepted in the com m unity of religious thinkers
an d was able to com bine periods of m editation and
introspection w ith an active farm ing life. H e was a
m aster of energy m anipulation and flow, particularly the
energy centers an d channels w ithin the body. W hen he
was back in the present, he u nderstood how similar his
w ork was to the practice of acupuncture. As he relived
this Chinese lifetime, he sensed his im m ediate trans
cendence beyond the physical and m o rtal to a place in
a n o th e r realm in a parallel universe. M a n y of these
concepts were similar to the know ledge and w isdom he
w ould acquire several centuries later as the kabbalistic
rabbi; he could see the connection im m ediately as we
reviewed this Buddhist life in m y office. Either the cul
tures h a d com m unicated at some time in the past, he
surm ised, or the knowledge was indeed universal and
could be tap p ed into independently by anyone wishing
to use his o r her intelligence in the pursuit of w hat lay
beyond the perceptible world.
By this tim e Patrick felt com fortable w ith me and, as he p u t it,

"enjoyed m y sessions as much as I enjoyed reading science fic
tion." But he still had difficulty in the M iam i outside my office.
While he was less influenced by the values and opinions of other
people, particularly his father, he still felt insecure in the presence
of w om en an d all strangers. "N o w instead of feeling despairing,"
he said, "I just feel lonely. M y thoughts are nice to go to sleep
with, but I'd be happier if a w om an's body was alongside me to
keep them c o m p a n y " H e closed his eyes. "M aybe in a future life,"
he said wistfully.
"M ay b e," I said. "W ould you like to try to find out?"
SAME SOUL, M ANY BODIES --751—
M y n am e is M ad d ie," Patrick said. "W om en aren't usually

asked to p articip ate in high-level astronom ical research, but my
grades were so superior to my male co u n te rp a rts ' and my work
so good at the space center th a t they could n 't keep me away— I'd
have sued them ."
Some things d o n 't change, I thought. Sexism in the future
doesn't sound very different from sexism in the present. I liked
M addie immediately. She was obviously a fierce and tough advo
cate for herself, a good progression for Patrick.
" W h a t year is it?" I asked.
"Year tw enty-tw o fifty-four," she answered immediately.
" M o n th May, day Thursday, time ten-seventeen p.m ."
"H o w old are you?"
"T h irty -o n e"— the age Patrick was in this life.
"W here are you speaking from?"
" T h e observatory, of course. H ere I am , su rrounded by my
com puters, my 'scopes, my listening devices. I've been here since
nine this m o rn in g — my usual h o u rs— a n d I co u ld n 't be happier."
" W h a t specifically are you w orking on?"
She sighed. "I suppose it's all right to tell. T h e press got hold
of the story a few weeks ago and have been m a k i n ever
g f u n o f i t
since. M y friends laugh at me, too, but I assure you it's dead seri
ous."
"I have no d o u b t of it," I said gravely.
"We're studying the origin, structure, and occasional demise
of alien civilizations."
I confess to being stunned. If this was fantasy, it was a p p ro
priate for Patrick, a direct continuation of his childhood reading.
But if it was real, an d if his life sixty th o u sa n d years ago was real,
then how marvelous th at at this future po in t in time he could
study the roots of his past.
"W here does your inform ation com e from?"
M ad d ie seemed pleased by the question, adopting a professo
rial tone familiar to me from my college days. "Simply p u t— and
what we do is by no means simple— we've been utilizing data
148 B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
from spacc probes to 'listen' to the messages from other planets

in o th e r galaxies. W h at we learn from them is then com bined
with inform ation gathered from the sixteen space stations we've
orbited th ro u g h o u t the solar system, and by now we have a pretty
good idea of the landscape. It seems there are dozens of such civ
ilizations, such societies. M o st are to o far away for us to m ake
anything b ut the m ost ru dim entary contacts— signals sent from
them to us and from us to them th a t tell b oth societies th a t we
exist. But w ith others, the closer ones, those th a t have the tech
nology to accomplish it— well, it seems we'll be having some vis
its pretty soon."
"Will they visit us, or will we visit them?"
" O h , they'll come to us. We're n o t nearly advanced enough in
space travel. We've barely been able to get beyond ou r own solar
system." She paused, eyes bright. "But when they do com e and
we can show th em to the world, think of the increases in govern
m ent funding!"
"You'll be there to see it," I said.
"You bet! A nd the press and my friends w ho laughed at us.
They'll be eating crow."
M a d d ie was hazy ab out family, friends, and personal rela
tionships. W hen I asked ab o u t them , she changed the subject
back to her work. Clearly, this was the p a r t of his future life
which inspired Patrick, and as always I did n o t press the patient
to go where he was reluctant to investigate.
I was a b o u t to ask him for m ore details ab o u t M addie's re
search w hen his awareness shifted, and he left th a t lifetime to
com e back to the current one; still hypnotized, he viewed it from
a higher perspective.
"For the p ast three years I'd been thinking of taking an as
tro n o m y course a t the University of M iam i. I'd audit it if they
w o u ld n 't accept me as a full-time student. But I always p o s t
poned it— to o shy to ask, I guess. But now I see I'm m eant to take
the course. It is the next step in preparation for my future life and
SAME SOUL, M AN Y BODIES -- 149
—
work." H e to o k a breath, then said slowly and calmly, "It's the

destiny I've been searching for."
A fter he left, I w ro te a no te on the co ncepts of destiny and
free will t h a t are so i m p o r ta n t to my w ork: "P atrick w ould be
choo sin g to tak e th e a s tro n o m y course, yet it w ould also be his
destiny. T h e tw o are strongly linked. T h e correct ap p lic a tio n
of o u r free will co u ld carry us alo n g the p a th of o u r destiny.
O n the o th e r h a n d , free choices th a t are n o t correct could
carry us away from o u r destiny, delaying o u r spiritual progress
and c o m p lic a tin g o u r lives. It's m uch easier to m ake c orrect
choices if we can glim pse o u r future, w h eth er in this life o r in
lives to co m e."
Seeing his future life certainly crystallized Patrick's decision
to take the a stro n o m y course. H e enrolled at the next o p p o r tu
nity.
Patrick soon received confirm ation th a t he was indeed on the

p ath of his true destiny. D uring the second semester of his astro n
omy course, he called me. By th a t tim e we h ad long finished his
therapy, an d I h a d n 't heard from him since his discharge. "I need
to see you," he said.
U h-oh. We m ad e a date, and I w ondered w hat could possibly
have happened. Patrick had been transform ed from a m an w ith
debilitating insecurities to one w ho seemed at peace with himself
and w ith his limitations. From his long silence I assumed he was
getting along well, but maybe som ething h ad th row n him back
into his form er disquiet.
To the contrary, he b oun d ed into my office like an over-
zealous p u p p y and clasped my h an d in a firm grip. W hereas he
used to avoid my eyes, now he looked into them w ith a steady gaze.
"W h at's up?" I asked, my fears for him dissipating. Dressed
neatly, clean-shaven, and hair newly trim m ed, his good h u m o r
was palpable.
1W ..... B R I A N L. W E I S S , M, l > ,
H e was carrying a small package th a t he placed on my desk.

"I m et a girl."
"W onderful!" A nd som ew hat surprising. I had expected him
to do well academically but n o t necessarily socially. Still, security
in one phase o f life often means security in others. This is obvi
ously w hat h ad hap pened inside Patrick.
"Tell me a b o u t her," I said.
" H e r nam e is Sara." H e grinned. "She's a nerd like me."
"You m et her at school?"
"Yeah. She may n o t be beautiful to look at— though she's no
dog, m ind you— but her brain is beautiful. She's beautiful."
"She's interested in astronom y?"
" O f course. O therw ise she w o u ld n 't be taking the course.
She's twenty-seven, works in an architectural firm where she's
going nowhere, an d decided to change her life. Coincidence, isn't
it?"
O r destiny, I tho u g h t. If Patrick h a d n 't decided to change his
life, too, Sara an d he alm ost certainly would never have met. I de
lighted in his joy.
"W e're engaged," he said. "We'll m arry in the winter. T h a t's
why I needed to see you, to tell you it w o u ld n 't have happened
w ith o u t your help, to th an k you in person."
"T h a t's w h at therapy is for. I'm glad it worked so well."
H e indicated the package he had p u t on my desk. "I b rought
you a present." I picked it up.
" D o n 't open it until I leave," he said, suddenly shy. "I hope
you like it."
H is mission fulfilled, he was obviously anxious to go, and I
did n o t detain him. We shook hands, k now ing we m ight never see
each oth er again.
W h en he was gone, I opened the package. It was a book:
H . G. Wells's The T im e Machine.
CHAPTER 10
John:
Free Will and Destiny
talked about free will and destiny earlier, and it forms a
I m ajo r them e in my previous b o o k , O nly Love Is Real. Yet it is

a lesson th a t c a n n o t be stressed enough, for it comes up fre
quently in o u r lives. Every day I hear a b o u t it from patients and
from colleagues doing similar work.
D estiny and free will seem to exist together. There is an intel
ligence, a w isd o m , or a consciousness th a t know s how events and
relationships will tu rn out. H a m le t calls it a destiny "th a t shapes
ou r ends." We o n E arth d o n 't know how they will end, but we
can affect h o w they will turn o u t for us b o th later in our life an d
in o ur lives to co m e by our present actions and behaviors— by
our free will.
Ju s t as th e soul does a review at the end of a life, so it seems
to m ak e a life preview before we are b o rn . It plans the life. I'm
going to w o rk o n co m p assio n or e m p a th y or nonviolence, for e x
am ple. It sees how the life is set up, w h o m w e're going to m eet,
who will help us alo n g the spiritual p a th , and how we're going to
help th em . (It's co m p licated because there is an interaction w ith
oth e r souls, an d they have their plans, too.) T h e people we m eet
and th e experiences th a t are set up help us learn— this is destiny.
1M
B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . l ) .
Okay. You've m et this beautiful person, and you had in your

life preview planned to spend the rest of your lives together,
learning together, helping each oth er as you progress toward im
m ortality But the person is of the w rong religion or lives too far
away, or your parents intervene, o r you d o n 't have the courage to
override the influence of your culture, so you choose not to m arry
th at person either spiritually or physically. This is free will. You
had a choice and, freely m ade, it was no. T he choice will bring
you to a destiny p o in t th a t might n o t have occurred if your choice
had been yes. T h a t is how we change o u r future in this life.
If you meet this person and marry, it will p u t you on one road
th at you chose with your free will, and it will affect the rest of this
life an d your future lives. If you choose to separate, you'll be on a
different road, and you may be learning different lessons. You
may m eet a different soul m ate or have a different experience.
You will w o rk primarily on empathy, say, rather than nonvio
lence. T h e m ore im p o rta n t questions are how quickly you are
going to learn and how much happiness, spirituality, tranquility,
and so forth, you are going to have in your life.
T h e answers depend to a large extent on your free will.
It is like climbing a tree: T here are m any different branches
and m an y different choices. You'll com e to the top of the tree
eventually, but it may take five lifetimes or ten or thirty. H ow
m any lifetimes will it take to fulfill your soul's goal of learning
com passion, for example? It will depend on the choices you
make. T hus, both destiny (the tree, after all, was there) a n d free
will coexist.
I d o n 't believe in psychics who say, "You're going to meet this
w onderful person in 2008, and you will be m arried." They may
be skillful an d talented psychics, and they may be right th at you'll
meet your p a rtn e r in 2008, but it's free choice th a t will determ ine
w hether or n o t you spend your lives together. You'll choose based
on your ow n intuition, n ot on the psychic.
SAME SOUL, M ANY BODIES - - — 153
Here is an exam ple of a free choice m ade in the present th a t will

change a m an's future lives. It w asn't com e by easily. Choices he
m ade in earlier lives affected this one, and if he h a d n 't been able
to regress and to u nderstand the regression, I'm not sure how
long it would have taken him to find the right path.
His n am e was John, and he died in w hat might have been the
G reat Fire of L o ndon. H e w asn't sure of the date, only th a t it was
a fire, it was in the M iddle Ages, the city was London, and he
died. T h e event traum atized him in the lifetimes to come.
I d id n 't know ab o u t it immediately. As w ith all my patients,
we spent the first sessions discussing his present problems and
trying to see if there was a root cause for them in his childhood or
in oth e r aspects o f this current life. T h en there were several re
gressions leading to dim and inconclusive images, and one th a t
led to a vivid past but n ot to the fire.
T h e first thing I should know ab o u t him , he said alm ost as
soon as we shook hands, was th a t he was rich. Usually, people tell
you their age, where they live, their m arital status, a little a b o u t
their family history, o r w hat they do for a living. N o t John. "I'm a
wealthy m a n ," he said and then kept quiet as though th a t was all
the in fo rm atio n I needed.
I was tem pted to say, "Well, good for you." Wealth doe sn't
impress me, an d to boast a b o u t it seems n o t only bad m anners
but bad taste. But I quickly realized he w asn't boasting, for the
statem en t was delivered w ith o u t joy or pride. It was as though
wealth was the problem he had com e to see me about.
We would get to th at. First, I w anted to study w hat he looked
like and then take a conventional history.
Actually, John's appearance ann o u n ced his wealth alm ost as
directly as he did himself. H e was in his early sixties and h a d the
kind of m a n n eq u in looks th at com e w ith face-lifts, custom -m ade
shirts, frequent C aribbean vacations (or a good sun lamp), teeth
whiteners, a personal trainer, $200 haircuts, and a weekly m a n i
cure. I had the feeling th a t if som eone struck him gently with a
ham m er, he would crumble like a new jerry-built facade on a r o t
K R I A N L. W h l S S , M . IV
ting house. It w o u ld n 't have surprised me if he had been or still

was a professional model, though th a t did n o t seem a likely p ro
fession for him. Indeed, as it turned out, he had no profession
at all.
H e lived in a Palm Beach m a n sio n w ith tw enty room s, ser
vants, a n d a four-car garage. H is wife, L auren, was so m e o n e
w hose p ic tu re my wife, C arole, h a d seen n o t only in the soci
ety pages o f the M i a m i H erald but also in articles a b o u t
Florida society in Vogue and Vanity Fair. T h ere was a n o th e r
house in B a rb a d o s , a flat in L o n d o n , a n d a p ied-a-terre in
N e w York. T h e re were also tw o children, Stacey, nineteen, in
her s o p h o m o re year at Wellesley, " m a jo rin g in boys," J o h n
said, a n d R a lp h , twenty-five, finishing law school and h o p in g
to clerk for a S uprem e C o u r t justice. J o h n was n o t optim istic
a b o u t th e boy's chances.
" W h a t ab o u t you?" I asked. "Are your parents alive?"
"Died eight and ten years back."
"You had a good relationship w ith them?"
"I suppose so. They were very social. W hen I was a kid, I was
brought up by nannies, but M o m and D ad often took me on trips
with them . From the time I was twelve they sometimes let me
have dinner with th em when they h ad invited guests. W hen it was
just the three of us, we ate together, of course, but th a t didn't
hap p en often."
"W h o were the guests likely to be?"
"T h eir friends, naturally— mainly the neighbors. When they
cam e to dinner, I'd be there, too. T hey liked to play bridge after
dinner, but by then I'd be in bed. A nd there were the business
guests. M y presence at such dinners was strictly verboten. D ad
was w h a t is called an 'international financier,' whatever th a t
means. All sorts of illustrious bankers showed up, along with an
occasional deposed dictator of some South American country
and from time to time a European m uck-a-muck. M arga re t
T h atch er slept over once. Q uite a to-do."
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES -- 155
—
"I'll bet. But n o t so good for a little boy."

" N o t good at all," John said. "I always felt I was less im p o r
tan t to my father th an his business associates."
"And to your m other?"
"Less im p o rta n t th an my father."
This was said as a kind of joke, but I could feel the pain be
neath it. His m o th e r had centered her attention on his father, not
on him. "Any siblings?"
"I'm an only child. They d id n 't have time to neglect more
th a n one."
" W h a t ab o u t childhood friends?"
"D ozens o f acquaintances, no close friends. M y parents
would throw huge birthday parties for me, and it seemed every
child in Florida showed up, but I quickly realized they were there
for the food, the favors, and the p o n y rides, n o t because I was
close to their hearts. Even my school chum s were only th a t—
chums. T hey were all nannied, to o — closely supervised— so we
didn 't have a chance to get into mischief. Even now I get jealous
when I hear ab o u t street gangs or reformatories. It seems to me
those boys had it better th an I did."
H is small ironies covered large w ounds, I thought. It's hard to
be an a d ju n ct to one's parents' lives. I knew from notes my assis
ta n t jotted d o w n when Jo h n first called for an a p p o in tm e n t th a t
he h a d never sought psychotherapy before even though his un-
happiness was long-standing, and I w ondered w hat specific inci
dent h ad impelled him to com e to me.
"So you grew up overly cloistered?" I asked.
"Perfectly put. I was like a tapestry on their walls, beautiful
and finely crafted, but nothing m ore th an an ad o rn m e n t." H e
th o u g h t for a m om ent. "Still, I believe they loved me in their own
way."
" W h a t a b o u t college? Surely you could escape then."
"All the way to the University o f Southern C alifornia."
"And your life changed?"
B R I A N L. W E I S S . M . D .
"For the three m onths I was there."

"You were expelled?"
"Alas, no th in g so dramatic. I quit."
"W hy?"
"Because the work was too hard."
"You hated to study?"
"I couldn't study. There was no point in it. So it was to o hard
to pick up a b o o k or a test tube."
"Isn't one po in t to get a degree?"
"I suppose so. I d id n 't need one to n o t work."
"W hich even at eighteen you had m apped o u t as your future
course?"
"Consciously, no, but subconsciously, yes."
" W h a t ab o u t learning for the joy of it? For the intellectual ex
citement?"
"W h en I learn something, I feel no joy or excitement."
I was becom ing exasperated. " N o th in g interests you?"
" M a n y things do, but never for as long as a m onth. After I
quit college, I tried a whole series of jobs: real estate, banking,
Porsche salesman, sporting goods. N o n e of them came to any
thing."
" H o w did your parents feel a b o u t that?"
"I'm n o t sure they knew. They certainly did n 't care. You see,
by the tim e I was twenty-one, m y trust fund kicked in. O n e mil
per year, enough for me to scrape by. I rented a house in M alibu
and devoted myself to my one abiding interest: my since-I-was-
fifteen obsession."
"W hich is?"
"Girls. W om en. T h e female form, the female flesh." H e
smiled. "As I say, from age fifteen, an obsession."
"So you had affairs, rom ances— "
"Absolutely. A nd one-night stands, fleeting dalliances. You
n am e it. I never paid for sex, at least in the sense of hiring pro sti
tutes o r call girls, but my girls were expensive nevertheless. T he
SAMK SOUL. M A W BODIHS
finest dinners, a bauble or geegaw for the fabulous ones— at the

very least a limousine ride hom e."
"H o w m any were there?"
"H u n d re d s."
"And how long did the serious affairs last?"
" M y usual concentration span: less than a m onth."
"But your wife— "
"Lauren. She was, of course, one of the fabulous ones, or else
I w o u ld n 't have m arried her."
"You've been m arried how long?"
"Twenty-six years."
"Sounds as if you've exceeded your concentration span by
quite a lot."
" N o t really. We've been m arried for a long time, true, but
b oth of us lost interest quickly. W ith us it is m ore of a business
arran g em en t."
M y m ind shuddered. "To lure— "
"Never! W h a t d o you take me for? N o. Lauren's and my busi
ness is being rich. W ith o ur com bined resources we can buy a n y
thing we w ant. A n y th in g ."
"Give me an example."
" W e ll. . . M adagascar."
"You b o u g h t M adagascar?"
H e laughed. " N o t really. Actually, o u r money goes toward
good works. M y parents funded a foundation for charitable
work. It established start-up h o m e tu to rin g program s for inner-
city four- an d five-year-olds from troubled families, set up AIDS
clinics in seventeen different locations, w ith m ore to come— th a t
so rt of thing. And Lauren and I contribute heavily to it. T h e in
terest on the interest."
"But you d o n 't take an active p a rt in m anaging it?"
A n o th er laugh, this time tinged w ith bitterness. "I couldn't
m an ag e a lem onade stand."
"Well, w orking for it, then. L ooking for new projects."
HS BRIAN 1 . W h I S S , M.l ).
H e shrugged. "Too much work. Too much trouble."

"D oes Lauren feel the same way?"
"She has her own public relations firm. It occupies her full-
time, th o u g h G od know s she doesn't need the income."
1 decided to provoke him. His airy dismissal of any am bition,
any goal, seemed a sym ptom of an unquiet soul. "W hile you stay
hom e, do in g whatever pleases you, w orking o u t but taking the
occasional nap if it all gets too tough."
H e glanced at me, stung. "R ight in all but one respect: the o c
casional nap."
"T h e n ten hours of sleep each night is enough?"
T h e veneer cracked. His body sagged, and his eyes looked
haunted. "Lately 1 haven't been able to sleep. Never on my own,
and there isn't a d ru g powerful enough to keep me under for m ore
than an h o u r or two."
"Yet you lead an ideal life: plenty of money, good looks, your
pick of w om en, an u n derstanding wife, a gorgeous home. Yes,
you m ight have had neglectful parents, but they provided for you,
and you tell me they loved you. W h a t force is so powerful th a t it
doesn 't let you sleep?"
H e struggled to keep his voice calm — and failed. "Terror, Dr.
Weiss. Unremitting, abject terror."
I felt the hair rise on my arms. "T error of what?"
" O f death. I ru n and run and run from the fear, but it always
catches up. T h e w om en— they're just a diversion. So was any job
I ever to o k . N o th in g drove away the fear. It's hard to go o u t
doors— it was hard to come here— because I'm sure I'll be in an
accident. I w o n 't drive, can't drive. O u r house has m ore alarm
systems th a n a M afia don's. We rarely travel; planes are d e a th
traps. A sudden loud noise? I'm und er the table. I'm a Vietnam
vet w ith PTSD [post-traum atic stress disorder], only I've never
been to war. T h e idea of my handling a gun is ludicrous. Jesus,
I'm scared to carve a turkey! Last week I heard a car backfire, and
I fainted, passed out. I decided it was crazy, and I'd better do
som ething ab o u t it, so I called you."
S A M 1' S O U L MANY HOD1F. S
H e sat back, pale and shaken. I often find it difficult to figure

out w hether the causes of a patient's sym ptom s lie in his present
life or some past-life event. Here, given John's present-life history,
there seemed no question: Only som ething th a t had happened in
a past life o r a series of past lives could explain his traum a. I dis
cussed the issue with him.
"I'm gam e," he said. "N o th in g could be worse than w hat I'm
already experiencing."
O u r first attem p ts were inconclusive. It was as though John was

reluctant to investigate the past. Eventually he reached a signifi
cant period, and it galvanized him.
"It's m an y centuries ago," J o h n said, his eyes closed but his
body tense. "I a m a great w arrior, a w arrior-king. T h e arm y I
lead is e n c a m p e d outside a fortified city, its walls unbreachable
because m an y o f my men have g row n sick from dysentery, and
to o few of th em are well en ough to m o u n t an attack. N e v e rth e
less, if we d o n 't take the city, o u r w eakness will becom e kn o w n ,
and we'll be slaughtered in the field. I've arran g ed a m eeting with
the ruler of the city, but before it takes place, I have my m en pitch
their tents an d p u t o n their a r m o r to disguise the extent of o u r
plight. W h a t he sees before him w hen he looks at us from the b a t
tlem ents, I tell the ruler, is just a small p o rtio n o f my army. N o t
five miles away is a force of three th o u s a n d m en, only awaiting
my signal before they attack. T hey have been w ith o u t w om en for
several m o n th s; the rape of his people's wives and d a u g h te rs is
only one of the consequences he can be sure of if the city falls.
T he m en will be killed an d the babies roasted on spits.
"M y men have com m itted such atrocities in other battles, and
word of them has reached the ruler, so he believes w hat I say.
W hat will you have me do? he asks. Give up peacefully. Let us oc
cupy your city only for the time it will take us to rest and care for
our horses. T h en we will leave. T here are m ore im p o rta n t battles
to be won elsewhere.
1M) BRIAN I-. W E I S S . M . I ) .
"T h e ruler agrees. H e opens the gates to the city. Immediately

my m en attack. They kill all the able-bodied men. They ravish
the w o m en, and I rape the ruler's daughter, for I, too, have been
too long w ith o u t a w oman's com fort. W hen we are finished, we
set fire to the city, bolting the gates closed behind us as we depart.
T he fire spreads to the nearby w oods, but my men are unharm ed.
All those within the city are burned to death. M y nam e becomes
sy nonym ous with cruelty and destruction. I'm feared th ro u g h o u t
the region. G reat rulers give me u n to ld riches to prevent my a t
tacks. I can buy anything I w ant, have anything I w ant."
I led him back to the present. "Including M adagascar?" I
asked when in his review he discussed his feeling of wealth and
power.
H e saw the connection between th a t past life and this present
one, but my little joke d id n 't am use him. H e was staggered by the
extent of his cruelty, horrified th a t in whatever life, in whatever
persona, he was capable of rape and murder.
"I suspect you've paid for it," I said.
"In a n o th e r life?"
"Precisely. In th at life you rem ained unscathed. You m ust
have been afraid som ebody w ould take revenge on you"— he
n o d d e d — "b u t n o b o d y did. T h e fear th a t you felt when you
looked over your shoulder isn't co m m ensurate w ith the terror
you experience today."
H e to o k a deep breath and exhaled w ith a sigh. "T h e n let's go
back again."
It was to the time of the G reat Fire. Jo h n was a wealthy m erchant

w ho neglected his wife and their tw o children in favor of c o u n t
less affairs. His wife had left him, preferring to go penniless
rather th a n stay w ith him, and she h ad taken the children with
her. O n e of them , their six-year-old daughter, Alice, was visiting
him , begging for money, when the fire broke out. H e had fallen
into a dru n ken sleep on his bed. His frantic daughter had been
unable to rouse him when she first smelled the flames. It w ouldn't
have d one either o f them any good if she had. T he fire was all-
consum ing, eating the wooden houses of L ondon and everything
else, alive o r inanim ate, they contained, and m aking the cobble
stones so h o t th a t escape was impossible.
"M y first sensation was th a t I could n 't breathe," Jo h n said,
gasping even as he relived it. "T h e smoke was so thick, it was im
possible to see. I could hear Alice screaming as her hair caught
fire, b ut the screams soon stopped. I supposed that, mercifully,
she h a d died. D eath came for me, too, b u t it took its time. The
flames seemed to crawl their way up my body rather th a n taking
me whole. M y legs burned first, then my torso, and only after a
long time my head. It was as th o u g h I was being crucified for sins
like drunkenness and adultery— bad sins, I adm it, but I didn't
seem to deserve such a cruel sentence of death."
In his life review John realized th a t he had com m itted sins re
quiring the harshest pu n ishm ent, only they were from his earlier
life. H e u n dersto o d , too, why his fear was so great. There could
be n o th in g worse th an the agony he h ad experienced in L ondon,
and even the th o u g h t th at it m ight h appen again was unbearable.
R ath er th a n trau m atizin g him further, the visions of his cruelty
and subsequent p u nishm ent by fire ignited in him impulses of
com passion and charity. H e to o k a far greater interest in his p a r
ents' fo u n d atio n , at last channeling his great wealth into projects
he oversaw himself; fittingly, one w as the funding of auxiliary fire
departm ents. H e stopped w om anizing, tried to heal the rift w ith
L auren (unfinished work th a t continues as I w rite this), and took
courses in economics and m anagem ent, expecting one day to
take over the run n in g of the foundation. H e could sleep now, and
w ith it cam e an energy th a t surprised him m ore than it did me.
C om p assio n is energizing.
I continued to see him for m any m onths, not to regress him
but to discuss a lingering depression. H e told me th a t no m a tte r
how m uch he devoted himself to acts of goodness, he couldn't do
enough. I was able to assure him th a t he was on the right p ath and
1 6 2 -------- --- B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
th a t there w ould be other lifetimes when he could p u t w h at he

had learned m ore fully into practice.
N e a r the end of John's therapy sessions, he agreed to have me
progress him into the near and distan t future. Because of the ben
efits of his earlier regressions, he w elcom ed the idea of going for
ward. H e had become an excellent hypnotic subject an d had
experienced vivid p ast life scenes. Perhaps he could do the same
in the future.
Before Jo h n arrived for his progression, I th o u g h t a b o u t the
pow er o f destiny an d free will. In the distan t past, destiny had
m ade him a leader of men; his sway over allies and enemies alike
was e norm ous. Yet he had chosen to use his pow er and wealth for
self-aggrandizement, for the su b ju g atio n of others, for the b e n e
fit of th e few rath er th a n the many. T h a t decision had cost him in
the lives th a t followed, b o th in L o n d o n and in twenty-first-
century Florida. If he had chosen a n o th e r p a th — used his p o si
tion for the benefit o f his com m u n ity an d displayed com passion
an d love— then he w ould have h a d a different series of lives and
w ould never have had to show up in my office, miserable and
afraid. O u r free will sometimes leads us to evil, n o t good; to self
ishness, n o t selflessness; to insularity, n o t com passion; to hate,
n ot love. We m ust learn th a t free will is dangerous if incorrectly
used.
Joh n 's ability to go deep und er hypnosis convinced me th a t his re

p o rts o f his journeys into the fu ture w ould be accurate, m a d e up
of w h a t he had actually experienced ra th er th a n w hat he f a n ta
sized or w anted the future to be. H e h a d the ability to p u t aside
his cognitive m ind, his intellect, in ord er to experience the future
directly, w ith o u t distortion.
O nce again reaching a deep trance level, Jo h n moved a h ead in
time while m aintaining an out-of-body awareness. H e was
quickly approached by tw o wise spiritual beings w ho led him to a
fork in the road th a t indicated the way to future lifetimes. H e tele-
S AMI - . S O U L , M A N Y H O 111 US
pathically "h eard " from the wise m en th a t one of the divergent
paths, the one on the left, was the route he would have taken if he
had no t chosen com passion, charity, and generosity in his current
lifetime. T h e one on the right was his reward for choosing wisely.
1 led him dow n the p a th on the left so he could see w hat fate
he had avoided through his cu rrent actions.
"I'm on a footbridge," he said, "su rro u n d e d by fog. But when
I reach the o th e r side, I can see clearly. I'm a w om an nam ed
D iana, an American. It's maybe a h u n d red , maybe tw o h undred
years from now — no m ore than th a t— an d I'm carrying m y baby
girl h o m e from a laboratory. I'm unhap p ily m arried to a hover
craft pilot w ho has long since stopped loving me and takes his
sexual satisfaction from oth er w om en. So the baby's n ot his. I've
never been pregnant. T he baby is the result of an advanced
cloning procedure. She'll literally be a little me, th o u g h I hope her
life tu rn s o u t m ore happily th a n mine. C loning was perfected be
cause h u m a n fertility and birth rates have declined precipitously
due to the chemical toxins in the food, water, and air. M o st p e o
ple choose the lab m ethod, and I'm glad I did. At least it's n ot my
h usband's child.
"I haven't traveled much, but my husb an d has. H e's been all
over the world in his hovercraft, which can go faster th a n the
speed of sound. W hen he was still speaking to me, he reported
th at farm s and forests have disappeared, th a t 'technology acci
dents' have m ade m any areas uninhabitable, and th a t people live
in huge city-states th a t are often at w ar w ith each other, furth er
p olluting the globe."
Life as D iana described it was n o t so different from now. Peo
ple still suffered from the same problem s and maladies. Science
and technology h a d advanced, as often for ill as for good, but
h u m a n am bitio n and prejudices had n o t changed. T he world was
a m ore dangerous place. Synthetic foods had helped allay hunger,
but pollution threatened fish an d the w ater supply. I b ro u g h t her
ahead in her life, and she began to cry.
"I th o u g h t my dau g h ter w ould be a joy to me, but she turned
164- - --------- B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . I ) .
o u t to be as cold and cruel as my h u sband. I lived to be m ore than

a h u n d red years old, yet each day was a burden, a time of sadness.
D eath was a relief. I was as alone when I died as I was th ro u g h o u t
my life."
I led Jo h n back to the fork in the road. Still in a deep state, he
u n d e rsto o d immediately th a t he had learned how his L o n d o n
wife felt w hen he, the wealthy m erchant, h a d neglected her. It was
exactly w hat he felt when he became D ian a an d her h u sb an d d e
serted her.
Jo h n knew, however, th a t D ia n a was a figure in a life he would
n o t follow. H e had chosen the road o n the right, and I led him
alo n g it now.
" I'm th e p resident of a prestigious university in w h a t h a d
been A m erica before all n a tio n a l b o u n d a rie s disap p eared . I'm
im m ensely rich, b u t I live sim ply w ith m y wife an d three chil
d ren in a h o u se o n the cam p u s. I use my m oney for sc h o la r
ships, a ttra c tin g the m o st talen ted peo p le in the a rts a n d
sciences to the university. I love w o rk in g w ith them ; their young
m in d s are full o f fresh an d innovative ideas. Together, they an d
I a n d th e fine faculty th a t teaches th em look for ways to create
unity a m o n g the people o f the e a r th by en couraging an e m p h a
sis o n th e similarities a n d n o t th e differences betw een th em . I
am a re n o w n ed m a n , but th a t m ean s n o th in g c o m p a re d to the
joy I get from life."
Joh n 's visit to this future was short; he w ould enjoy it fully
when it was time for him to go there. I instructed him to go be
yond these tw o path s to a m ore distan t future. H e grinned h a p
pily, still in his deep state. "W hich place d o you w ant me to go?"
he asked. "I can tra n sp o rt myself anyw here I wish. People d o n 't
need bodies anym ore, th o u g h they can have th em if they feel like
it. It's fun for sports, say, an d surely for sex. But we can go a n y
where an d be anyone by using visualization and tho u g h t. We
co m m u n icate through consciousness an d also thro u g h light
auras."
H is ow n pleasure delighted me. "From the way you describe
SAME SOUL, M ANY B O D I E S ------------ — 165
it, this m ust be in the very, very d istan t future," I said, "m an y
th o u san d s of years from now."
" N o ," he answered, "n o t so d istant as you think, th o u g h I
can't tell you the year. T he e a rth is very lush and green." (Again,
this m irrored m any of the oth er reports I was hearing.) "I can't
see m an y people, but this may be because m o st d o n 't wish to have
bodies; they're hap p y being consciousness and light. T h e w orld is
a transcendentally peaceful place, w ith n o h in t of war, violence,
misery, or grief. I've been able to scan the p lan et for negative e m o
tions; n one exist. There's no evidence of anger, hatred, o r fear.
Just peace."
H e could have stayed for h o u rs in the future he was experi
encing in my office, but by my w atch it was a m o rn in g at the b e
ginning of the twenty-first century a n d there was another patient
in m y w aiting room , so I h a d to brin g him back. W hen he cam e
for his next session, he told me th a t he d id n 't w an t to return to the
far future. "It was too beautiful," he said. "I have to live in the
present, and for now that's beautiful enough."
Jo h n knew he had learned valuable lessons over his lifetimes
and th a t there were m any still to be learned. H e realized th a t the
choices he h a d recently m ade w ould profoundly affect his futures
but th a t in those futures he w ou ld have to m ake different, equally
im p o rta n t choices to reach the glories he h a d visualized in his
travels far ahead. "But my choices alone w o n 't produce th a t fu
ture," he said. "It is the collective decisions of all h u m an s th a t
will get us there."
Perhaps so. A nd perhaps th a t tim e is, as Jo h n has seen, "n o t
so d ista n t as you think."
CHAPTER 1 1
Contemplation and
Meditation
am daily m aking myself w h at I a m ." T h e q u o te comes from
I R o b ert T h u r m a n , the em inent B uddhist scholar a t C o lu m b ia

University, an d to me it is an energizing thought. I love the c o n
cept of process an d flux th a t it implies.
Every day you are new. Your thoughts, your intentions and
actions, your awareness and perceptions are constantly evolving,
a n d w ith each shift a different you emerges. You are n o t th e sam e
perso n you were five years ago o r even five minutes ago. A nd nei
ther are your loved ones, your friends, o r your acquaintances.
O n e result is th a t often we react to the old perso n — a n d they
react to us— as we once knew them , so that, for example, the high
school bully remains a bully to us w hen we see him again even
th o u g h he m ight have found spiritual peace and is the mildest
m annered of men.
So evolution isn 't m uch g o o d if you a re n 't aware of it. H o w
can you m a tu re if you d o n 't see th e process a t w ork ? H o w c an you
learn fro m life if you d o n 't sto p to experience it? H o w c an you
e m b o d y all th a t has h ap p en ed to you physically an d psychologi
cally if you d o n 't give your b o d y a n d m in d the tim e to ingest it?
H o w can you change as your friends a n d loved ones change?
— 166
SAME SOUL, M ANY BODIES —
17
T h e way to assess ourselves and others is thro u g h relaxed

spiritual contem plation and m ed itatio n , an d the time to sta rt is
in the present. T here is a difference between them , although they
are close kin. C o n tem p latio n m eans concentrating on a specific
subject o r object— the idea of loving kindness, for exam ple, or
the beauty of a butterfly. M e d ita tio n requires keeping the m ind
completely blank, in a state of mindfulness o r awareness, free to
accept whatever feelings, ideas, images, or visions enter it an d let
ting associations flow to all aspects of the object or th o u g h t— to
u n d e rsta n d its form, shape, color, essence. It is the a rt of observ
ing w ith o u t th o u g h t, w ith o u t m ental co m m en t. It is far easier for
the W estern m ind to practice con tem p latio n . We are used to fo
cusing o u r brains on a given subject, thin k in g ab o u t it, an d a n a
lyzing it. M e d ita tio n is m ore of an Eastern concept, difficult to
grasp an d requiring a great deal of practice. It takes m o n th s or
years to be able to m editate whole-mindedly, an d you m ight n o t
be able to fully m aster it in this one lifetime. T h a t do esn 't m ean,
however, th a t you sh o u ld n 't try m ed itatin g now. (Remember: In
this life, as in all others, you are consciously progressing tow ard
immortality.) T h e a tte m p t itself brings its ow n p ro fo u n d re
w ards, an d you will soon find yourself looking forw ard to the
tim e of aloneness th a t m ed itatio n requires.
You m ight w an t to start w ith contem p latio n , and the object to

concentrate o n is yourself. To find o u t w ho you are now, think of
yourself in the m om ent. Let whatever th o u g h ts you have a b o u t
yourself, good and bad, enter your consciousness. W hich n e g a
tive o r judgm ental images an d feelings w ould you discard as n o
longer accurate or valid? W hich positive an d self-healing im pres
sions an d feelings w ould you now add? W h a t life experiences
have shaped you m ost profoundly? W hen you have a n o th e r life,
w h at d o you imagine w ould change from this one? T he p o in t is
n o t to "like" yourself or, indeed, pass judgm ent of any kind. You
IMS ---------- B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
are trying to see w hat is really there beneath the camouflage of

the person you show to the world.
C onsider the significant people in your life. Are your images
of th em outdated? H as your ow n experience ta u g h t you to look
at th em differently? H ow have they changed as you yourself have
changed? H o w will these changes lead you to modify your rela
tionship w ith them in a m ore positive, understanding, an d loving
m anner? H o w will they facilitate fu rth e r change?
We are all works in progress, m oving at different speeds along
o u r spiritual paths. But daily we should pause to involve the cre
ative m ind on the core concepts th a t can shape us as h u m a n s
w ishing to rise tow ard the One: love, joy, peace, and G od.
C o n te m p la tio n and m editation aren 't easy, for the furth er inward
you go, the m ore deeply felt will be your u n d erstanding, an d
going deep requires digging th ro u g h layers of defenses. We are so
disciplined to th in k and analyze th a t a ttem p ts to clear or em pty
the m ind defy o u r training. Yet analysis is counter to c o n te m p la
tion an d m editation, and we m ust shed it as we begin to explore.
It isn't enough to say to yourself, "I'm ridding my m ind o f all
things except the n o tio n of loving kindness," or, going further,
"I'm ridding my m ind of all th o u g h ts whatsoever and am aware
of n o th in g an d everything at once." In b o th cases you will find
yourself distracted by the outside world. You m ight be able to
th in k a b o u t loving kindness for a while, bu t I'll bet th a t soon you
will rem em b er a time when you w eren't kind or som eone w asn 't
kind to you, an d from th a t m ight com e the thought: "M y God!
It's M o th e r's birthday, and I forgot to call her" or some o th e r n o
tion th a t whisks you back to everyday matters. And if you try to
blank your m ind entirely, you'll alm o st surely find it filling w ith
m u n d a n e distractions: your nose itches or there is a housefly in
the ro o m or the th o u g h t th a t if you keep sitting much longer,
you'll miss the rerun of Seinfeld.
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES — 169
T he present discussion is mostly a b o u t m editation, but m uch of

w hat follows is applicable to co n te m p la tio n as well.
M e d ita tio n stills the chatter th a t norm ally fills o u r minds,
and the resulting quiet allows us to observe w ith o u t judgm ent, to
reach a higher level of d etachm ent, a n d eventually to becom e
aware o f a higher state of consciousness.
A simple exercise can d e m o n stra te how difficult it is to keep
your m in d devoid o f th oughts, feelings, to-do lists, physical dis
com forts, everyday worries, or h o usehold or business concerns.
After reading this p arag rap h , close your eyes for a m inute o r
two. (I suggest sitting in a favorite chair or on a com fortable cush
ion o r in bed. Be as com fortable as possible.) Take a few deep
breaths, exhaling away all the stresses and tensions you carry
aro u n d in your body. Try to keep your m ind calm and th in k of
nothing, n o t even beautiful sunsets o r gentle seas. T h e object is to
still your left brain, the p a rt th a t thinks and analyzes. Ready?
Begin now.
It d id n 't w ork, did it?
You probably had several m o m en ts of relaxation a n d p le a
sure, b ut then you m ight have th o u g h t a b o u t how silly you looked
h olding an open b o o k w ith your eyes closed. A nd then perh ap s
a b o u t a report: W ould you m ake the deadline for it? O r did you
forget the m in t jelly for the leg of lam b you are serving your
guests tonight? T h e stresses o f today's w orld seem to in trude c o n
stantly into o u r daily lives, a n d in an artificial-seeming environ
m en t— in solitude in a d arkened silent ro o m — they seem to
p u m m el us. U nder this barrage of stress the physical body seems
to function at a higher level of alertness— the so-called fight-or-
flight reaction— triggering a ho st o f psychological reactions. You
m ight even feel fear, thin k in g th a t the silence is som ehow th re a t
ening. (M any o f us tu rn on the radio o r television as soon as we
get ho m e, often to ward off the dread of the assault of th o u g h ts
ro B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
or memories.) So how long have you been sitting still? Five m in

utes? It seems a good start, you tell yourself, though you kn o w it
isn't. Perhaps you'll be able to give yourself an o th er m inute o r so
tom orrow , as th o u g h m editation was som ething to endure.
M a y b e , you tell yourself th e n e x t day, ra th e r th a n m e d ita te
you'll c o n te m p la te . N o t yourself— it is to o d an g e ro u s ro begin
there— b u t, as Dr. Weiss suggests, you'll co n c e n tra te on loving
kindness. C o n te m p la tio n , you have read, will engage your m in d ,
lead in g you to a deeper u n d e rs ta n d in g o f k indness in to d ay 's ses
sion, since th a t is its subject, a n d eventually leading to yourself
a n d th e life a ro u n d you. A nd u n d e rs ta n d in g leads to freed o m ,
joy, self-fulfillment, an d better relationships: th a t is, happiness.
To con tem p late a th o u g h t o r concept is to focus on its m e a n
ing, an d , as noted, it is easier th a n em ptying the m ind an d o b
serving, the essence o f m editation. As you focus, different levels
of m e an in g will emerge. Also, your m ental associations w ith the
core object o r concept will lead you do w n furth er avenues of in
sight and understanding. It is okay to think during c o n te m p la
tion as long as you keep your focus.
W h a t images does the term loving kindness conjure up? Per
haps a p e rso n (your m other? g randm other?) or som e act you did
spontaneously or some act you were th e recipient of? M ay b e a
feeling, a w a rm th th a t pervades your body and brings forth a tear
of happiness? O n ce you have located the image or feeling, you'll
com e to an un d erstan d in g of the m o re general definition o f the
phrase. Loving kindness is a spiritual act, an d to focus on the
spiritual can be extremely rewarding.
Your entire value system will change for th e better if loving
kindness resides at the base o f it. You will find th a t fears a n d a n x
ieties are reduced or even eliminated. Your th o u g h t process will
lead you from your basic definition to a clearer un d erstan d in g of
your spiritual nature. (You see, you are co ntem plating yourself
after all!) In time, with the awareness of w hat th a t spiritual
essence is, a sense of inner peace, patience, balance, an d h a r
m ony will manifest itself in your daily life.
S A M E S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S -----------------—
171
Physical benefits also accrue. With the dim inution of fear and
anxiety a n d the arrival of inner tranquility, the body is strength
ened. T he im m u n e system is enhanced. I have seen chronic ill
nesses alleviated in the bodies of patients whose minds are at
peace. Some people have n o ted energy shifts when insights and
u n d erstandings emerge. T h e m in d a n d body are so intimately
connected th a t healing one heals the other.
Sometimes when you focus on a concept, you may discover th a t

w hat comes up differs from w h at your training, education, o r his
tory has ta u g h t you. This is to be expected since we have all been
indoctrin ated w ith the belief systems an d values of o u r families,
teachers, cultures, and religions. T h a t you now see things in a
new way will n o t h u rt you. Keeping an open mind is essential. If
you can a ttu n e your m ind to different ideas an d new possibilities,
then the learning process can continue.
Perhaps w hat you were ta u g h t as a baby o r child is n o t w h at
you are experiencing now. H o w can you kn o w unless your m in d is
active a n d aware? H o w can you awaken to a deeper o r m ore
m eaningful reality unless you allow your m ind to function in an
open manner, m aking no judgm ents until you have m entally
tested every o p tio n for yourself? Try n o t to dismiss or discard
ideas or brush aside w hat you experience because they are differ
ent from w hat you were led to believe. It is possible th a t the
strange m ight be true, the fam iliar false.
W hen you contem plate, tak e your time. By definition, c o n
te m p latio n implies an u n h u rrie d m ental focus. Your m in d m ust
reflect on its responses and p e rh ap s ad d an o th e r reflection an d re
sponse to the first— an d then a n o th e r a n d another. You may find
m em ories p o p p in g into your awareness like stars in the early
evening sky. You may experience sudden clarifying insights w ith
their a tte n d a n t healing effects.
I recom m end contem p latin g one thing at a time, to ensure
th a t you provide the p roper d ep th an d d u ratio n to your experi
n ---------------- B R I A N L . W E I S S , M . D .
ence. Even then it is unlikely th a t one session will bring you to the
core of the object or concept being contem plated. You can and
should return to the object or concept until you m aster it, fully
u n d e rsta n d it, and are aware of the changes w ithin you th a t it has
w rought. It is then th a t you will be am azed an d delighted at the
beauty an d power of your insights, liberated by the healing ef
fects of your understanding.
W h en you believe you have found the core, d o n 't stop your
con tem p latio n . Begin a new c o n tem p latio n o n the same concept
the following day. Close your eyes an d take a few relaxing
breaths. Imagine you can actually exhale the tensions and stresses
in your body and th a t you are inhaling pure, healing energy.
Relax your muscles and let the core of the concept or object re a p
p ear in your awareness. For approxim ately the next ten m inutes
consider all the levels of m eaning th a t this th o u g h t o r object
holds for you. Loving kindness is a pro fo u n d spiritual concept,
b ut there is profundity, too, in a butterfly's beauty. C o nsider the
implications. H o w will your life change w ith new understanding?
Your relationships? Your values? Take your time. T here is no
h u rry an d no test a t the end. Savor your insights and instructions.
Rem ind yourself th a t you'll rem em ber everything you are experi
encing.
If your m ind w anders an d you lose focus, d o n 't criticize your
self. It is n o rm a l for your th o u g h ts to drift away, and all you need
to d o is gently return to the subject. After some practicing, you
will notice th a t even when your m in d strays, there is still a c o n
nection to the original thought; in psychiatry we call this free as
sociation. T h e m ore you practice, the easier it is to m ain tain
focus an d the deeper and m ore pro fo u n d your understandings
are. So try to let any frustrations float away, but d o n 't com pel
yourself to sit and contem plate if the outside world is to o much
w ith you. Try again tomorrow. Pleasure is a vital co m p o n e n t to
co ntem plation and m editation. T h e p u rp o se is to becom e free,
n o t to chain yourself to the process.
SAME SOUL, M AN Y B O D I E S ------— 173
After you have finished an d your eyes have opened an d your

m ind has returned to everyday consciousness, you m ight w a n t to
record your experience in a jo u rn al or on tape. This is a way to so
lidify your thoughts and aid your m e m o ry for future insights.
M a n y people find it fascinating to return to the concept
weeks o r m o n th s after they have "m astered" it and to com pare
this journey w ith the previous one. T here are no rules in this re
gard. Trust your intuitive w isdom . As the Christian mystic Pierre
Teilhard de C h ardin said, "You are n o t a h u m a n being having a
spiritual experience; you are a spiritual being having a h u m a n ex
perience." T here is m eaning in everything, and purity o f spirit
w hen you find it.
As rew arding as contem p latio n is, m editation is still the m eans

for going as deeply into the spiritual realm as is hum an ly possi
ble. H ere you are n o t b o u n d by a single concept or confined by
concentration. Rather, you are saying to your m ind, body, and
soul, "You are free to go wherever you w an t in your search for
spiritual progression. You are n o t constrained by time o r place
but can travel to the p ast or to the future, to lands k n o w n o r u n
k n o w n , to places as small as th e h u m a n h e a rt or as vast as the
universe."
Believe me, there is no m o re inspiring journey.
I have w ritten a b o o k entirely o n m editation (M editation:
A chieving Inner Peace a n d Tranquility in Your Life), yet I have
n o t com e close to achieving the w isd o m an d spiritual peace de
scribed by the yogis an d m o n k s of Asia w ho have spent their e n
tire lives devoted to it. For m e a n d for you the po in t is n o t to reach
meditative "perfection" b ut to get as m uch o u t of the practice as
we can, to use it as one of m an y tools in o u r evolution, to p o in t us
tow ard spirituality, and to help us therapeutically.
Before I m et C atherine, m y medical education had followed
o rth o d o x lines an d my psychiatric train in g had been by-the-book
I"4 — ------B R I A N 1.. W K 1 S S , M . D .
traditional. But after my experience w ith her, I began to explore

alternative therapies; it was d u rin g this quest th a t I learned the
value of m editation.
Like hypnosis, which I use as a tool to regress patients to their
p ast lives, m editation develops the ability to open the m ind to the
deepest, m o st hidden influences o n o u r bodies and souls, w hether
they com e from past, future, o r present lives. Paradoxically, by
thin k in g of nothing, by clearing the m ind, we are free to re m e m
ber. T h e m em ories of past, present, and future lives help us locate
the origins of o u r traum as, an d once they are revealed to us, we
can recognize th a t our fears come from a n o th er place an d are no
longer a threat. I have had m em ories of my own p ast lives d u rin g
deep m ed itatio n and have thereby gained insights into my b ehav
ior, my defenses, and my fears. I would n o t be as self-knowing as
I am today (and there is lots m ore to learn) if I had n o t m editated.
We can also use m editation to resolve personal conflicts and
difficult relationships or to help the h e a rt to heal. But eventually
for all of us the p rim ary p u rp o se o f m editation is to achieve inner
peace an d balance through spirituality.
M o n k s can m editate for hours. You should start w ith tw enty

minutes. Sit comfortably or lie do w n if you wish, though there is
the possibility of falling asleep. Close your eyes; breathe slowly,
regularly, an d deeply; locate any areas of tension in your body
(with me it is the neck and shoulders); an d send your body a m es
sage: Everything is fine. E verything is at peace. Relax.
Let scattered thoughts an d everyday concerns float gently o u t
of your m ind. Block ou t the clam oring voices of w ork, family, o b
ligation, an d responsibility th a t usually assail you— one by one if
necessary. M entally watch th em vanish. Live this m o m e n t, this
precious, unique m o m en t of grace, light, and freedom, by surren
dering to it.
Because the present is the only place you can find happiness,
joy, peace, and freedom, psychospiritual practice emphasizes
S A M E S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S -------- — 1ST
m indfulness of the present m o m e n t such as I have just described.

T h e h u m a n m ind is a creative masterpiece; by giving it rein, it can
tra n sp o rt us to the heights of joy. M indfulness is the awareness of
those thoughts, em otions, feelings, and perceptions th a t are o c
cupying us now and only now. By eliminating the distraction of
the im m ediate p ast and worries a b o u t the future, the act of m e d
itating opens the d o o r to inner peace and health.
By carrying us from everyday awareness into the mindfulness
o f the present m o m en t— only this m om ent, this precise in stan t—
an d th u s into the spiritual values th a t elevate o u r souls, m e d ita
tion frees us to go anywhere. A long the way we may gain clarity
a b o u t a present tra u m a , a p a st o r future life, or an unconscious
denial of the nature of o u r problems. T h a t is m editation's th e ra
peutic value; the unaw are becom es aware. But it may simply illu
m inate the reality of the beauty of the m o m en t an d all the
w o n d er it contains. This is w h at is called insight, and it is how we
com e to ultim ate reality.
H ere is an illustration of mindfulness:

I was teaching a p a tie n t of mine, Linda, how to meditate.
O n e day she cam e to me in great excitement. "I just saw the m ost
beautiful tree!" she said.
"W here?" I asked, intrigued.
"Why, in front of my house."
M e d ita tio n had opened Linda's eyes to the beauty th a t had
been w ithin her reach all the tim e, only she had neglected to see
it. L inda, a grade school teacher, was habitually rushing because
she was late to her classes, b u t m editation h a d ta u g h t her to slow
dow n.
Stephan Rechtschaffen, the director o f the O m eg a Institute in
Rhinebeck, N e w York, tells o f the time when he was in his office
discussing a business pro b lem w ith a colleague. It was a beautiful
spring day, and from his w in d o w he could see a guest at the insti
tute, the Vietnamese B uddhist m o n k and philosopher T hich
6--------------------- - - - B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
N h a t H a n h , w alking across the lawn. "W ith each step, he was

kissing the earth. H e was totally present, obviously im m ersed
only in the act of walking. I could alm ost feel him savoring each
m o m e n t, feel the sensation of grass on sole, feel the way his body
seemed at one w ith each m o v e m e n t."i:'
Thich N h a t H a n h was living in the m om en t, just as Linda
had learned to do. "In us," the m o n k writes, "there is a river of
feelings, in which every dro p of w ater is a different feeling, and
each feeling relies on all the others for its existence. To observe it,
we just sit on the b ank of the river an d identify each feeling as it
surfaces, flows by, and disappears."
W hen we meditate, we are sitting o n th a t riverbank.
In M editation: Achieving Inner Peace and Tranquility in Your

Life, I share a message th a t cam e to me in a m editation which
m ight be similar to one of your own:
W ith love an d un d erstan d in g comes the perspective of

infinite patience. W hat's your hurry? There is no time,
anyway; it only feels th a t way to you. W hen you're n o t
experiencing th e present, w hen you're absorbed in the
p a st o r worried a b o u t the future, you bring great
h eartach e and grief to yourself. T im e is an illusion, too.
Even in the three-dim ensional world, the future is only
a system of probabilities. W hy d o you w orry so?
T h e p ast m ust be rem em bered an d then forgotten.
L e t it go. This is true for childhood an d past-life tr a u
m as; b ut it's also true for attitudes, misconceptions,
an d belief systems th a t have been d ru m m e d into you,
a n d for all old thoughts— indeed, for all thoughts. H o w
can you see freshly an d clearly w ith those thoughts?
F r o m T i m e S hi fti ng, D o u b le d a y , 1996.

S A M E S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S ----- —
187
W h a t if you needed to learn som ething new, and w ith a

fresh perspective?
Stop thinking. Instead, use your intuitive w isd o m to
experience love again. M ed itate. See th a t everything is
interconnected. See your tru e self. See God.
M editatio n and visualization will help you to stop
thin k in g so much and will help you begin the journey
back. H ealing will occur. You will begin to use your u n
used mind. You will see. You will understand. A nd you
will grow wise. T h e n there will be peace.
T h e only thing I'd add now is w h a t I've learned since the passage
was written: You will n o t only begin the journey back, bu t you
will begin the journey into th e future.
M e d ita tio n can help us tap into the healing powers w ithin us, n ot
only psychic healing b ut physical healing as well. M o re an d more,
physicians are acknow ledging th a t we can fight diseases, even
very serious ones, w ith a recently discovered medicine: the c u ra
tive powers th a t lie w ithin o u r spiritual nature. (Recently discov
ered in the West, th a t is; E astern doctors have k n o w n a b o u t it for
centuries.) Perhaps this is tru e holistic medicine where we ener
gize the entire organism — th e m ind an d spirit as well as the body.
T here is by now am ple proof. In H ead First: The Biology o f
H o p e and the H ealing Power o f the H u m a n Spirit (D utton,
1989), N o r m a n Cousins detailed how em otions affect the im
m u n e system; researchers at H a rv a rd have found th a t m editation
can p ro lo n g life in the elderly; an d doctors in England found th a t
diet, exercise, and the practice of stress-reduction techniques, of
which m editation is a m o n g the m o st im p o rta n t, can actually re
verse coro n ary artery disease. Diet and exercise alone w o n 't d o it.
T h e power of prayer o n healing has also been d o c u m e n te d —
n o t only one's own prayers a n d prayers by family and friends but
I " 8 ----------------B R I A N L. W K I S S , M . D .
the prayers of strangers. In 1982, for instance, 393 patients in the

co ro n a ry care unit of San Francisco General H ospital were ra n
d om ly selected to either receive or n o t receive intercessory
prayers. N either the patients n o r the doctors an d nurses knew
which g roup was which. T h e patients w ho received prayers had
less need of CPR, mechanical ventilators, diuretics, an d an tib i
otics, an d there were fewer instances of p u lm o n a ry edem a and
even fewer deaths. In a study co nducted by D uke University and
the D u r h a m Veteran Affairs M edical Center, h eart p atients who
were prayed for by seven different religion groups from various
places o f the globe had better ou tcom es th a n those receiving tr a
ditional medical treatm en t alone. A study of patients w ith a d
vanced AIDS found th a t when people prayed for them from afar,
w ith o u t the AIDS victims even kno w in g they were being prayed
for, they experienced fewer an d less severe AIDS-related illnesses,
fewer an d shorter hospitalizations, a n d less depression.
I teach m y patients m editation techniques th a t can reduce in
som nia, help w ith weight control, sm oking cessation, stress re
d u ction, fighting infections, a n d chronic illness, an d lowering
blood pressure. T he techniques w o rk because the chem istry and
physics of the body are influenced by m ental an d physical en e r
gies; regular m editation is a priceless tool for the recovery and
m ainten an ce of health.
M e d ita tio n can open up possibilities for spiritual experiences

since the subconscious m ind is one of the gateways to the eternal
dim ension. T h e gateway is never wide open, and there are no
signs th a t advise us where the ro ad will lead. N o code o r magic
w ord will open it; it is an interior process of transform ing an d
being transform ed. Put differently, the m ind is a passage, and
th ro u g h m editation you will in tim e be possessed of a m ap by
which you will be able to find your way along th a t passage into
deeper, m ore transcendent states.
SAME SOUL, M ANY B O D I E S ---------------- — 179
M ed itatio n might bring you to a heightened awareness of

your spiritual essence and to a state of profound ecstasy, light
ness, satisfaction, and well-being th a t comes when we contact
o u r deepest dimension. M e d ita tio n allows a feeling of bliss to
spread th ro u g h you when you are contem plating a concept or o b
ject th a t gives you pleasure. It may bring you back to a past life or
ah ead to a future one; the lessons of each will be clear to you
when you enter them.
W h en you come to awareness, you will find yourself c o m p a s
sionate an d loving w ith o u t expecting anything in return. You will
feel a oneness w ith every o th e r person and being, w ith nature,
w ith the sky and sea— w ith all there is. For however long you are
in this altered state, you will experience the ultim ate "high," a
feeling unique in each individual yet co m m o n to the souls w ho
are furth er along on their evolutionary journey. Some of my p a
tients have told me th a t d u rin g m editation they detach from their
physical bodies an d float above themselves, w atching themselves
from an o th e r realm, the sam e out-of-body experience repo rted
by people who have returned from n ear death. You may share
th a t experience or have adventures as yet unrep o rted by anyone.
O n e thing is certain: You will discover your m ost powerful and
essential self.
CHAPTER 12
David:
Spirituality
hen I was a young boy, I w ould go to tem ple w ith my

V V fath er on Saturday m o rn in g and watch the old men
sway a n d rock (daven) as they recited their prayers. T hese were
always the same prayers, m y father told me, said th ro u g h o u t
the day, m orning, sundow n, a n d night. I did n 't u n d e rsta n d the
language o f the prayers, H ebrew, but, m ore fundamentally,
I c o u ld n 't u n d erstan d the reason for them. "It d o esn 't m ake
sense," I th o u g h t. "T h e words c a n 't continue to have m eaning
after so m an y years, and by this tim e the swaying an d bow ing
c a n 't be m ore th a n physical exercise."
A fter Catherine, I u n d ersto o d . T h e men were p u ttin g th e m
selves in an altered state, just as I p u t patients un d er hypnosis. I
d o n 't th in k it m attered w hat th e c o n ten t of the w ords was; it was
the ritual th a t m attered. T h e m en were m ak in g a connection w ith
G o d , a n d the ritual— as w ith all religious rituals, n o m a tte r w hat
the religion— enabled them to becom e m ore spiritual. W h e th e r
one is Jewish, C hristian, Islamic, the object is the same: to com e
closer to the suprem e spiritual being an d , by doing so, to becom e
closer to pure spirituality itself.
To me being spiritual m eans to be m ore com passionate, c a r
180
SAME SOUL, M ANY B O D I E S -------------- — 181
ing, an d kind. It means reaching o u t to people with a loving h eart

w ith o u t expecting anything in return. It means acknow ledging
som ething greater than one's self, a force th a t exists in an u n
k n o w n realm th a t we m ust strive to discover. It means u n d e r
standing th a t there are higher lessons to he learned and, after we
have learned them , kno w in g th a t there are higher lessons still.
T h e capacity for spirituality is in each of us, and we m ust tap
into it.
I've seen religious people com m ittin g acts of violence
and inciting others to acts of war. Kill, they say, for those you
attack d o no t share our beliefs an d thus are our enemies. These
people haven't learned the lesson th a t there is bu t one universe,
one soul. To me their a ttitu d e is completely Mwspiritual, no
m a tte r w hat the religion espouses. Indeed, it m arks the difference
between religion and spirituality. You do n o t need religion to be
spiritual; you can be an atheist an d still be kind and co m p a ssio n
ate. You can d o volunteer w ork, for example, n o t because G od
co m m a n d s you but because doin g it makes you feel good and you
think this is the way h u m a n beings should act tow ard one a n
other, th a t this is the way to progress tow ard the higher realm.
M y conception of G o d is o f a loving, wise energy th a t is in
every cell of o u r bodies. I d o n o t see him as the standard cliche of
a m an w ith a beard sitting o n a cloud m aking judgments. (In psy
choanalytical term s, this is projection, the an th ro p o m o rp h iz in g
of God.) T h e im p o rta n t question regarding spirituality is no t
which G o d you follow b ut are you true to your soul? Are you liv
ing a spiritual life? Are you a kind person here on ea rth , getting
joy from your existence, causing n o h arm , an d doin g good to
others?
This is the essence of life, essential to o u r journey upw ard,
an d it d o esn 't seem com plicated. But too m an y o f us haven't yet
m astered these lessons of spirituality. We are selfish, m aterialis
tic, an d lacking in em p ath y an d com passion. O u r urge to do
good is subsum ed by o u r desire to be physically comfortable.
192 - R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
B
A nd as goodness and selfishness battle within us, we becom e c o n

fused an d unhappy.
T h a t is the way it was w ith David, as you'll see.
David's family was patrician, from old N ew England stock, and

he h a d com e all the way from B oston to see me. H e had heard of
the w o rk I was doing and h a d found one of my regression CD s
helpful in relaxing him, th o u g h he h a d n o t experienced a past
life. Besides, he had tried conventional psychotherapy, a n d it had
d o n e him little good.
"I have planned to stay a w eek," he said. "C a n we accom plish
an y th in g in th a t time?"
"We can try," I replied, n o tin g the impeccable cut o f his
trousers a n d the polo pony insignia on his shirt. "I can schedule
you for three sessions. But we c a n 't d o anything until you tell me
w h a t b ro u g h t you here."
To m y surprise, the question seemed to puzzle him. " I'm n ot
sure," he said at last. "I'm — I'm unhappy."
"Professionally? Personally?"
"B oth . . . N either."
"W hich?"
" T h e p o in t is I shouldn't be unhappy."
"U nhappiness isn't a m a tte r o f 'sh o u ld .' It's a state of m ind."
"Yes, of course. O nly w hen I th in k a b o u t my life, which is far
m o re frequently th a n I'd wish, I c a n 't see a single thing to be u n
h a p p y a b o u t."
"Your profession?" I asked.
"Attorney. I w ork in my father's firm, and I've been doing
well. M a d e p a rtn e r in tw o years, an d if I say so myself, it w asn 't
because of nepotism ."
Still, there's often friction w hen a son w orks for a p a re n t. "D o
you find it u n c o m fo rta b le being a cco u n tab le to your father?"
" N o t a t all," he said emphatically, pun ctu atin g his words
w ith a little clap of his hands. "M y father lets me operate inde
SAME S O U L , M A N Y BODIES — 193
pendently. H e brought me u p to be my own m an, and so did my

mother. H e never second-guesses me and hardly ever sees me in
the office. I think I spend m ore time with him socially th a n I d o at
w ork."
W hen psychiatrists begin the search for the root of a patient's
problem , they often look a t the family first. Was some u n c o n
scious dynam ic at work here th a t David did n ot recognize?
I probed further. "Is your m o th e r alive?"
"And kicking." H e smiled. "She's o n the board of the opera,
the ballet, the M u seu m of Fine Arts. A n d she's a great hostess."
H e raised a h an d , anticipating m y question. "Yes, she h a d plenty
of time for me when I was a kid, and plenty of tim e for my
b ro th er an d sister, too. We have a great relationship."
"You said you see your father socially."
"And my mother, too, o f course. Theirs has been a solid m a r
riage for forty years."
"H o w often?"
"M ay b e once a week. M o re like three times a m o n th ."
"You're married?"
A n o th er h an d clap. "Absolutely. To the divine Leslie."
Was he being ironic? "She's also a lawyer?"
"N o , b ut she's in an allied profession. She's an actress. I m et
her in my second year a t H a rv a rd law. W ent to a p erform ance of
T h e Winter's Tale at the Brattle Street T h eatre a n d was so
knocked o ut by her Perdita th a t I w ent backstage an d asked her
o ut. It's to my everlasting g o o d fortune th a t she said yes then and
yes when I asked her to m a rry m e five years ago."
"D id your parents approve?"
" 'Boston scion weds lowly actress'? I d o n 't kn o w how they
felt at first. As I said, they let me m ake my ow n life choices. But by
now they adore her."
"Any children?"
"N o n e . But th a t w o n 't be true in a n o th er five m onths. A m
niocentesis says it's a boy. Voila. T h e line continues! T h e nam e
carries on!"
184
H e told me all this w ith a sense of pleasure, even of fun. N o w

he leaned forward, and his expression darkened. "Dr. Weiss,
th a t's just the point. I love my parents, had a w onderful child
h o o d , have a spectacular wife, am well educated, well fed, well
clothed an d housed. We have e n ough money to stave off any dis
aster o r to take us anywhere o n the p lanet we w ant to go. I am
truly the m an w ith o u t a care in the world. Yet when I th in k these
things, and even though I kn o w they're true, there's a f u n d a m e n
tal problem : T he m an I've just described isn't the m an living in
side my skin."
This last was accom panied by a sob and a look of anguish so
intense th a t I actually th o u g h t I was facing a different m an. "C an
you be m ore specific?" I asked.
H e recovered w ith an effort. "I wish I could be. W hen I try to
p u t into words how I feel, it so unds like whining. T h e paltry c o m
plaints of an overprivileged narcissist."
"It do esn 't m atter how it sounds, and obviously the c o m
plaints aren 't paltry. You're in pain ."
H e gave me a look of g ra titu d e an d to o k a deep breath .
"Okay. H e re goes: I d o n 't k n o w why I was p u t on this E a rth . I
feel as if I'm skatin g on a frozen p o n d called life a n d th a t u n d e r
n e a th the w ater is a h u n d re d feet deep. I k n o w I sh o u ld sw im in
it, t h a t it'd be good if I co u ld experience it, bu t I d o n 't k n o w how
to b re a k th ro u g h the ice. I'm co n fused a b o u t my place in the
w orld. Yes, I'm h a p p y w o rk in g for m y father, b u t th a t's only one
definition o f me: my fath er's son. I'm m ore. A nd I'm m o re th a n
a n o th e r definition: good h u sb a n d a b o u t to becom e g o o d father.
Jesu s," he w ent on, the w o rd s startlin g ly loud in my office, "I'm
b lo o d y invisible. Life just whistles th ro u g h me like w in d ."
H is need for answers ran deep, I knew. R ath er th a n whiney,
his co m plaints were existential, a cry for a definition he h a d n o t
been able to find.
Perhaps he had been lo oking in the w ro n g place.
S A M E S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S ------— 185
David told mc th a t when he used my CD s at hom e, he generally

got so relaxed th a t he fell asleep. There is n othing w ro n g with
th at; it simply means the person is going too deep. But his earlier
"practice" m ade the hypnotic induction in my office easier.
W ithin minutes he was in a deep trance.
"It's the twelfth century," he said slowly, as th o u g h trying to
peer into his life from the outside. "I'm a nun, Sister Eugenie, and
I w o rk at a hospital o n the outskirts of Paris." H e shuddered.
"It's a dreadful place, d ark a n d cold, and my life is very hard. All
the beds are filled in the ro o m where I w ork, and I kn o w there are
others outside waiting for som eone to die so they can have the
space. T h e patients' bodies are covered w ith blisters— blisters
filled w ith fluid. T he smell is awful. Even in the cold these p o o r
people run high fevers. T h ey sweat and groan. T heir to rm e n t is
terrible to see.
"I d o n 't m in d w o rk in g there. O n e o f the p a tie n ts is an eleven-
year-old girl, an o r p h a n , eyes b rig h t w ith fever, lips p a rc h e d , face
w rin k le d like a m onkey's. We b o th k n o w she's going to die, th a t
th ere's n o th in g I can d o for her. N evertheless, her spirits are
g o o d , she's able to m ake jokes, a n d the o th e r p atien ts love her. I
love her m o st o f all, a n d I b rin g h er w ater a n d w ash her bro w — I
d o this for everyone— w ith a special tenderness.
" O n the day she dies, she looks up at me and says, 'You came
into m y life an d b ro u g h t m e peace. You m ade me happy.' H appy!
C a n you imagine that? T h is p o o r girl, in agony, says she's happy
because of me. I'm n o t sure o f the reason, but I redouble my ef
forts for the other patients, h o p in g I can bring the sam e h a p p i
ness o r at least some peace to th e m as well. And it works! I kn o w
my presence soothes th e m , a n d b onds form between us— spiri
tual bonds, though no n e as stro n g as between m e an d the o rp h a n
girl."
H is face reflected his ow n inner peace as he spoke. H is voice
was gentle, awed, aware of miracles.
"Eventually, I, too, succum bed to the disease. T h e p ain was
excruciating, but th o u g h my body suffered, my m ind an d soul
186 - - B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
were blissful. I knew 1 had led a useful life, and th a t was G od's
p lan for me.
"W h en I die, my soul flows upw ard, tow ard the G o d w ho had
sustained me. I'm enveloped in a golden light an d feel renewed by
his grace. Angelic beings arrive to escort me, greeting me w ith a p
plause an d heavenly songs. O n E a rth I have risked my ow n life to
help others w ith n o th o u g h t of m aterial gain. This was my re
w ard, m o re valuable th a n a king's treasure, m ore precious th a n
emeralds.
"T h ey give me know ledge, an d in exchange I give them
boundless love. T h ro u g h them I u n d e rsta n d th a t helping o thers is
the highest good, and you can imagine my joy when they tell me I
had achieved that. T he length of one's life is n o t im p o rta n t, they
say. T h e n u m b er of days an d years one lives on E arth is insignifi
cant. It's the quality of tho se days and years th a t's im p o rta n t,
quality m easured in loving acts an d achieved w isdom . 'Som e p e o
ple d o m ore good in one day th a n others do in a hu n d red years.'
T his is their message. 'Every soul, every person is precious. Every
person helped, every life aided o r saved, is im m easurably valu
able.'
"Each soul I attended in th a t hospital, belonging to those
w hose bodies had perished before mine, send me their blessings
a n d their love, c o m p o u n d in g m y joy."
David paused. "An incredibly beautiful being differentiates it
self from the chorus of angels," he continued. "It seems to be
m ad e of light, th o u g h it has a distinctively h u m a n form an d
wears p u rp le robes and golden shoes. Its voice— n o t distinguish
able as a m an's or a w om an's— has the autho rity of great w is
d o m ."
W h en I led him back to the present, he was still u n d e r the
pow er o f his vision, still filled w ith awe an d enlightenm ent. "Let's
call th a t being the Source," he told me, "because it was obvious
th a t the lessons the angels ta u g h t m e were ta u g h t to them by it.
'W h e n you need aid, you can invoke it through m editation and
prayer whenever you need in any incarn atio n ,' the Source in
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES -------- — 1ST
structed me directly. 'An o pen an d loving heart, seeking a higher

good w ith o u t selfish motive, w ith o u t any shadow of negativity
or h arm , can invoke a powerful manifesting energy in ord er to ac
com plish its goals. This is o u r right as spiritual entities. This is an
essence of o u r spirituality. T his is the invocation of grace.' "
H e shook his head in w onder. "I've never had such th o u g h ts
in my life," he said. "I'm n o t religious. D o n 't believe in G o d and
d o n 't have the foggiest idea w h at p a r t of me the Source cam e
from . T h e idea th a t I was once a nun— it seems preposterous."
"It was a life you lived," I said. "Surely an im p o rta n t one,
since you got to it so quickly an d it was so vivid."
"It co uldn't have been a fantasy," he agreed. "It's to o rem ote
fro m anything I've im agined in the p ast."
"So you think it's real?"
H e held up a hand. "W hoa! I w o u ld n 't go th a t far. But I'll tell
you this, Dr. Weiss. It was the m ost amazingly moving experience
I can remember."
"M ay b e Sister Eugenie is the person inside your skin," I said.
"M ay b e she's the David you're looking for."
H e th o u g h t for a m o m en t. "W e'll have to see, w o n 't we?" T he
session was over. H e sto o d a n d then clapped his hands. "W h at's
next?"
W h en he came back tw o days later, he told me the p ast life had

stayed in his m ind from th e m o m e n t he left, an d he felt he h a d ex
perienced a kind of epiphany. H e was very curious now a b o u t the
"n e x t," and he virtually flung himself into the chair.
W ithin minutes he was tra n sp o rte d back som e 140 years to
th e A m erican Civil War. T his tim e he stayed outside his vision,
a lth o u g h he saw it clearly. H e was a young m an on the U nion side,
an infantry soldier w ho spent his days either m arching o r fight
ing. "It's battle after battle," he said. "Each one w orse th a n the
last. I'm afraid to m ake friends because I'm sure they'll be killed
o r w ounded. T h at's w h a t hap p en s to all of them: m utilated or
1 8 8 ----------------B
- R I A N L. W E I S S , M . I ) .
killed. T h e men we're fighting, they're no t o u r enemies, they're

o u r brothers. T he only reason we shoot at them is so they w o n 't
shoot us first. 1 try to save as m an y of my com rades as I can, help
th em find shelter or give them food or water. I do the sam e for our
enemies when it's possible." H e cast his eyes down as th o u g h try
ing n o t to see. "It's all so senseless and sad. It's impossible to tell
victory from defeat. Brother killing brother interminably. Over
what? An acre? A stream? A n idea?"
H e seemed suddenly sad an d old. "I did n 't survive the war,
either. I just gave up and let myself be killed by w alking into the
battle from behind a tree. I d id n 't have the energy to fight or the
sto m ach to kill anymore. It was a kind of assisted suicide." H e
sighed resignedly. "Wars, epidemics, earthquakes— all of nature's
disasters or man's. Calamities th a t kill hundreds o r hu n d red s of
th o u sa n d s— the cost is incalculable." H is tone became confiden
tial. "Som e, which seem unavoidable, are really not. T h ey can be
m itigated by o u r own consciousness, by o u r collective th o u g h ts
an d intentions. T h e others, which seem avoidable, only require
the will to prevent them ."
H e was talking a b o u t saving lives by preventing violence, but
did he m ean th a t natural disasters could be prevented by the use
of h u m a n will? I w asn't sure, a n d David, when he retu rn ed to the
present, d id n 't know, either. Perhaps future regressions w ould
help him explain.
Before he left on this day, David glimpsed some scenes of a
p ast life in C hina m any centuries ago (he could n o t p in p o in t the
year). As soon as he arrived in th a t life, his body began to shake,
an d I asked him if he w anted to com e back.
" N o ," he said quickly. "I'm n o t frightened or sick. Besides,
I'm just watching. I'm an eleven-year-old boy. M y body is shaking
because the ground is shaking. It's an earthquake. M y family is
rich, an d they built the strongest house possible. But it c a n 't stand
against nature's force. T h e walls are crumbling. I h e a r the
screams of my parents, of m y b ro th er an d sister. Frantic, I race to
help them , but it's too late. M y little sister is barely alive, an d I
S A M E S O U L , M A N Y B O D I E S -----------— 189
hold her in my arm s until she dies. I run to an o th er room . It does

no good. T h e walls collapse, a n d I die w ith the rest of th em ."
A lm ost as soon as David entered th a t life, he left it. H e had
come simply for the lessons it offered him. "M y life was sh o rt and
happy," he observed w hen he was once again in the present.
"Buildings were flimsy; they c o u ld n 't resist the tremors. In th a t
time the devastation c o u ld n 't have been avoided, n o t w ith the
level of knowledge or awareness then. But now we have the
know ledge, and still people die. It's infuriating. We continue to
build flimsy structures in dan g ero u s areas w ith little plan n in g
an d preparation. A nd I'm n o t talking ab o u t only T h ird World
countries, I'm talking a b o u t America, too! It's n o t the lack of
m o ney that's stopping us b ut the lack of value placed o n h u m a n
life. W e'd rather sacrifice people th a n spend money th a t we have.
Simple safety measures could avoid pain, h u rt, an d even death.
Each life is so im p o rta n t, so special, and yet th o u san d s are sacri
ficed, usually for greed." A n o th e r sigh. "W hen will we learn?"
I h a d n o answer, th o u g h I had been thinking the sam e thing
for years. Perhaps w hen we are all as enlightened as David. Per
haps when we realize th a t w hen one person dies, it is p a r t of our
ow n process of dying. All lives an d souls are connected.
W hen David came back for his final session, we visited tw o a d d i

tional past lives. A gain the th em e in his previous regressions
m anifested itself, an d he w as able to articulate it: T h ere is a
suprem e value in helping o thers because each life, each physical
m anifestation of the soul's journey, is absolutely precious.
In the first past life th a t day he was a d o cto r in the R o m an
Em pire during w hat appeared to him to be an o u tb re a k of the
plague. H e saw himself w ra p p in g bandages aro u n d the legs of
his patients, n ot because of their w ou n d s but because the b a n
dages would ward off fleas which, he deduced, cam e from in
fected rats and carried the hideous disease to hum ans. H e w arned
everyone to stay away from all rats, particularly dead ones (the
1 9 0 ------B
- R I A N L. W E I S S , M . I ).
fleas would leave the corpses), and to keep themselves clean and
indoors as much as possible. H e saved m any lives, but th e epi
demic raged on in the areas where his advice was n o t k n o w n or
n o t followed. Miraculously, he did n o t contract the disease h im
self but lived on to fight oth er illnesses as a revered and respected
physician.
H is next past life m em ory was strongly linked b o th to his life
in the R om an Empire and to the lifetime in France when he was a
nun ministering to smallpox victims. O nce m ore he was in the
M id d le Ages, at a som ew hat earlier time, and again disease was
ra m p a n t— a plague th a t affected m o st of Europe. H e worked
frantically, ministering to the overwhelming num b er o f victims in
the city where he lived (it m ight have been London; he w asn't
sure), but his efforts were feeble against the pandemic. M o re th a n
half of the citizens of the city died, as did his entire family. E x
h austed by his struggles, he becam e despairing an d bitter, and
filled w ith guilt and remorse th a t he h a d failed so often. H e could
see ah ead in th a t lifetime, telling me th a t he lived a n o th e r ten
years, but he never really forgave himself.
"W hy were you so h arsh w ith yourself?" I asked. "T h e re was
n o th in g you could do."
"Because I forgot a b o u t the bandages," he said from his su-
perconscious state, floating above his M iddle Ages body. "T hey
could have kept away the fleas."
I was astonished. H e had b ro u g h t memories of an earlier p ast
life into the M iddle Ages! It was an indication of how closely his
lives were linked and how all o u r p ast lives stay w ith us as we
progress. Few people in the M id d le Ages had the R o m an s' k n o w l
edge th a t fleas from infected rats spread the disease, b ut he felt he
should have tapped into w h at he had learned in R om e and
averted at least some of the deaths, perhaps saving his family as
well.
H e spoke again, still back w ith his medieval body. "I'll m ake
you this promise. In all my future incarnations I'll p ro tect and
SA M E SOUL, M A N Y B O D I E S ---------------- — 191
save as m any people as 1 can. I kn o w there is no death, th a t we're

all im m o rtal, but I'll do w h a t I can to ease the pain of the victims
and survivors to allow the soul's lessons to progress u n im p ed ed ."
H e has kept his prom ise, I th o u g h t, in all but this life. W h at
change would the m em ories inspire now? W ould he find his true
core as a healer?
We were both silent. I w ondered fleetingly if David's presence
was the harbinger of a n o th e r epidemic— th a t seemed to be his
p a tte rn — and then shrugged off the th o u g h t as to o fanciful.
T here was enough time left in the session to explore o th e r life
times. I asked David w h ether he w anted to go to the p a st or the
future.
H is sadness vanished. " O h , the future!"
H e led me slightly m o re th a n one hundred years ahead in
time. In th a t life the quintessential WASP w ho sat facing me was
a rabbi!
"M y nam e is E phraim . I'm at a conference w ith Catholic,
Protestant, H in d u , B uddhist, M uslim , holistic, an d indigenous
ministers an d healers. We m eet frequently, tw o o r three times a
week, to m editate an d pray, creating a h a rm o n io u s energy to
c o m b a t the hate an d violence endem ic to the unenlightened in
habitan ts of the world. O u r n um bers are few, n o m ore th a n fifty,
bu t o u r pow er is great. O u r p u rp o se is to neutralize the E arth-
d a m ag in g energies unknow ingly unleashed by those w ho d o n 't
care o r d o n 't kn o w a b o u t spiritual laws. T h o se energies create
earthquakes, torn ad o es, floods, epidemics. We used to think
these were ra n d o m events. N o w we believe they're spaw ned— or
at least influenced— by the th o u g h ts and intentions of h u m a n
kind. A nd we can prevent them! O u r group goes o u t to teach o th
ers the techniques of the positive prayer and positive m editation
th a t we use. We have th o u sa n d s o f followers. N e x t m o n th is our
fifth ecumenical m eeting o f over twenty-five th o u sa n d w ho be
lieve as we do; they will bring back o u r teachings to their own
countries across the globe. T hese conferences transcend physical
IV2 B R IA N I . Wl'ISS, M . n .
and psychological boundaries in order to achieve peace, h a r

mony, an d com passion for all the inhabitants of the world and for
the planet itself."
His eyes were sparkling. "It's working! We're able to measure
positive effects on the E arth's climate. T he globe is cooling for the
first time in centuries. Sum mers and winters are less severe. C a n
cer rates have gone dow n."
In one of his regressions David had alluded to the possibility
of th o u g h t influencing n atu ral phenom ena. In this future he had
apparently mastered the concept and m ade teaching it his life's
work.
"I've learned how to teach others the way to invoke beings of
higher consciousness," he confided in a tone of awe. (I th o u g h t of
Sister Eugenie's past life experience.) "By com m unicating w ith a
clear and com passionate heart, by seeking a higher spiritual
good, we can solicit aid from them. They've already begun to
help. T h e world is a far, far better place now than it was a h u n
dred years ago."
David's gorgeous vision m ade me ponder. W hether the fruits of

E phraim 's w ork will be realized in the actual future of the earth
rem ains unclear. There are multiple futures open to us, some vio
lent a n d some peaceful, and multiple paths to get to them . C e r
tainly m an y other factors beyond his conferences and teachings
will determ ine which becomes the actual one. M y own feeling,
however, is th at the masters will play a role, and we would be
wise, as David was, to listen to them . I had learned from m any
g ro u p progressions th a t several centuries from now a large d e
cline in the Earth's p o p u lation will occur. H ow this is effected,
w hether by war, disease, toxins, pole shifts (the E arth's axis
changing), decline in fertility rate, conscious choice, o r in u n
know n ways, has yet to be determ ined. I d o n 't know whether
E phraim 's mission succeeded in the end or w hether the forces of
violence, self-interest, greed, and hatred were just too powerful.
S A M I- S O U L . M A N " * ' B O D I E S
David was now observing Ephraim's life from a higher and

m ore detached perspective. H e seemed to know w hat I was th in k
ing. "W h eth er the com ing population decline is caused by tr a u
m atic events in a sudden an d cataclysmic m anner or w hether it is
gradual and more gentle in nature will be determ ined by the
thoughts and actions of m ankind. We all choose the lives we are
ab o u t to lead. I chose well and helped others choose correctly,
too. But were there enough of us, I wonder."
1 w ished I had m ore time w ith David to explore his issues further,
but he had to go ho m e to his pregnant wife and his family's busi
ness. I asked him to keep in touch with me, to let me know how
the three sessions affected him, but I worried th a t the environ
m ent of com fort and ease in which he lived would seduce him
again.
T h a t did n o t happen. T he knowledge of past and future lives
helped David define his role in the present. H e quit his father's
firm an d returned to H arv ard to study environmental law. H e felt
he had to oppose the deleterious effects of certain big business
practices— m any of which his form er firm defended— so th a t he-
could alter the future for the better. H e was especially interested
in issues of global w arm ing, the careless accum ulation of long-
lived toxic by-products of industrial processes, and the resultant
extinction of entire species of animals and plants w ith o u t an u n
derstan d in g of w hat their absence would do to the balance of n a
ture. At last, David is experiencing meaning and p u rpose in his
life; he is "whole." His confusion has dissolved, and he is aligned
with his destiny.
As David's story shows, spirituality does not reside in the mind

alone but, rather, in one's entire persona, in the intentions and ac
tions of a life lived well. You can't just think "I'm going to be spir
itual from now on." You m ust also feel it as a consequence of
194- BR
— I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
vour actions. We live in a com m unity of souls, and we have to

perform good deeds w ithin th a t community. T he introspective
life is n o t by itself enough. W hen we reach out to assist fellow
souls along their spiritual p aths, we reach a higher level of evolu
tion. David's past an d future lifetimes dem onstrate this altruistic
devotion to loving service a m o n g his fellow hum ans. T h e m ore he
gave, the m ore he received. Lives led spiritually, like his, bring us
closer to o u r divine nature.
C H A P T E R 13
Jennifer and Cristina:

Love
nger management, health, empathy, com passion, patience
A ^.and understanding, nonviolence, relationships, security,

destiny and free will, co n tem plation and m editation, spirituality:
All these are steps to immortality. All these must he m astered now
or in the future in o u r journey to the one soul. And all these are
facets of the greatest virtue, which is love.
Love is the ultim ate lesson. H o w can you retain anger if you
love? H o w can you n o t be com passionate or em pathetic? H ow
can you n o t choose the right relationships? H ow can you strike
another? Foul the environment? W ar w ith a neighbor? N o t have
ro o m in your h eart for o th er viewpoints, different m ethods, di
vergent lifestyles?
You can't.
W hen my patients have gone through regression an d /o r p ro
gression and have m astered their phobias and trau m as, love is
w hat they understand. M a n y get this message from those who
play key roles in their lives. But m any hear it from the other
side— from a parent, spouse, or child who has died. "I'm fine,"
the messages say. "I'm okay. I love you. You d o n 't have to grieve
I'M - B R I A N L. W K I S S , M . D .
for me. W h a t lies beyond is n o t darkness but light, for I am where

love is, and love is light."
These messages might be wish fulfillment, fantasies to ease
the pain of loss, but I d o n 't think so. I've heard them to o many
times from too m any people. Love is what we carry from life to
life, although in some lifetimes we are unaware of it and in some
misuse it. Ultimately, tho ugh, it is w hat keeps us evolving.
For example, Jennifer, having just given birth to her third
child, was handed the baby for the first time. She recognized the
child im m ediately— the energy, the expression in the eyes, the im
m ediate connectedness. "You again," she said. "W e're together
again." T h e baby was the w om an's gran d m o th e r in a past life.
T h ey had fought bitterly th ro u g h o u t th a t life, all the while loving
each other, though the love w ent unexpressed. Now, she knew,
was their chance to m ake amends.
T here are all kinds of love, of course: rom antic love; the love
o f a child for a paren t an d a p a re n t for a child; and love of nature,
o f music, of poetry, of all things on this Earth and in the heavens.
Love continues on the o th e r side and is brought back here by the
soul. It is the u n d erstan d in g of all the mysteries. To me it is the ul
tim ate religion. If we could all love in ou r own way, if we could
a b a n d o n the rituals th a t prono u n c e "M ine is the true p ath; all
others are sham ," if we could abjure the violence, conflicts, and
pain we inflict in the nam e of a specific G o d — " o u r" G o d — when
by definition G od is universal, G o d is love, we would n o t have to
w ait th ro u g h innumerable lifetimes to get to heaven.
Cristina dressed in a style th a t A m erican w om en c a n 't seem to

emulate: flamenco-inspired skirts th a t reach the floor; blouses in
bright reds, blues, purples, and yellows; luxuriant black hair
pulled back severely an d kept in place by ribbons of fantastic
hues. W hen she first cam e to see me, I was struck by her showi-
ness, but as her visits multiplied, I realized th a t the colors were
com p en satio n for her dark m o o d s and darker thoughts. She was
SAMK SOUL. M ANY B O D I E S -----------------19"
a w o m an fighting, to retain a spark of self even as her family

strove to snuff it out. There were dark patches of skin under her
eyes, and her hands trembled slightly. Fatigue, I thoug ht. She
com plained of asthm a, an d in times of stress it was ap parent in
her breathing, but it was her psychological problems th a t induced
her to ask for my help.
Full-bodied but n o t fat, she exuded w hat turned o u t to be an
am biguous impression of strength within a palpable sexuality,
and from the beginning she alternated between facing me
squarely, alm ost hostilely, and averting her eyes from mine w ith a
Latin demureness th at bespoke a strict aristocratic upbringing. I
guessed her to be in her late twenties; she turned out to be ten
years older. She wore a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand,
a large ruby th at m atched the flamboyance of her clothes, and I
wondered if it was m ean t for decoration or as a proclam ation of
marriage.
"Divorced," she said, noting my look. "Two children. I wear
the ring because it's beautiful and because it scares off suitors."
H er English was elegant, impeccable, yet I could detect traces
of an accent. "You are n o t from M iam i," I said— a statem ent, not
a question.
"Sao Paulo, Brazil."
"Ah. And you moved here when?"
"T hree years ago. To join my father after my divorce."
"You live with him , then?"
"N o , no. H e lives w ith my m oth er in Bal H arb o u r. I'm a few
miles away."
"W ith your children?"
"Yes. T he girls. R osana is seven, Regina five. T hey're very
dear."
"So when you say you cam e to join your father— "
"To work with him. To be w ith him in his business."
"W hich is what?"
"Really? You d o n 't know ? I went back to my m aiden nam e
after the divorce, and I'd have thou g h t you'd recognize it."
198- —B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
O f course! Stupid of me. I should have m ade the connection

immediately. H e r father was head of a com pany specializing in
high-end clothing. In the p ast tw o years it had branched o u t into
a line of younger, less expensive sportswear, which my wife, C a r
ole, later told me was once the thing to wear if you were a
teenager. I asked if Cristina's move coincided w ith her father's
new venture.
"C oincidental," she said. "I make no decisions and have no
say in planning." H e r eyes flashed with anger. "I'm little more
than a servant girl with her ow n office."
"And this is frustrating to you?"
"Frustrating? It's infuriating!" She leaned tow ard m e and
spoke w ith passion th a t m ade her tremble. "M y G o d , w hat I
could do if he let me! H e makes clothes for w om en b u t doesn't
believe w om en should have the final say in how they look. M y eye
is twice as good as his. I'm tw ice as clever. His clothes were a fad,
and like all fads, they becam e obsolete. Already people have
stopped buying. M y clothes w ould be timeless."
Cristina, I thought, could accomplish whatever she set o u t to
do. "But he w o n 't listen?" I asked.
" H e shuts me off like a car engine. I've given up trying. To
fight him is like fighting an a rm y of the Inquisition."
" W h a t ab o u t your mother? C a n she help?"
"She c an't help herself. M y m other's simply a decoration, like
a vase of flowers. She shuts up because she know s he could re
place her whenever he felt like it."
"But he hasn't."
"Sure he has, a million times. H e keeps his w om en in separate
apartm e n ts or separate hotels, depending on how serious he feels
a b o u t them . In his religion divorce is n o t allowed. I defied it and
divorced four years ago. H e alm ost killed me when I did; it's only
when he knew he needed me th a t he let me come to America."
"D oes your m o th e r kn ow ab o u t the other women?"
"She'd be a fool if she d id n 't." Cristina paused. "B ut then, she
is a fool!"
SAME SOUL, M ANY BO DIES—
------- 199
I did n ot rem ark on her bitterness. "Are you an only child?"

"O n ly daughter. I have two older brothers."
"D o they work in the business, too?"
"W ork is the w ron g w ord. They come into the office and go
o u t to lunch."
"Yet they get the p ro m o tio n s, the respect. They're listened
to." It was an easy guess.
"M y father is to o savvy to take their advice. But you're right
a b o u t the p rom otions and the respect. You see, I'm a w o m a n and
deserve neither."
It was a familiar co m p la in t of Latin wom en, stifled by a cul
ture th a t had n o t progressed into the twentieth century. She was
obviously the star o f the family, yet she was obscured by the cloud
of tradition and closed-mindedness.
"W hy d o n 't you leave, strike o u t on your own?"
It was as though I h a d accused her of murder. Ashen-faced,
she pushed back from her chair, stood, and then collapsed back
dow n. She began to cry, dissolving under w hat seemed to me an
obvious question. "I d o n 't know," she wailed, all sophistication
gone, suddenly defenseless. "Please, please. I need your help!"
T h e change in her was so sudden th a t beyond a m um bled " O f
course I'll help," I felt awed. "Tell me the problem ," I said. "Be as
precise as you can."
She looked at me th ro u g h tear-filled eyes and breathed with
difficulty. "You have to u n d e rsta n d one thing: I love my father. N o
m atte r w hat I tell you, th at's the underlying tru th ."
Love him and hate h im , I thought. H ardly a unique e m o
tional conflict.
"W hen he cam e to Am erica, leaving me and my h u sb a n d and
babies behind, I felt relieved. M y brothers went w ith him , a n d it
seemed th a t by their going, I was rid of all the constraints, all the
pressures im posed on me by a tyrannical Brazilian patriarch of
the old school." She laughed ruefully. "M en a th o u sa n d , w om en
zero. H e never hit me, never was cruel. O n the contrary, he gave
me everything I w anted, an d th a t was the trouble. I never earned
20 0 ------------—
B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
them — or, rather, I earned them by being obedient. W hen I was

still a little girl, I realized I was sm arter than my brothers. By the
time I was twenty, I knew I was sm arter than my father, too. I
worked for him for a while in Brazil, helped the co m pany grow—
really helped— w ith o u t taking any credit for it. But it d id n 't do
me any good. I was diminished, shunted aside, n o t only by him
but by my brothers who were jealous of my brains and my
m o th e r who was his slave. It w asn't right. It w asn't just. So I m a r
ried the first m an who came after me w ith o u t realizing he was
just as tyrannical— and he hit."
By now the tears had stopped. H e r voice was level, th o u g h I
could feel the intense em otion behind her words. I had n o d o u b t
th a t she was reporting accurately. Cristina was a w o m a n pitted
against an age-old culture w ith age-old beliefs, and as strong as
she was, they had bested her.
She to o k a deep breath. "Okay. M y family's in M ia m i, he's in
M iam i, an d I'm in Sao Paulo w ith a terrible h u sband and tw o b a
bies I adore. M y father opposes my divorce, but I go th ro u g h with
it anyway. I had no choice; he was hitting the girls, too. A nd only
when it's final do I tell Father. From him, silence. M a n y m onths,
silence.
"And then all of a sudden he calls. 'C o m e to M iam i. Work
with me in the company. You're alone. I'll take care of you.' So I
came. I th o u g h t he was taking pity on me— generosity and c o m
passion from a m an who h a d never shown them. T he line for
teenagers was my idea, an d I was thrilled when we began to w ork
together again. I fed him oth er ideas. H e ate them like chocolates.
But pretty soon I realized n o th in g had changed, th a t he was using
me, th a t my brothers were the beneficiaries of my talent— th a t he
was a greedy, self-serving, cold-blooded villain."
"And yet," I pointed out, "you say you love him."
T h e th o u g h t crossed my m ind th a t he might have abused her
sexually when she was young, but I dismissed it; she exhibited
none of the symptoms. N o , the abuse was psychological. By p u t
SAME SOUL, M A N Y BODIES — 201
ting her under his d o m in atio n , he created a kind of Stockholm

syndrom e in her soul wherein the captive falls in love with the
captor. H e to rm en ted her, bu t there was no one she could tu rn to,
no one she could trust. It was the m ost insidious kind o f sadism.
She had no choice but to love him.
She seemed exhausted by her narrative, and I asked her if she
w anted to rest. N o, she said, it was better to get the whole story
out. "I struck o ut on my own. I moved me and the children ou t of
the house to where I live now and told him I was going to sta rt my
ow n line of clothes."
"Did he get angry?" I asked, visualizing his rage.
"Worse. H e laughed. H e told me I'd never get financing, th a t
no bo d y would give m oney to a w o m a n . H e said if I did m anage
to sta rt a business of my ow n, he'd disinherit me and the girls.
'You can walk the streets for all I care' is w hat he said. But I went
ahead anyway. A b o u t a year ago I quit his company, w rote my
ow n m arketing plan for another, and rented an office. I talked to
wholesalers and retail buyers."
"W ithout any m oney?"
"Well, I'd saved m y salary when I lived at hom e, and I got a
small business loan from the bank. But I d id n 't have nearly
enough, even with the loan, and these first m o n th s have been
to u g h going. Still, I m ad e a few sales. T he buyer for Blooming-
dale's in M iam i b o u g h t my line of office wear. She said I h a d ac
com plished 'miracles' in a sh o rt time. I was on m y way. O f
course, when my father found o u t ab o u t it, he stopped speaking
to me. I had hope for m y new life, but the anxiety is trem endous.
I have nightmares, so I'm afraid to sleep. I shout a t m y children.
I'm eating o u t o f nervousness. I've gained ten pounds, all on junk
food. M y breathing gets so bad, I sometimes th in k I'm going to
die."
"You say you 'h a d ' hope. H as it gone?"
She bowed her head. "Yes."
"D o you know why?"
202 -........— B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
Again she dissolved, and she gasped out her answer through
her tears. "M y father has asked me to come back."
H is com pany was going b an k ru p t. With all its fam e and de
spite the fact th at stores were filled w ith his merchandise, he was
in deep financial trouble. A lthough his up-m arket clothes still
sold— it was his strength in th a t area which accounted for his ini
tial rise— the lower-end p a r t of the business was failing. Cristina
was right when she said custom ers had stopped buying. O rders
for the following year were dow n 40 percent, a calam itous de
cline.
"H e's on the verge of bankruptcy," Cristina said after she had
explained the facts, "an d he's asked me to com e back an d save
him."
"And that's why you've com e to see me?"
"Yes. Because I c an 't m ake up my mind abou t w ha t to do, and
it's driving me crazy."
" O h , you're not crazy," I assured her, "just stuck. Sometimes
when decisions are m o n um ental, it prevents us from m aking
them at all."
She looked at me gratefully. A lthough w hat I had said was
neither pro fo u n d nor original, I h ad pinpointed the problem .
"M ay b e it will help if we go th rough your options."
" G o o d ," she said, h er c o m p o su re regained. H e r w ords
cam e quickly now. She h a d already sorted th ro u g h the choices
in her m ind. "First, I can go back to my father and help h im as
he has asked. T h a t w ould m ean giving up m y life for h im , a
k in d of suicide for a fam ily cause. Second, I can sto p w o rk in g
a n d remarry. I'd choose carefully this time. T h is tim e it w o u ld
be for love— a n d have m o re children, like m illions of m y sis
ters a r o u n d the w orld. M y p a re n ts w ould approve, m y c ulture
w o u ld th a n k me, a n d I sup p o se I could m ake m yself a ha p p y
b u t unfulfilled life."
She paused, obviously visualizing it, and shook her head
sadly. " O r I could go on w ith my own clothing line." She b right
SAME SOUL, M ANY BODIES -—
----------- 203
ened. "It would work, you know. Dr. Weiss, I d id n 't tell you this
before, but when it comes to business decisions, I'm psychic.
D o n 't smile. Really I k n o w I'd succeed. It's only in life decisions
th a t I mess up."
M a n y successful business people have Cristina's gift. They
call it "gut instinct" or "flying by the seat of their p a n ts" o r "play
ing a hunch," but it is actually a kind of psychic power. Again, I
d id n 't d o u b t th at Cristina possessed it, and it seemed to p o in t to
the right path.
"W h at's the downside?" I asked.
She sighed. "Many. C o m p ete w ith him in his ow n business?
M y family has cast me o u t already, even my mother, and if I go
on, they'll never forgive me. Frankly, I d o n 't know if I could for
give myself. It's such a betrayal of them — of him — th a t I'd feel I
deserved his anger an d any pun ish m en t th a t came w ith it."
"But isn't th a t w h at you're doing now? C o m p e tin g with
him?"
"Absolutely. And that's w hat has m ade it so hard to sleep and
filled me w ith such anxiety." She saw my surprised expression.
" O h , it isn't the business p a r t of it th a t worries me. I've already
perform ed miracles, as the Bloomingdale's buyer said. I told you
I'm psychic. It's th a t if he goes b a n k ru p t, my success w ould liter
ally kill him."
"I d o n 't u n d erstan d , then, why you started your own business
at all."
"Because I was angry. Because he betrayed me, a n d I w anted
revenge. Because— " H ere she stopped, and the tears started. "I
d o n 't th in k I could have gone on w ith my business. W hen it was
successful, I think I'd have given it to him. Actually, som e great
p a r t of me d id n 't w a n t it to succeed. I'd already planned to give it
up before I came to see you."
"T h ere are a n u m b e r o f factors here," I said sympathetically.
"You've been betrayed, but you will feel guilty if you strike back.
You're angry, but you're afraid of the consequences. You're psy
204 - — B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
chic, but you can't figure o u t the future. M en have only h u rt you,
but you're willing to remarry. You love and hate your father si
multaneously. Does th a t sum it up?"
She laughed despite herself. "Tell me, Doctor, w hat are my
chances?"
"We must see if we can look into the future," I said. "But to
do that, let's go to your past."
H e r first regression was a sh o rt one. All she could tell me was th a t

she lived in an Islamic culture of N o r th Africa; she could n 't place
the date o r describe her surroundings. She knew th a t she was
male, a writer of verse, and th a t she had a father, also a writer, of
w h o m she was extremely jealous, for he outshone his son in
recognition, prominence, and income. The parallels to her pres
ent life were so direct and obvious th at she felt w hat she saw
m ight have been nothing m ore th a n a fantasy.
T h e second regression was m ore interesting.
"It's the M iddle Ages. Twelfth century. I'm a young m an, a
priest, very h andsom e, living in the m ountains— it looks like
south-central France. T here are deep gorges and valleys, so travel
ing is difficult, but m any people come to me. They are in need of
my ability to give physical and psychological succor. I believe in
reincarnation and inspire others to believe in it also, which is a
great com fort to them. People w ho are diseased— lepers and sick
children— seek me out, and when I touch them , m any of them
are m iraculously cured. O f course I am a beloved figure. N o one
else has my talent.
"M y father in my present life is a farm er in this one, and he
lives n o t a mile away. H e's everything I'm not: greedy, godless, ac
quisitive, a m isanthrope. H e's the richest m an in the region, but
his m on ey and land d o n 't te m p t the free-spirited village girl he
covets, th o ug h he would give them all for her love. She loves me
and is willing to accept only spiritual, platonic love, for I am true
SAME SOUL, M ANY BODIES ------------205
—
to my vows o f celibacy. 'By loving you I show my love for G o d ,'

she tells me.
"An invading arm y from Rome has been able to ford the
gorges an d has surro u n d ed the village. T hey attack. 1 am c a p
tured. T he farm er denounces me to the authorities, claiming I
practice black magic. W h en they hear stories of my pow er to heal
and my certainty of lives to come, they believe the farmer, and I
am burned at the stake. It's an agonizing death, for along w ith the
flames, the smoke makes it impossible to see my beloved who,
weeping, has come to w atch me die and to give whatever solace
she can. M o m e n ts after I die, she hurls herself dow n a gorge and
is killed instantly.
"In death I am able to look dow n at the village to see w hat
transpires. The farm er's jealousy of me, which I barely recog
nized when I was alive, never disappears. H e has to settle for a
loveless marriage and grows m ore bitter, more cruel. In my life re
view I can see myself com e back in a future life to help the farmer,
now a blacksmith, w ith his life lessons, but I am n o t able to give
him m uch help. H e will com e back again and again w ith o u t
progress. I feel I've failed, a n d I've failed because deep in my
C hristian h eart I hate him. H e killed me and, worse, the w o m a n I
loved. I rejoice th a t he was bitter, unfulfilled, and miserable. I
k n o w my thoughts are w ro ng, but I can't help it. It w ould be a lie
to pretend anything else."
W h en Cristina left th a t day, I m ade a note to see if her asthm a
got better, for I felt th a t the priest's death by fire and sm oke was
linked to it. (This is fairly com m o n ; breathing problem s often
have past-life causes.) In fact, it was markedly im proved by our
next session and is n o t nearly as debilitating today.
I m ade an o th er note: "Jealousy is w hat hooked farm e r and
priest together in an o th e r life a n d probably in this one. In this life,
Cristina's father was presented w ith the o p p o rtu n ity to redeem
himself for the jealousy a n d treachery he displayed tow ard her in
past lives. H e could have sup p o rted her psychologically by recog
206 - BR
— I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
nizing and acknowledging her talent, and he could have rewarded

her by p ro m o tin g her in the company. H e chose to do neither. Per
haps yet another lifetime will be needed for him to learn c o m p a s
sion and altruism ."
In her next an d last regression Cristina found herself in a small

tow n in England in the 1800s.
"It's an exciting place to be," she told me. "For the first time
in history, m en are going off to work, leaving their houses to go to
offices or factories, while w om en are p u t in sole charge of the
hom e. It m eans a new kind of society, different relationships be
tween husb an d and wife. But I'm lucky: I'm still young, twenty,
n o t m arried, and have taken a job in a textile p lant so I can make
som e m oney Once I get there, I th in k of all sorts of ways to in
crease production and reduce costs simultaneously. M y supervi
sor is impressed and asks my advice all the time. H e's terrifically
hand so m e, and he says he loves me. I sure love him."
T h e supervisor in th a t life was once again her father in this
one. I led her forward in her past life, noting a m arked change in
her expression. She was no longer a happy, carefree girl but a
bitter, disillusioned w om an. T he supervisor, it turns out, be
trayed her.
" H e d id n 't love me after all. H e pretended to so he could
steal my ideas and take them as his own. H e was pro m o te d . His
superiors called him a genius. O h , it's horrible! I hate him! O ne
day I confronted him in front of his boss and begged him to c o n
fess th a t 'his' ideas were really mine. T he next day he accused me
of stealing five p o u n d s from a coworker. I was innocent, totally
innocent, but the girl backed him up. She was probably his mis
tress, an d he told her he loved her so she would take his side. It'll
serve her right when she finds o u t w hat a bastard he is. I was a r
rested, sent to prison for a year, humiliated, and aband o n e d . In
jail I developed pneum on ia. It didn't kill me, but it w eakened my
lungs, and I had coughing spells for the rest of my life." (Another
SAME SOUL, M AN Y BODIES— 217
parallel with her present-day asthma.) "I couldn't get a n o th e r job

but was forced to beg. I had promise, real promise— all my
coworkers at the factory th o u g h t so— but w hat good did it do
me? It destroyed me." She b egan to cry
"D id you ever forgive him ?" I asked.
"Never! H atred of him was the fuel th at kept me going, i ' l l
see him dead before I die,' I told myself. But it was a prom ise I
c o u ld n 't keep. I died before I was forty, u n m arried, childless,
alone. H e probably lived to be a hundred. W hat injustice! W h a t a
waste of my life on this E arth ."
N o t really. T he tragedy of th a t past life and of her life as a
priest was preparation for this life and her lives to come. W hen I
b ro u g h t her back to the present, she remained in an altered state
th a t I could n ot precisely define.
"T h e Bible tells us th a t the sins of the father carry on to the
third or fourth generation of descendants." (I looked it up. She
was parap h rasin g E xodus 20:5.) "But th at doesn't m ake sense.
We are o u r own descendants, reincarnated as ou r grandchildren,
great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren th ro u g h o u t
o u r m an y lives. And a t any p o in t we can erase those sins, because
they d o n 't exist in another, they exist in ourselves. M y father was
in all my lives. 1 recognized him as my father, a farmer, a supervi
sor. And in each life I've loved him , then hated him. H is sins have
followed him down th ro u g h the centuries."
She leaned forw ard, inspired. "But so have mine. It w asn't—
isn't— his sins I m ust change. It's my own. I've hated him for mil
lennia. H atred is a sin. Each tim e th a t hatred eradicated the love I
felt for him at the beginning. But w hat if it's different this time?
W h a t if I can eradicate h atred w ith love?"
Cristina's extraordinary insights did not, of course, answer the

question of which choice to make— employee, housewife, or
co m p etito r— in the next m onths. At the time of o u r w ork ing t o
gether I was just beginning my progression work and was using it
208 - BR
— I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
selectively. C n stm a 's strength and intellect m ade her an excellent

candidate, I thought, an d I suggested we try going forward.
She agreed readily. "W e're only going to look at possible fu
tures pertaining to your choices," I told her. "I w ant to avoid
glimpses of serious illness, loss, or death. If you find yourself
going in th a t direction, tell me, and I'll bring you back."
I started by asking her to see herself if she had stayed in her
father's company. "I'm sick, physically sick," she said at once, but
despite my adm o n itio n, she stopped me from bringing her back.
"It's a sickness b o rn o f frustration. T he job is stifling me literally
and figuratively. M y asth m a is worse. I can't breathe. It's like
being in England tw o centuries ago. I'm in prison."
H e r vision of herself as a housewife was equally bleak. "M y
children are both grow n and have moved away. I'm alone. I never
rem arried. M y head feels empty, like my brain has shriveled up
from lack of use. I see my inventiveness as belonging to other
lives, n o t this one."
As for sta rtin g a com petitive business: " I'm successful. M y
fath e r is b a n k r u p t, a n d I 'm a m ultim illionaire. N evertheless, I'm
miserable. It all feels an g ry a n d vindictive. I've lost by winning.
M y fam ily an d I never see each other, never speak. We sit in o u r
room s, sep arated by silence, spending o u r days w ith h a tre d ."
W h en I brought her back, I expected sadness. Instead, jubila
tion!
"T h e re is a fourth choice," she cried, "one I d id n 't see before:
S tart my own business but n o t in com petition w ith my father."
"W o n 't th a t be risky?" I asked.
"I d o n 't think so. M a rk etin g and design skills apply to all
businesses. Cookware! Ceramics! I'm a good cook a n d a n okay
potter, so at least I'll k n o w w hat I'm talking about, th o u g h n a tu
rally I'll get expert advice. I have an in with the stores th a t m ight
sell th em an d a record w ith my present start-up that's the equal of
anybody's. I'll go back to the lenders who helped me get started
and tell them I've changed my plans, but not to worry. I'll come
up with a new m arketing plan, a new business plan— I'm an ex
SAME SOUL, M A N Y B O D I E S —
---------------- 20 9
pert at those. I'll design stockpots, casseroles, coffee cups, dinner

services. I'll work with clay, w ith steel, with silver. A nd no b o d y
will say I'm out to beat my father. Why, when it succeeds, he'll be
p ro u d of me and love me at last."
H e r enthusiasm was so boundless that I didn't have the h eart
to p o in t o u t the pitfalls. I was sure she would succeed— but win
her father's love? S om ething profound would have to change in
b o th of them before th a t was possible.
She left effusing gratitude, but I remained unsatisfied. True, I
had helped her solve her dilem m a, but there was m ore w ork to be
done. I th o u g h t back to her insight about the transm ission of sin
and w ondered if she would take it further. I was therefore pleased
when a few m onths later she called for an appointm ent.
She had had rocky going, she told me. H e r new plans were
n o t m et with the su p p o rt she h ad expected. She had yet to find
her own "design voice." She h ad had to change her children's
school from private to public. She was worried a b o u t money,
afraid she'd have to go back to her father after all, if only to sup
p o rt her children. Yet she described her problem s w ith an ebul
lience lacking in her earlier visits; the darkness und er her eyes had
also disappeared, and she breathed far more easily. 1 pointed this
o u t an d asked her why.
"I'm in love."
I was astonished. W hen she left, I figured it w ould be a long
tim e before she would let love in— she was too angry at men, too
determ ined to be alone— yet there was no m istaking the light in
her eyes.
"Tell me."
"R icardo's wonderful. Won-der-ful! I m et him at a reading
group. We discovered th a t we share a love for D o n Q u ix o te ,
m aybe because we b o th tilt a t windmills. He's a com m ercial flier,
a freelancer who hires o u t to international com panies operating
between here and Latin America. He's been to Sao Paulo and
even knows the street where I lived. H e speaks Spanish and Por
tuguese, and when I told him ab o u t you, he said he'd read one of
21 0 - BR
— I A N L. W E I S S , M . D.
your hooks in Portuguese when he was last in Brazil because he

could n 't get the English-language edition. It was your first one, he
thinks, the one ab o u t you and your patient— I've forgotten the
title, to o — though I'm afraid he doesn't believe all of it. D o you
mind?"
" O f course not. I'm glad you're happy. But I'm surprised, re
ally, th a t you're in love."
She looked at me w ith e n o rm o u s gravity. "I'm surprised, too.
I asked myself how it could h appen, and so suddenly, a n d I be
lieve I have the answer. It's because of w hat we talked a b o u t e a r
lier. T h e m o m e n t I realized I was a sinner as well as m y father and
th a t my sin is hate, as it has been through all my p ast lives, then
my hatred of him, of all men, vanished— and into my life walked
Ricardo. I know it sounds all to o pat, but it's true!"
She p u t her h ands o n my desk and leaned toward me. "It's the
strangest thing, Dr. Weiss. W hen I look at him, really look, I see
the good p a r t of my soul. H e's me, I know, and I'm him. But it
seems impossible."
I explained th at w hen a soul is fragmented from the O ne, it
can enter m ore than one body simultaneously and th a t her feel
ing w asn 't "strange" or even particularly unusual. She a n d R i
cardo were destined to meet, I told her, and now their free choice
w ould determ ine w hat w ould h appen to them in the future.
"I have an idea of w h at th a t m ight be," she said, smiling radi
antly.
So did I.
There rem ained the question of w hether her new business would
succeed or fail. I asked her if she w anted me to lead her into the
future, an d after considerable hesitation— in her current e u p h o
ria, she d id n 't w ant bad new s— she agreed. Only instead of going
a few years forward, she w ent twelve hundred! Usually when p e o
ple progress into the distan t future, they're n o t sure of the year,
but Cristina was positive: 3200.
SAME SOUL, M AN Y BODIES — 211
"T h e earth is very green," she said, "m uch greener and more
fertile th an it is now. T h e forests are lush, the m eadow s filled with
flowers. But funnily en ough there are no animals. Why, when
there's so much food for them to eat? There aren't m any people,
either. They can com m u n icate with one an o th e r telepathically,
and their bodies, less dense th a n ours, are filled w ith light. They
live in small groups, n o t cities, in lovely houses m ade of w ood or
stone, and they seem to be farmers. I can see liquid or liquid light
p ou rin g into the plants; som etim es the liquid pours into the p e o
ple themselves. T he people are extremely spiritual. I can't see any
illness, any real anger, or any violence or war. There's a certain
translucent quality to everything, a perm eating light th a t c o n
nects everyone and everything in peace."
" H o w did it make you feel, seeing the world this way?" I
asked when I had b ro ug ht her back to the present.
She beamed. "C alm . C om fortable. Joyous. I look forward to
living there."
"I w onder why you w ent there instead of the im m ediate fu-
. 55
ture.
She considered the question. "Because it's m ore im p o rta n t. I
can handle the years in this life by myself. M y business will flour
ish like the trees and plants tw o millennia from now. W ith Ri-
cardo to love, how can it fail?"
She was right, of course. W ithin eighteen m o n th s her goods
were in upscale stores across the country, and when C arole and I
w ent to Russia, we saw th em in St. Petersburg. She was also doing
a burgeoning business o n the Internet. She invested som e of her
profits in her father's business a n d saved him from the threatened
bankruptcy. R icardo an d she m arried, and I pretty m uch lost c o n
tact with her. But one m o rn in g she called me. I could hear the ela
tion in her voice.
"I had to tell you, Dr. Weiss, because it's thanks to you th a t it
happened. Last night R icardo and I were at my p arents' for d in
ner. We go often; they like him. Anyway, as we were leaving, my
father drew me aside and hugged me. Hugged me! It felt w o n d e r
21 2 B R I A N ' L. W E I S S , M . I ) .
ful. And then for the first tim e in my life or his, he told me th a t he
loved m e."
Love is an absolute quality and energy. It does n o t stop w ith our

death. It continues on to the other side and returns here again. It
is the epitom e of the spirit's quality— and the body's. It is life and
the afterlife. It is ou r goal, and all of us, in this or future lives, will
attain it.
C H A P T E R 14
Gary:
The Future
n all my books I've tried to convey the astonishing im pact of
I the regression sessions; the effect of the "m iraculous" visions,

n o t only physically but psychically; the sense of mystery or magic
o r transcendence th a t b o th the patient and I experience. H ow
m uch more wondrous is it then when we travel to the future to see
n o t w hat has happened but w hat will happen, w hat will be. Such
journeys continue to fill m e w ith awe and caution. I'm wary of
leading my patients to realms th a t might be im aginary and have
them base their life decisions on w hat they "see," and I stress to
them the danger of illusion or fantasy.
O n e caveat when conceptualizing about the future is the po s
sibility of projecting one's ow n subconscious wishes to create fu
ture scenarios. For a psychoanalyst such scenarios are vitally
im p o rta n t because whatever the deeper mind creates is grist for
the therapeutic mill and is significant to the creator. In this sense,
future m emories are like dreams. There is often a m ixture of sym
bol and m etaphor, deep-seated hopes and wishes, actual m e m o
ries an d precognitive experiences. In other words, just because a
patient sees the future d o esn 't m ean th a t it is a "real" future. N ev
ertheless, the im m ediacy and strength of the m em ories can in
21?
2 1 4 -----------— B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
stantly improve the present and future course of the patient's life.
To a therapist these changes are even more im p o rta n t than the ca
pacity to validate the material.
Still, m any near future visions have proven true; you've seen
the results in several of the cases in this book. And if we learn to
infallibly distinguish between tru th and fantasy, som ething th a t
will probably n o t h ap p e n in this generation but perhaps the next,
then all of us who see into the future, w hether we use the material
therapeutically o r not, can improve th a t future by improving o u r
selves. And the golden im m ortality th a t is ours eventually will a r
rive m ore quickly, an d we will traverse verdant fields and shining
sky to the One.
I believe we can see the future because some p a r t of us re
sponds to the fact th a t past, present, and future are one, occur
ring in a sim ultaneous time, quite different from the longitudinal
years, m onths, days, hours, and minutes by which we measure
tim e on Earth. Q uite literally the future is now, and even on this
plan et we can shape o u r "now s" by ou r actions. T h a t is why it is
so im p o rta n t to prepare n o t only for the rest of o u r lives but for
all o u r lives to come— for immortality.
T h e future seems to be a flexible destination. There exists a m ul

titude of possible futures and probable futures across a vast sta
tistical spectrum. O u r individual im m ediate futures in this life
and those shortly to com e depend to a large extent, as we have
seen, on o u r choices an d actions in the present. O u r long-term fu
tures— o u r collective futures, the future of ou r p la n e t (which may
exist forever but which we may destroy, though by destroying it
we will n o t stop o u r progress tow ard the One)— depend on the
cumulative decisions of all people. W h a t those decisions are can
be seen in the view o f the future some one thou sa n d years from
now. T h e closer we get to a p articular future, the m ore accurate
we can be in predicting it. It is im p o rta n t to look one th o u sa n d
years and more ahead because the E arth today is becom ing d a n
------ 215
gerous, and perhaps if we apply m ore w isdom to ou r decisions

because of what we see, we can alter the direction of the future
starting now.
W hen I work w ith the groups who attend my seminars, I
progress them into the distant future, into discrete time periods:
one hun d red years from now, five hundred years, one thou sa n d
years or more. I w a n t to see if there is agreement in the visions,
for if they match, there is a good chance there is tru th in them ,
th a t the world will look an d feel much as they foretell. M y exper
im ents are still young, but I have found such striking similarities
in 90 percent of them th a t m ore and more I have com e to believe
there is an excellent chance, scores of lifetimes hence, th a t a glo
rious world awaits us.
I use individual progressions for therapy. As I noted, I did so
only recently and w ith som e reluctance, for I was concerned
ab o u t self-fulfilling prophecy in the unstable patient. Still, some
of my patients were spontaneously going into the future anyway
and benefiting from it, an d I began to use the technique, leading
patients near to their d eaths w ith o u t letting them actually view
it. If we see the end o f o u r lives, perhaps there are three or four
m ore steps we can take now, m ore choices we can o p t for, as we
proceed toward the n ext life. (Some people overrode my th e ra
peutic suggestion a n d w ent to their actual deaths, b u t they were
strong enough to handle it; those th at w eren't strong invariably
didn't.)
I found th at people m ad e wiser decisions a n d better choices
when they saw ahead. T h ey looked at the forks in the road and
said, "If I take this p a th , this p a th , this p ath , or this p ath, w hat
w ould be the differences?" As we m ake choices now, we're c o n
stantly changing o u r futures. But overall, out of the infinity of fu
tures th a t face us, there are one or more probable futures, and
maybe we have a 5 percent chance of going this way, a 10 percent
chance of going another, a n d only a .0001 percent chance of a
third. It is a system of probabilities and possibilities th a t we're
constantly altering. R em em ber th a t all our individual futures are
216 - — B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
p a rt of a universal arc; when those myriad individual futures co

alesce with the higher spirit in the far future, we will reach our
goal.
For now it is the choices th a t matter. John, for exam ple, saw a
fork in the road th a t d eterm ined a com passionate present life,
hugely different from the one he was currently leading. Evelyn
saw a future where her deep-seated hatred no longer existed, and
she was able to begin her p a th to th a t state in the present. W hen
we see the future, it doesn't m ean th a t we're forced in to it— hence
the forks in so m any instances. There are still choices, and it's not
to o late to make them.
In b o th John's and Evelyn's cases, and in the others I've
already described, we regressed before we went ahead. G oing for
w ard w ith o u t going back was essential in G ary's therapy, h ow
ever, for he came to me in crisis. T he night before he called, he
had had a dream of himself pointing a gun at his ow n head, his
finger slowly pulling the trigger. It seemed appropriate, he told
me when he described it after I had taken his history. D eath
would m ean the end of despair.
G a ry was a physically healthy m a n of forty whose antiques busi

ness was ab o u t to collapse. Because of the success of A ntiques
R o a d sh o w on television, he assumed th a t a rage for high-priced
silver, paintings, an d furniture w ould sweep the nation, so he ex
p an d e d his inventory to the po in t where he had to rent an extra
warehouse to contain it. But either because his taste was p o o r or
because he had overestimated the market, he attracted few ad d i
tional buyers. W hen the loans he had taken to buy the stock came
due, he couldn't pay them . His p a rtn er sued him for m ism anage
m en t of funds. H e had to fire his staff. His children, tw in boys,
were ab o u t to enter college, and he couldn't pay their tuition. His
adored wife, C onstance, h ad just been diagnosed w ith multiple
sclerosis. A lawyer suggested he file for bankruptcy, but to G ary
the idea was unthinkable.
SAME SOUL, M ANY BODIES —
--------22 7
H e told me all this in a rush, his gaunt face draw n and gray,
his eyes filled with sorrow. "H ence the dream ," he said. "You can
see why it was so pow erful."
"W hy is the idea of ban k ru p tcy unthinkable?" I asked. "It
seems to me the only reasonable solution."
"Because it proves my father right."
"About what?"
" 'M y boy, you'll never a m o u n t to anything.' If he said it
once, he said it a th o u san d times."
"H e's deceased?"
"For twelve years."
"But you rem em ber his words."
"I'm h au n ted by them . M y father was a strong m an, Dr.
Weiss. M y m o th er died w hen I was three, and he b ro u g h t me up
alone. H e was a construction worker, a hard h at, but he never
w ent o u t drinking w ith his buddies, never found a nother
w o m an — d idn't look for one— never did anything save care for
me, w orry ab o u t me, save his m oney for me. By G o d , he said, I'd
be the first in my family to go to college. H e w a nte d me to be a
lawyer o r a d o cto r or a scientist. I'd m ake him proud.
"I tried, really I did, b u t I couldn't m aster m a th o r chemistry
o r physics, and my m ind just isn't logical. I could no m ore be a
lawyer th an a construction worker."
"It doesn't take a logical m ind to be a construction worker."
"N o , but it takes strength." H e stood and spread his arms.
"L o o k at me."
W h a t I saw was an o rdinary m an w ho could be described as
"average build, average height." It w asn't his self th a t prevented
him from physical w ork, it was his self-image.
"I was interested in a rt," he continued, "E gyptian, Greek,
R om an, Renaissance. In my sophom ore year at Tulane I decided
to m ajor in a rt history, but it w asn't until my junior year th a t I
told my father."
"W h a t happened?"
His lips curled in rage. " 'M y boy, you'll never a m o u n t to any
1 1s B R I A N E. W E I S S , M . D .
thing.' H e called me a sissy, a pansy, an intellectual— there could

be n o th in g worse. I had betrayed him, shattered his hopes, was
p ro o f he had wasted his life. 'I wish I'd had a girl,' he said. To him
being a girl was alm ost as bad as being an intellectual."
"D id he disown you?"
"Worse. H e kept paying my tuition, my room and board. H e
said he had nothing else to do w ith his money, th a t he was to o old
to sta rt a life. W hen I cam e h o m e for sum m ers a n d holidays, he
was cordial. Cordial, as th o u g h I was a stranger, which I suppose
I was. After I started m y business, I tried to pay him back, b u t he
tore u p the first check I h a n d ed him, and I never tried again. M a k
ing me guilty was his revenge, and he succeeded a t it."
"You were un d er terrific pressure," I said. "It's h ard to pre
tend to be som ething you're no t, even harder to be despised for
who you are." His look o f self-pity was testam ent to the tru th of
this. "But you m ade a life for yourself. M any others w ith fathers
like yours couldn't have done that."
"S om e achievem ent," he said bitterly. "Face it: I'm a failure."
"Business failure is n o disgrace. H appens all the time. You'll
pull o u t of it. M eanwhile, you have a wife who loves you— "
"W h o says she does."
I was struck by the em phasis in his words. "You d o n 't think
it's true?"
H e was utterly despondent. "H o w could it be?"
H e was in such despair th a t I felt it useless to p o in t o u t th a t
she m ust have loved him when she m arried him, a n d she alm ost
surely loved him still, or at least th a t p a rt of him th a t h a d a t
tracted her in the first place. "W hat's the m ajor sign th a t she
doe sn 't love you?"
A wildness came into his expression.
"W h en I told her I w anted to kill myself, she begged me
n o t to."
I was m om entarily stunned. " T h a t proves she d o esn 't love
you?" I said at last.
"If she did, she'd let me do it." H e gave a strange little laugh.
SAME SOUL, M AN Y BODIES -—
----------2 1 9
"B ut it doesn't matter. I'll do it no m atter how h ard she tries to

stop me."
"When?"
"H o w ab o u t to m o rro w ? T h a t suit you? It suits m e fine."
T hreats of suicide are a m o n g the m ost serious issues a psy
chiatrist faces. T h a t G ary h a d com e to see me m ea n t at the very
least th a t he was am bivalent a b o u t his decision, th a t his dream
h ad scared him. Perhaps he was merely trying to shock me or
dram atize himself. T h e degree of misery, however, argued th a t
the desire was there, an d I knew I could take no chances.
"I'll have to hospitalize you."
H e stared a t me, eyes suddenly devoid of all expression. " N o
way."
"You're in danger of dying."
"It's n o t a danger, it's a resolution."
" N o t by anyone except you. You already told me your wife
has tried to stop you. I'll bet your boys w ould try to stop you,
to o."
"T h e boys are away."
" T h e n think of their shock, of their grief."
"T h ey 'd say they were well rid of me. They th in k I'm w o rth
less, an d they're right. T h e y 'd be better off w ith o u t me."
Again, argum ent seemed futile. If I couldn't shake him from
his wish, then I w ould have to hospitalize him. But if I could get
him to reach a higher perspective and to visualize the conse
quence of his suicide . . . "I'll m ake a deal w ith you."
H e seemed startled. " W h a t deal?"
"If you spend tw o sessions w ith me, letting m e try to help
you, I w o n 't hospitalize you."
"And if I still feel the sam e way after the sessions, you w on't
try to stop me?"
T h a t couldn't, of course, be p a r t of the deal. "Let's just see
w h at we can achieve," I said. "I w ant you to visit the future."
220 BRIAN I W K1 S S , M . D .
W hen G ary was u nder deep hypnosis, I instructed him to look at

the tw o paths diverging from his place in the present. O n e p ath
would show him the aftereffects of his suicide. T he other was the
p a th of positive action, love of self, and life.
We chose to look first at the path of suicide. Immediately, his
eyes filled with tears.
"I was wrong. C on stan ce did love me. I see her grieving, and
it is m any years after my death. T he boys are grieving, too. I was
so selfish th a t I d id n 't even consider them when I pulled the trig
ger. But they had to leave college and look after C onstance in her
illness." H e paused, and w hen he spoke again, it was w ith a tone
of am azem ent. "T h e funny thing is, they all feel responsible for
my death. T heir guilt is c onsum ing them. They think they could
have protected me from myself, saved me if they h ad been more
diligent. I can't believe it! It was my hand, not theirs, on the gun.
And Constance had done all she could. She pleaded w ith me. I
did n 't believe her, an d I w ent ahead."
"T h eir reaction isn't so strange," I said quietly. "In many
cases the survivors feel responsible."
His tears began to fall. " O h , I'm sorry a b o u t that. So, so
sorry. I d id n 't mean— "
"To h u rt them?"
"Yes. I was the one in pain."
Suicide is n o t an act of altruism. It is an act of anger or de
spair. I would p o in t this o u t to G ary when I b ro u g h t him back,
but it was im p o rta n t for him to know more ab o u t the future. I led
him even further, into his next life.
His fingers gripped the sides of his chair until the knuckles
were white. "There's a m a n standing, holding a gun at his head. I
can see his finger tightening on the trigger."
"Is the m an you?"
"Yes!"
"W ith the gun to your head, as it was in the dream you re
p o rted when you first cam e to see me?"
SAME SOUL, M ANY BODIES—
231
His body relaxed. "A dream . Yes. T hat's w hat it is. A dream ."
"Does it m ean you w a nt to kill yourself?"
"Yes. I deserve to die. I've been having an affair."
"So you're married?"
" O f course. And I w ork for my father-in-law."
"An affair d o e sn 't seem a reason for suicide."
"You d o n 't understand. If my wife finds out, she'll tell her fa
ther, an d I'll lose everything: job, family, position, my friends, my
self-esteem. 1 co u ld n 't stand the hum iliation."
"T h e affair is secret. W hy does your wife have to know?"
"Because my lover has w ritten her a letter telling her every
thing. I've broken u p w ith her, you see, and she's gone crazy. The
letter is her revenge."
"But the affair is over. You ended it. Why n o t just ad m it it and
apologize to your wife before she gets the letter? In tim e she'd for
give you. M aybe she w o u ld n 't tell her father."
" N o t a chance. She never loved me as much as she loves him.
In fact, I d o n 't think she loved me at all."
"So she'll be glad if you kill yourself?"
"T here'll be a celebration. She'll invite her father and her
friends."
H is bitterness was as deep as it was in the present. "D oes the
d ream seem familiar?" I asked.
T h e question startled him. H e thou g h t for a while and then
said hesitantly, "You m ean like a recurrent dream? N o , I d o n 't
th in k so. Only . . ." H e sh o o k his head. "N o."
"D id you in fact kill yourself?"
H e frowned. T here was ano th er silence. Finally: "I d o n 't
know. I can't see. O h , God! I d o n 't k n o w w hat to d o . "
H e rem embered his future d ream in his present life w hen he came
back to it. "Does this m ean I'll have the old feelings, the hum ilia
tion and the despair, over and over again?"
2 22 -------- BRIAN I WK1SS, M . D .
"Is th a t what it feels like?"

"It seems I'll w an t to kill myself forever. T h a t no m atte r my
life, that's the p a ttern it'll take."
"Until you're ready to learn," I agreed. "It's like a Greek
tragedy. If you kill yourself now, you're destined to face the situa
tion over and over again. W h a t you failed to realize was th a t the
m an in your dream an d the m an you saw in your progression—
the m an with the gun at his head— w asn't actually you but only a
p a r t of you, the self-loathing p art, the suicidal p a rt."
H e shuddered as th o u g h suddenly chilled. "If I to o k the other
road ," he said, "w h at w ould th a t be like?"
"Ah, good question. It's there you'll be able to learn."
It to o k longer th an usual for him to be hypnotized, perhaps
because he was fearful th a t the second path, too, w ould lead to
despair. But at length he found himself in the near future, having
chosen n o t to kill himself after all.
"I did go into bankruptcy," he reported, "b u t I won the law
suit. T here were really no grounds for it."
"And Constance?"
"Totally supportive. So were the kids. So were my friends. I
think they felt th a t all of us m ake mistakes, and they forgave me
for mine. In fact, they d id n 't feel I needed forgiveness. I was their
h u sb an d and their father and their friend, n o t infallible, not
G od ."
" H o w did you cope financially?"
"We sold the house and got a smaller one. I was able to
pay off my ou tstan d in g debts, to say nothing of the medical
bills."
"T h e boys?"
"Stayed in school. T h ey had to bunk in the sam e ro o m when
they cam e hom e, but they d id n 't seem to m ind."
"W h at's your w ork now?"
H e smiled. "R are coins. They were a hobby of mine, and now
they're my vocation."
"D o in g well?"
SAME SOUL, M AN Y BODIES—
------- 223
"Splendidly, th a n k you. I've hired back some of the people I

had to let go. They were happy to come and even left jobs to join
me. I guess they d id n 't th in k 1 was a bad boss or a failure. I'd told
them the tru th when I fired them . O ne of them said he adm ired
my honesty and com passion. O f course, my antiques business
also started well, so w ho knows?"
I progressed him further, tow ard the end of his life. "There
are grandchildren," he said. "M y C onstance died m any years
ago, but I was able to co m fort her in her last days, and we contin
ued to love each o th e r until the end." H e sighed. "It's been a good
life, all m a ll."
I knew, given his change of h eart and m ind, th a t his next one
would be better. In it, G a ry was a scientist doing research in plant
physiology— specifically, creating species th at were nutritionally
com plete so th a t people could healthily em brace vegetarianism
as an alternative to eating animals of higher consciousness.
T here was no business scenario at all, no adultery, no despon
dency, no r a g lim m er of a th o u g h t of suicide.
There was no question as to which p a th he w ould choose
w hen I brought him back to the present. H e w ould avoid the first
p ath , he realized, because he could choose wisely in the present.
Indeed, Gary's life is thus far developing exactly as he h a d fore
seen in the life p a th he h a d chosen. His family has continued to
love and su p p o rt him. H e w on his lawsuit. H e has started a new
business, a gallery for m o d ern artists (one's visions o f th e future
are rarely 100 percent accurate), and new drugs have relieved
som e of Constance's sym ptom s, though both are resigned to the
reality of her disease. A few days ago he called me w ith some
news: O ne of his sons h a d decided to leave college to become a
rock musician.
"W h a t do you th in k ab o u t it?" I asked.
"I hate it."
"W h a t did you tell him?"
"I said, 'M y boy, you'll a m o u n t to som ething no m a tte r what
vou decide to do.' "
224 BRIAN I W K1 S S , M . D .
While I believe there are forks in all our lives and th a t progression
into the future can help us decide which p ath to take, I also be
lieve th a t there are forks in the life of the world and th a t the more
we can see and u n d ersta n d them , the better chance we have of
preventing the Earth's destruction.
T h a t is why I have used my seminars as a m eans of prophecy.
Again, there is no way to verify w hat I have found, a n d in time I
am sure 1 will develop better m ethods for refining w h a t those who
have ventured into the far future have reported back. W h a t I
k n o w for sure is th a t there is a consensus on the future from my
sem inar attendees, by now num bering well over tw o th ousand,
and th a t I am able to offer— hesitatingly, tentatively— the broad
outline o f a scenario I will continue to explore.
In my group progressions, as I've noted, I try to take the
attendees to three stops o n the journey to the future: one h u n
dred years, five h u n d re d years, and one th o u sa n d years from
now. This is not exact. People always have the freedom to ex
plore any realm at any time. But as a guideline, they a n d I find it
helpful.
W h a t have we found?
♦ In one hundred years or even tw o hundred years the

w orld will be pretty much the same as it is now. There
have been natural an d m an -m ad e calamities, tragedies,
a n d disasters, b ut n o t on a global level. There are m ore
toxins, m ore crowding, m ore pollution, and m ore global
warm ing; there are fewer virulent diseases a n d better
m ethods for grow ing and harvesting food, a n d so forth.
But to parap h rase the Stephen Sondheim song, "We're
still here," virtually intact.
♦ After this period— it could be as near as three hundred

years or as far away as six hundred— there will begin a
-----------------225
second D ark Ages. (In the sessions, people seem to be

foretelling o m in o u s events closer to the earlier date.
Perhaps this is because the future is not fixed and a
blackness is advancing m ore quickly because of the
negative thoughts an d actions of m any people, though
there is still time to reverse it through ou r cumulative
efforts. This middle period is by far the m ost difficult to
pinpoint.) I d o n 't k n o w w hat caused the darkness— thus
the need for refinement— but we see a vastly diminished
population. T h e ex p lan ation may be a decline in fertility
rate because of poisons in the environment; already
there is am ple scientific evidence th at sperm motility
rates are decreasing. But viruses, poisons, asteroids,
meteors, wars, plagues, or an as yet undream ed of
calamity may also be responsible.
Some of us w o n 't reincarnate in th at time. O u r co n
sciousness may have changed enough so th a t we'll be
watching from an o th er place, from an o th er dimension.
We m ight n o t have to be here anymore. O u r futures may
be more progressed individually than the future of the
planet; some of us may reincarnate in other dim ensions
or worlds. In M essages fro m the M asters I w rote a b o u t a
concern th a t the w orld was moving from a one-room
schoolhouse, where first th rough twelfth graders were
crowded together, into tw o different schools, elem entary
and middle. But the high school isn't here an d w o n 't be
until we stop the process of pollution, destruction, and
death. Some people have surely reached high school and
others college, but they are already in a different realm
and are arriving in larger and larger numbers. They have
reached the po in t where they do n 't have to reincarnate
on E arth anym ore, an d perhaps the high schoolers are
helping us from afar. T h o se in college are focused on
graduate school, the place where they coalesce and
become p a rt of the One.
226 - — B R I A N L. W E I S S , M . D .
♦ And then the idyllic, fertile, peaceful land th a t H u g h

saw even before I started group progressions and th a t
m any others have described since. Only a few attendees
have pointed o u t the clouds th a t H u g h traveled through
before reaching the bright land. Perhaps it is because we
are in those dark clouds now, and the attendees, in the
middle of them , haven't been able to recognize their
existence as H u g h did. But they all see the brightness,
they all feel the peace, and they all come back tra n s
formed. If their cumulative vision is powerful enough
and others join th em in preparing for the lives to c o m e -
ra th er than hatin g each other, killing each other, and
poisoning their environm ents and their souls— the ideal
realm will becom e manifest, and we will get to a place
on this world so like the oth er side th at bridging them
will be easy.
Since I am m ortal as well as im m ortal, my present concern is with

the now and the difficult time to come, for we are n o t forced into
th a t future even th o u g h o u r behavior seems to be limiting o u r o p
tions. Yet I'm optimistic. In time, I think, the people's collective
consciousness th a t yearns for a m ore peaceful a n d idyllic world
will achieve it. To d o it, each of us m ust rem em ber th a t o u r fate is
to be im m ortal. Alas, to o m any of us d o n 't know this or in the
press of everyday events forget it.
This book , I hope, will act as a reminder.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
M y heartfelt and en d u rin g th an k s go to R ichard M a rek , whose

expertise and su p p o rt c o n tributed mightily to this book. H e is a
true friend.
T h e staff at Free Press has been superb throughout. Fred Hills
has been invaluable since my earliest days at Simon & Schuster.
H e is a fantastic editor w hose guidance and advice have graced
my books. M y deepest gratitude also goes to C arisa Hays, Eliza
beth Keenan, Suzanne D o n a h u e , Kirsa Rein, and all the others.
To my extrao rd in ary and w onderful agent Joni Evans at the
William M orris Agency, I'm eternally grateful.
A nd to my family, my soul mates on this life's journey and
m an y other lifetimes as well, my supreme joy is know ing th a t we
will always be together, to the very end of time.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dr. Weiss m aintains a private practice in M iam i, Florida. In

addition, he conducts sem inars and experiential w orksh ops na
tionally an d internationally as well as training p rogram s for
professionals. Dr. Weiss has recorded a series of audiotapes and
C D s in which he helps people discover and learn techniques
of m editation, healing, deep relaxation, regression, and other
visualization exercises.
For m ore inform ation please contact:
T h e Weiss In stitu te
P.O. Box 560788
M ia m i, Florida 33256-0788
Phone: (305) 598-8151

Fax: (305)598-4009
E-mail: in 2 h ea lin g @ ao l.c o m
Web site: w w w .brianw eiss.com
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In his b r illia n t lo n g -a w a ite d n e w b o o k , D r B ria n W e is s
re v e a ls h o w o u r f u t u r e lives can t r a n s f o r m us in t h e
p re s e n t. W e h a v e a ll liv e d p a s t lives. A ll o f us w ill live
fu tu r e o n e s . W h a t w e d o in th is life w ill in flu e n c e o u r
lives t o c o m e as w e e v o lv e to w a r d s im m o r t a lit y .
In S am e Soul, M a n y Bodies, t h e b e s ts e llin g a u t h o r o f

M a n y Lives, M a n y M a s te r s has n o t o n ly re g re s s e d his
p a tie n ts in to t h e p a s t, b u t also p ro g re s s e d t h e m in to t h e
fu tu r e . H e has d is c o v e re d t h a t o u r fu tu r e s a r e v a r ia b le -
t h e c h o ic e s w e m a k e n o w w ill d e t e r m in e t h e q u a lity o f
o u r life w h e n w e r e t u r n .
F o r t h e fir s t t i m e , D r B ria n W e is s ta k e s p a tie n ts in to t h e

f u t u r e in a re s p o n s ib le , h e a lin g w ay. U s in g d o z e n s o f case
h is to rie s , D r W e is s d e m o n s tr a te s t h e t h e r a p e u t ic b e n e fits
o f p ro g re s s io n t h e r a p y t o b rin g p a tie n ts m o r e p e a c e ,
jo y a n d h e a lin g , ju s t as h e has s h o w n t h a t jo u rn e y s in to
o u r p a s t lives can c u re p h ysical o r e m o t io n a l w o u n d s in
t h e p re s e n t.
D r B ria n W e is s is a p s y c h ia tris t w h o live s a n d p ra c tis e s in M ia m i,
F lo rid a . H e is a g r a d u a te o f C o lu m b ia U n iv e r s ity a n d Y ale M e d ic a l
S c h o o l, a n d is t h e f o r m e r C h a irm a n o f P s y c h ia try a t t h e M o u n t Sinai
M e d ic a l C e n tr e in M ia m i. H e is a u t h o r o f t h e in te r n a tio n a l b e s ts e lle rs
M a n y Lives, M a n y M a s te rs , M e s s a g e s From The M a s te rs , Through T im e
In to H e a lin g a n d O n ly Love Is R eal (all p u b lis h e d b y P ia tku s).
Cover design by Button Group pic

Cover image: Photodisc
Printed in Great Britain
www.piatkus.co.uk
ISBN 0-7499-2541-8
9 fO U /4 3 IJ /

Same Soul, Many Bodies

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SAME SOUL,

O nly Love Is Real

Messages fro m the M asters

M e d ita tio n : A chieving Inner Peace an d

First published in Great Britain in 2004 by Piatkus Books

Copyright © Weiss Family Partnership 1, LLP 2004

Reprinted 2005 (three times), 2006 (twice), 2007

The moral right of the author has been asserted

All characters and events in the publication, other than

All rights reserved

A CIP catalogue record for this book

Text design by Julie Schroeder

An Hachette Livre UK Company

A u t h o r ' s N ote vii

C h a p te r 3 Victoria, Evelyn, an d M ichelle: H e a lth 34

C h a p te r 6 Paul: Patience a n d U n d e rsta n d in g 94

C h a p te r 7 Emily, Joyce, R o b e rta , a n d Anne:

C h a p te r 8 Bruce: R elationships 124

C h a p te r 9 Patrick: Security 137

C h a p te r 10 John: Free Will a n d D estiny 151

C h a p te r 11 C o n te m p la tio n a n d M e d ita tio n 166

C h a p te r 12 David: Spirituality 180

C h a p te r 13 Jennifer an d Cristina: Love 195

In this b o o k , nam es an d oth er identifying inform ation—

me four years to gather the courage to w rite o f Catherine's and

me and sure th a t my advice was right, "I kn o w th a t m any of your

Until a few m o n th s ago, on those rare occasions when I p ro ­

nuclear catastro p h e or plague or the lowering of the fertility rate.

seeds, grow better crops, and p erfo rm better actions, your h a r ­

death of the physical body and th a t it returns time an d time again

Just before we die, o u r soul, th a t p a r t o f us which is aware when it

He rushed into the intensive care u nit a n d in so doin g d ro p p ed his

of any kind a n d were therefore lucid. O n e described his g ra n d ­

Even as th a t pertains here, we are nevertheless connected to every

I'm a medical d o cto r an d a psychiatrist, and healing is m y life's

O u r souls choose our parents, for o u r impulse is to continue the

to go on the life p a th I eventually selected. Was anyone involved

O u r lives are a series of steps up the evolutionary scale. W here are

well, th o u g h it is probably destiny th a t draws us to them and they

we are now witnessing a com ing together of science,

I would substitute "soul" for "self" and add th at the b o u n d ­

It has taken me tw enty-four years to reach the simple tru th a t the

A l . order to avoid repetitions of violence in o u r lives to come.

George Skulnick was doing his best to destroy himself. Despite a

her mid-forties who looked at me w ith w hat I took to be pleading

"W h y d o n 't we decide w h a t to d o after I find o u t m ore a b o u t

In Through T im e into Healing I w ro te the following:

H ypnosis is the main technique I use to help patients

conscious contact, your m ind can com m ent, criticize,

example, can recognize people from th at past lifetime

I would escort George into th a t forest, m aintaining my role as

H e sat on a small, com fortable couch. I faced him from my

"I'm an innkeeper," he said, "a G e rm a n innkeeper. I'm lying on a

Together we reviewed his life as an innkeeper. W h at lessons

H e was a seventeen-year-old soldier the next time I regressed him,

so violent in his present life. H e had gone from remorseless killer

This tim e he was a thin, gay Japanese m an in his thirties, living in

violence. His obesity seemed to stem from th a t life and from a n ­

Different connections were evident in George's next regression.

T he lesson George needed to learn in this lifetime was balance; he

th an the lives he has led. H a d he no t revisited and u n d e rsto o d the

George's present life was changed by his renunciation of anger

Victoria, Evelyn, and

s a physician and psychiatrist my mission is to heal physical

Until a few m o n th s ago, on those rare occasions when I p ro

seeds, grow better crops, and p erfo rm better actions, your h a r

of any kind a n d were therefore lucid. O n e described his g ra n d

I would substitute "soul" for "self" and add th at the b o u n d

violence. His obesity seemed to stem from th a t life and from a n

By this time I'm used to am azing regressions, astonishing revela

In o u r next session I progressed Evelyn to a future life th a t c o n

M any therapists tell you in their books how to relax; w h a t

In early regressions it is n o t unusual for one life to " in terru p t" a n

This was said so positively and w ith such arrogance th a t I re

O ften logical, left-brain patients— doctors and lawyers, for ex

T h e ability to em pathize w ith past and future versions of th e m

"T ransform m a tter by using psychic energy?" I asked, look

Chitra, thirty-five, also gave com passion w ith o u t reward. A m o