With the increased popularity of hypnosis, beginning in the 1960s, a
number of “New Age” applications made their appearance. One of the more
sensational – and controversial – of these was the use of hypnosis as a tool
for “past-life regression.” This practice soon became highly commercialized, to
the extent that it even spawned “past life therapy” and, of course, any number
of people who declared themselves “past life therapists,” regardless of their
previous training, licensure, or certification.
Most clinicians have remained skeptical about the practice of hypnotic
regression, although once the denunciations began to quiet down, people started
to look at the anecdotal material more objectively. Those skeptics who sought
hard “proof” rarely found any, but a few of the cases in fact proved highly
intriguing.
For example, when a subject from Virginia, who had lived his whole life
in that state, felt compelled to travel into the deep woods of Minnesota, where
an earlier incarnation had “buried something of value,” and when some extremely
valuable artifact indeed turned up at precisely that location (where it had
lain for over two centuries), this turned a few heads. Perhaps – just perhaps –
something involving reincarnation actually had happened, since no other
explanations could be found.
Similarly, reports of “spontaneous xenoglossy” – the ability to speak or
write in a language with which the speaker was completely unfamiliar – could
often be difficult to explain. Some of these were absolutely spectacular, and
it was even alleged that a few were speaking not in modern languages, but
rather in forms of the languages as they had been spoken centuries earlier.
Such cases were, of course, few and far between, and even these aroused
profound suspicion. Nevertheless, they also lent a tiny bit of credibility to
the practice. And this, in turn, led psychologists to look more carefully at
the regressions themselves. Perhaps these were not literal incarnations, but
they might nevertheless have presented valid symbolic representations of the
subject’s present state. As such, it was certainly quite possible that they
were therapeutically valid after all. Indeed, one can readily find case
histories of clients whose past life regressions actually enabled them to gain
a greater insight into their present situations, and ultimately to acquire
better coping mechanisms for dealing with them.
As hypnotists and therapists using hypnosis continued to work with their
subjects, other possible “incarnations” began to materialize. Dr. Bruce
Goldberg, a dentist practicing in California, caused a sensation with his book,
Past Lives, Future Lives (Ballantine,
1982), and followed with the sequel, Past
Lives, Future Lives Revealed (Career, 2004; also available as a digital
book on Kindle). Goldberg flatly stated that people “have the power to
customize and control their destinies” by choosing which future lives they will
follow.
The same year (2004), Llewellyn Publications released yet another
startling title, Life Between Lives: Hypnotherapy
for Spiritual Regression, by Michael Newton, Ph.D. Here, the author’s
concern was not for who the previous incarnations might have been or who they
might become in the future, but rather with the time they spent in the spirit
world in between incarnations. Newton’s work has given rise to “life between
lives” therapy.
Scientist-practitioners who have been rigorously trained in the methods
of experimental psychology must admit that they frankly do not know whether
reincarnation exists, though half the world believes in it. However, we do know
that current scientific opinion regarding whether or not it is possible to
recover memories of a previous existence by means of hypnosis is preponderantly
negative. Lynn and Kirsch, in their book entitled, Essentials of Clinical Hypnosis: An Evidence-Based Approach,
reviewed research which found numerous discrepancies between memories of
previous lifetimes that were recalled under hypnosis and known historical facts,
as well as the tendency of such memories to be influenced by previously
suggested information. They concluded, “In summary, hypnotically induced
past-life experiences are fantasies constructed from available cultural
narratives about past lives and known or surmised facts regarding specific
historical periods, as well as cues present in the hypnotic situation.”
On the other hand, when we consider its therapeutic potential, it does
not matter whether or not the details of a previous life can be recalled with
courtroom accuracy – or indeed, with any accuracy at all. In the words of an
ancient Chinese proverb, "It doesn't matter whether a cat is black or
white, as long as it catches mice." From a strictly psychological point of
view, it doesn't make any difference whether hypnotically induced past-life
regression experiences are actually real or whether they are a form of
experiential theater. As long as some people report that their problems have
been alleviated by PLR, a cure is a cure, regardless of the explanation for it.
What is important is the meaningfulness of such an experience to the
individuals concerned. For example, a loving couple may choose to re-experience
a wedding night in a previous lifetime (or a series of encounters in many
previous lifetimes) by hypnotizing each other before making love, thereby
satisfying their need for variety and adventure within their own union, while
simultaneously deepening and enhancing their appreciation and experience of
each other.
The controversy disappears completely when there is no external reality
against which to compare the product of one's imaginings. Experientially gifted
people are able to experience the subjective reality of adventures taken from
literary fiction just as easily as they are able to experience the subjective
reality of a previous lifetime or a parallel universe. And who would argue that
an adventure taken from the world's great literature is not subjectively
"real" to the person who undergoes it, if that person says that it is
– especially when the individual concerned is also fully aware that it is a
product his or her own imagination?
From the standpoint of post-modern constructionism, it is foolish to
reject a given therapeutic modality out of hand. To the extent that some
approaches work for certain people, they are presumably of some value. If a
given therapy does not work in a given situation, it is clearly not the right
option to pursue. The larger question – indeed, the simplest one – is simply
whether it “works.” And this is precisely where the investigation of parallel
universes begins.
*****
In the absence of any clear “proofs,” we must cheerfully concede that
these incarnations on parallel universes cannot be confirmed “real” in our
universe. Indeed, the idea of parallel worlds has no validity whatsoever until
the advent of post-Newtonian physics. We learned very early that matter “is
anything that occupies space and has mass,” from which we drew the immediate
corollary that no two objects can occupy the same space at the same time.
This view changed dramatically when quantum physics began to bombard us
with two different times, or masses, or lengths that appeared to co-exist
concurrently. From this point, it was simply a matter of time before theories
of hyperspace developed. “Hyperspace” refers to a somewhat theoretical space
(or “place”) in which the three dimensions with which we are more or less
comfortable are replaced by other dimensions, and in which the basic laws of
Newtonian physics are transcended. Moreover, in this theoretical hyperspace, it
is entirely plausible to postulate two objects occupying the same space in the
same time.
Once we have done that, why not two universes? And from there, the next
step is more than two, and potentially, an infinite number of parallel
universes in which everything that can happen actually does happen.
Many of us wonder about the “what if?” possibilities. These usually
refer to serious events, of course. If you tied your left shoe first today,
there is no reason to imagine an entire “universe” in which you tied your right
shoe first (or slid into a pair of loafers). However, there are significant
“game changers” in our lives, even as there have been many turning points in
history.
Naturally, the “alternatives” have spawned an entire industry for
writers of fantasies and other such fiction. What if the Persians had defeated
the Greeks? What if Hannibal had defeated the Romans? What if the Muslims had
conquered Europe – or, centuries later, if Genghis Khan had done so? What if Napoleon
had thrashed Wellington at Waterloo, or the South had won the Civil War, or
Hitler had prevailed in World War Two?
In a more artistic sense, perhaps this subject was on the mind of Robert
Frost in his classic poem, “The Road Not Taken”:
Two roads
diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I
could not travel both
And be one
traveler, long I stood
And looked
down one as far as I could
To where it
bent in the undergrowth;
Then took
the other, as just as fair,
And having
perhaps the better claim
Because it
was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as
for that the passing there
Had worn
them really about the same,
And both
that morning equally lay
In leaves
no step had trodden black.
Oh, I
marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing
how way leads on to way
I doubted
if I should ever come back.
I shall be
telling this with a sigh
Somewhere
ages and ages hence:
Two roads
diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the
one less traveled by,
And that
has made all the difference.
Interpreted literally, the work tells us how the speaker is walking in
the woods and comes to a fork in the road. For some while, he finds himself
absolutely stuck, uncertain of which way to turn. He briefly thinks one road is
less traveled (line 8), yet contradicts himself in the following two lines
(“Though as for that, the passing there // Had worn them really about the
same”). Taken in this sense, he almost mocks himself in the final stanza.
However, Frost’s poetry is rarely quite that simple, particularly when
he repeats certain lines. Perhaps the two roads that diverge “in a yellow wood”
symbolize major choices we make in life. Having selected one option, we
effectively preclude the alternative. And now we are truly baffled by the
inherent irony of that last stanza. Why will he “be telling this with a sigh”? Will
it truly make “all the difference” that he took the one less traveled by – or
does he expect to end up in the same place? Moreover, perhaps we sense some
regret; the work is, after all, entitled, “The Road Not Taken.” Does the
speaker contemplate that parallel universe in which he chose the other road,
rather than the one he briefly thought less traveled?
From a clinical standpoint, we find that parallel universes – i.e., the
lives led on them, or the circumstances surrounding them – may indeed help
people heal. And this fact, supported by the experiences of numerous clients,
validates the work we are presenting in this volume. We shall leave it to
physicists to solve the mysteries of hyperspace. We can even assume, for the
sake of argument, that our parallel universes are things we, ourselves, create.
Does it truly matter? Is anything gained by suppressing the imagination and
wallowing in unhappiness? I do not think so!
