Kathy considers herself a western yogi safely disguised as a housewife and small town reporter. But destiny has a different role for her in the end. At a past life regression workshop, she is able to remember someone from a past life whom she hasn’t met in this lifetime. And there he is, Hal, a very married lawyer from northern Ontario, sitting right beside her at an advanced meditation lecture. They have seven children between them. They just want to do the right thing. But they fall in love and soon share memories of many lifetimes together where they were never able—because of circumstance, age, position, duty, and tragedy—to choose a happy life together. And this lifetime? Well, you can just imagine.

After revealing my feelings to Hal, I find myself confused as to why I would so freely confess such raw emotion to someone I hardly know, when I have been protective of those feelings for years. Anyone will tell you, for the past twenty years I have been a dutiful wife and loyal mother, forever concerned with doing the right thing. Whatever is happening to me seems totally beyond my conscious awareness. (I’m trying to defend myself here). I plead that I am incapable of stopping the surge of emotion and am amazed at how ready I am to surrender it. The question of “why Hal?” dominates my thoughts while I am meditating, after our lunch together. I recall the lifetime five hundred years earlier as the peasant girl, when Hal was my married lover. I feel the intense feelings of recognition and connection and realize what Grace meant when she explained to me about karmic relationships and soul relationships. “Karmic relationships are about learning lessons. They are often conflicted because the weak and negative aspects of the person are mirrored back to them. In this way, they are offered the opportunity to grow and learn. On the other hand, soul relationships will remind the person of their divine nature and reflect their innate goodness and positive potential.” The memory of this past life excites me and I can hardly wait to tell Hal about the cosmic connection. I check to see if anyone is in the hallway before quietly creeping up to his room on the second floor. I knock faintly and wait. No answer. I knock harder. “Just a minute,” I hear from inside. Soon he is opening the door, hair dripping, surprised. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer sooner. I just got out of the shower and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see a strange naked man at the door.” I laugh nervously. Hal hesitates to invite me in, then realizes there's a woman standing outside his door in the men's wing. If scruples were badges, he’d be exhibiting them proudly all over his crisp shirt. Feeling like a naughty child, I enter the room, sit on the corner of his bed and proceed with a narration on the past life I have just experienced. “I’m remembering a past life with you that helps to explain the strong feelings I have for you.” I am trying my best to sound credible. “I know you are still sceptical about all this but maybe if you remembered it with me. Do you want to try?” “Sure. But I have to warn you. I’ve never had any past life memories, at least none I’m aware of. But I’m willing to try,” he says, pulling up a chair across from me. As we close our eyes, I copy Grace’s instructions to visualize a time tunnel inside his mind, a vortex that will transport him back through his present life, then lead him to the door that opens between this life and any previous existence. I ask him to visualize a door in the area of the solar plexus, allowing entrance to the dimension of cell memory. After a rather rushed experiment in past life regression, it is clear that Hal’s inner door is not only closed but locked. I try in earnest to coax it open but the key is buried deep inside Hal’s subconscious. Today is not the day he will explore the other side. “I don’t see anything,” he confesses. “It’s a complete blank.” The bed beneath me suddenly feels too uncomfortable. The entire exercise seems ludicrous. This patient, pragmatic man is regarding me curiously. Is he thinking I am prone to delusions and hallucinations, or just extremely imaginative? I feel myself blushing. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, turning toward the door, anxious to escape. “Come here,” he says, amused, gesturing me to him. He accepts me into his arms and I fall easily into his embrace. We hug each other with the intensity of long-lost loves reunited. “I love you,” he whispers, the words as familiar as the warm rush of joy. “I love you,” I echo. He speaks softly, against my hair. “I promise I’ll never hurt you.” If only I could believe him.

In this lifetime Kathleen Ross has been a newspaper feature writer and columnist, a singer and songwriter, and an intuitive counselor specializing in the Tarot, past lives, and shamanic healing. The theme of her next book project is her personal experience with alternative cancer therapies. She lives a quiet existence in rural Ontario,