Past Life Memories - 20 Massages in 2 Months (Massage #6)

Richard Oliver in massage room #4 at Well Being Center for Health

 

I received massage #6 of 20 from Richard Oliver, one of the founders of Well-Being Center for Health in Monroe, WA. We scheduled a longer session to leave time for focus on the neck area. Some interesting things came up. 

For most of my life I have experienced intense fear when someone touches the front and sides of my neck.  Until now I have not been able to get to the root of this reaction. 

I am comfortable enough with Richard to let him touch the front and sides my neck. Richard worked using cranial-sacral therapy and light massage on my neck. He used small, light motions. He wrapped his hands around my head and extended my neck with gentle and subtle movements. For my part I focused on overcoming fear, on relaxing, and on resisting the occasional urge to get up off the table and run away so that Richard could do what I had asked him to do: help me heal. For this part of the massage, he kept his eyes mostly closed and seemed deep in concentration.

What I saw first is that I had defenses protecting me. These defenses are what cause me to jerk away when my neck is touched. After a few minutes of massage – and deep breathing on my part - these defenses began to dissolve. What came next was a feeling of asphyxiation. (I saw why did not want to be touched – to avoid this feeling!). I was trapped in a small space. Blue bubbled up around me.

I told Richard that I felt as if I were drowning. He took his fingers off my neck. With concern on his face he asked me if I wanted to keep working through it to which I replied, "Yes."

Because I have had no near-drownings in this lifetime I realized that I was most likely experiencing a past life memory. As Richard continued his work, the memory became clearer. I was strapped in the front driver’s seat of a car. I had driven off a bridge and into a lake. Ice cold water filled the cabin of the car. Submerged, I looked to my right and saw my small son drowning. The futility of our situation registered and I put my fingers to my mouth. 

I opened my eyes to find myself on the massage table, Richard’s hands at my neck and my fingers resting on my lips. I closed my eyes to go back into the memory for there is no way out but through and up. 

Back in the pain, I saw someone standing on the bridge screaming. The last thing I remember is dying, fading into oblivion, a light going out. Death was the sound of our potential falling away, our lives folding closed like the shutter on a camera, and then also of disappointment, of not wanting it to end that way, of not wanting to have killed my son by driving off a bridge.

(For more on massage #6, see next post)