Marcia Beachy, MS, LPC, CCHT

Posts Tagged ‘hypnotherapy’

Pueblo Chieftain, Nov. 1, 2007

Editor’s note: First, some background. This year, for the Halloween/Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) holiday season, we wanted to explore a different realm. Something beyond writing about the usual haunted houses, trick-or-treat candy, goofy costumes and sugar skulls. Something way beyond.

Writer-editor Scott Smith decided to explore the mysterious world of past-life regression. What follows is a first-person account of a session he had with Pueblo resident Marcia Beachy, a licensed professional counselor, certified clinical hypnotherapist and trained specialist in regression therapy. The 2 1/2-hour session was tape-recorded.

By SCOTT SMITH

I am Gregor.  More precisely, I was Gregor, a Catholic priest who lived — and died — in a small village in 14th-century Britain.  Or so I believe after undergoing a recent past-life regression session with counselor Marcia Beachy, a gentle woman who has been professionally trained to help individuals examine their souls by connecting with their former lives. And so how does one embark on such a journey into the deep unconscious? Well, it goes something like this . . .

For starters, it helps to have no preconceptions. I consider myself an open-minded skeptic (“That’s good,” Beachy says), and I believe that anything — and everything — is possible. I have no answers, only questions, especially concerning things like the afterlife. And although I happen to be a big believer in reincarnation (it’s a concept that makes karmic sense to me), I’m not exactly a crystal-hugging, Shirley MacLaine-loving, mantra-chanting New Ager. It also helps to have a good spiritual guide, like Beachy. She’s been doing professional talk-therapy counseling for 23 years and has specialized in regression and soul-connection work for the past 13 years. She seems to know what she’s doing. She has a soothing voice and a calm, reassuring bedside manner.

The session, which took place at Beachy’s new home on Pueblo’s north side, began with a half-hour interview. It was a chance for her to learn a little more about me, my family and any issues that might be troubling me in my present incarnation. And it was a chance for me to be the interviewee for a change, which was fun.  We briefly discussed my childhood, my professional life and my interpersonal relationships — including two wonderful marriages that ended suddenly, painfully and, at the time, inexplicably. And we agreed that the main purpose of my regression therapy would be to satisfy my curiosity about the past-lives business, as well as to perhaps learn something about my soul that I could apply to today’s reality.

After the interview, I stretched out on Beachy’s massage table, on my back with my eyes closed and my head on a comfy pillow; she covered me with a warm blanket, put on some nice, meditative music and began the session with a series of relaxation techniques (breathing, color imagery, etc.) and hypnotherapy. She guided me deep into my unconscious, using images of a hill, stairs, a path through a deep forest, a wall and a door. I followed her spoken instructions, and in a matter of minutes I was in an odd state of semi-consciousness. I also was immersed in the past.

WAY BACK
I heard Beachy’s voice. I answered her questions. And I swear I “saw” moments from one of my past lives unfolding somewhere beyond all my known synapses. I was aware of the present (I occasionally heard the wind howling outside Beachy’s house) and the past at the same time. It was strange, but not unsettling.

Beachy guided me, literally step by step, on my path of self-discovery. She asked me what I was wearing on my feet (straps of leather, held on by twine, with no soles — “rudimentary shoes,” I said) and my body (a well-worn, hooded robe), what the ground was like (dirt packed down by horses’ hoofprints), where I was walking (“toward a wooden building”), what I saw (laughing, barefoot children who were dressed in rags and chasing chickens) and how I felt after entering the building, which turned out to be a church (“I feel like I own it. I feel like it’s my church,” I said).

And so one of my past lives unfolded, detail by detail, with occasional unobtrusive prompting by Beachy. I was a Catholic priest named Gregor. He was short (5-foot-2), bald, old and tired. He was happy with his life’s work, but sad at the moment, because many of the villagers — his congregants — had died. The church benches were empty.  Gregor was especially sad for the deceased children — kids who barely got to taste life, harsh though it was in this village. The mourning for the dead youngsters brought me to tears; I could feel tiny drops forming in the corners of my closed eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks.

On this overcast day, Gregor was preparing for a funeral. He was weary.  There had been many, many deaths — and enough burials to nearly fill the small meadow on the outskirts of town. And now, Gregor not only presided over the farewell services, he handled the burying part, too, because the town’s gravedigger had died.

As Gregor slowly walked out of the village and toward the meadow, shovel in one hand, he felt an apple in his pocket. He was looking forward to eating it later, after the burial. The apple was dinner. There was little food in the village.  He reached the burial site — a freshly dug hole in the meadow’s rich, dark soil — and waited for the funeral procession. The dead man was named Jacob; he had no family. Four of the village’s men carried the body, tightly wrapped in a blanket (there was no coffin), to the grave site. No one else attended. The men set the body into the hole. They prayed. One of them offered to help Gregor with the shovel work, but the priest waved him off. “You’ve done enough,” he said. “Thank you.”

When Gregor was finished filling the grave — it was hard work, especially for an old, tired man — he rested on the shovel’s handle and surveyed the meadow. At the far end, a red fox raced into the trees. Gregor smiled. Life goes on, he thought.

Beachy asked more questions.  Why did Gregor become a priest? (“God’s will.” And it was a decision made at a young age — after the death of his mother.)  What year is it? (“13 and 17.”)

Then she guided me to Gregor’s deathbed. The priest was 70 — ancient for that time. He was in no pain, but felt a great heaviness on his chest, “like an anvil.” Beachy asked Gregor how it felt after his final breath. How did he feel as his spirit left his body? The priest responded: “Elation. Freedom. Satisfaction. I feel like I’ve lived a good life. . . . I feel like life is everlasting.” Asked Beachy, “Things you taught as a priest and now you know?”  Said Gregor, “I don’t know them yet. But I believe in them. And I’m going on a journey.”

Beachy encouraged me to take that journey right now. But instead of following Gregor’s spirit into the afterlife, I instead found myself in another past life. I was dressed in Depression-era clothing — ragged shirt, dungarees and hat—  and had just awakened after sleeping the night by a large river. My stomach was full — fish that I had caught in the river, I think — and my bones were stiff from sleeping on the hard ground.

After realizing that I’d lost contact with Gregor and had dropped into another life, Beachy gently guided me back toward the dead priest’s soul. I grudgingly followed, but part of me wanted to connect with that middle-aged man by the river. I wanted to follow him and learn about him.

Once I reconnected with Gregor’s spirit, I felt a sense of total belonging. I was everywhere. I was a leaf. I was a tree. I was a rock. I was everything on the planet, and everything was me. My personal identity was gone.  Beachy asked me what I had learned while living as Gregor. My response: “It made me better understand people’s frailties. I learned about empathy. I learned about giving. I learned about honesty. I learned about selflessness.  I think they are areas in which I had been deficient previously, whatever that means.”

And what messages, what wisdom would Gregor give to Scott?

“It’s important to keep trying to improve . . . in areas of deficiency, because it’s attainable. Perseverance, I think, is the message. Focusing on others in a positive way strengthens yourself. But it has to be sincere. You have to believe.  “Just persevere. We’re all flawed, but we’re all individuals. Life is good. But life is not perfect. It’s not supposed to be.”

And one more request from Beachy: Anything else for Gregor to share with Scott?  “Just be thankful. Be thankful for all the good. Enjoy that apple in your pocket . . . because a lot of people don’t have one.”

And it was over. Beachy slowly brought me back to full consciousness. I felt woozy. Amazed. Peaceful. After a drink of water and a brief visit with Beachy, I collected myself and left the counselor’s house. With Gregor.

THE AFTERMATH

Some observations after the regression experience:  While transcribing the tapes of the session, I had to listen very  carefully to hear my words when I was immersed in Gregor’s life. I spoke slowly and deliberately, but I also sounded fatigued and weak, almost speaking in a whisper sometimes. Was that because Gregor was tired and worn-down? Or was it just the way I sound when I’m under hypnosis? (Hypnosis, says Beachy.)

I was fascinated with the detail of my descriptions when I was Gregor: the smell of my robe (sweaty and salty, but not unpleasant); the frayed twine that held together my rustic footwear; the musty smell in the empty church; the fact that there were not headstones or upright crosses in the graveyard— just a few rough-hewn crosses made of branches and lying flat on the ground; a hungry horse neighing in the distance; the distinctive feel of the apple, cool and smooth, in my pocket. Beachy says that details like smells are a good indication that “you’re really there.”

Most of the time, it felt like I was seeing life from Gregor’s eyes, but a couple of times I felt like I was outside his body, watching a scene unfold.  That’s just the difference between being an “experiencer or an observer,” Beachy says.

After the session, I Googled English history, circa 1317, and discovered that it was the final year of The Great Famine in Europe. It was a three-year span when an estimated 10-15 percent of the continent’s population died from famine-related causes. (The Black Death didn’t hit until 1338.)  That would certainly explain the many deaths in Gregor’s village, as well as the dearth of food.

And here’s a spooky coincidence. When I returned to my home to eat lunch after the regression session, I turned on my iPod sound system, which was set on “shuffle” to provide random tunes in a library that contains more than 3,200 songs. The first song that came on was a version of “Jacob’s Ladder,” by Bruce Springsteen. Yes, Jacob. The name of the man that Gregor had just buried . . .

Source:  The Pueblo Chieftain

We already know. We comment on the “school of hard knocks”. We sing, “when will we ever learn.…”. We muse as a friend did recently, about her “higher education in love.” We discover, create, are tested, fail and succeed.

Sounds like school and, of course, it is. Life is a demanding teacher. Earth is a tough classroom. And to what end? Could it be that we are spiritual travelers arriving from distant parts of the Cosmos to attend one of the most challenging curriculums in three-dimensional creation? Does this tough classroom serve to mature us and hone our spirits? Key alchemical processes are occurring now. Various immensely valuable teachings are enveloping us like waves, some of which we ride with grace. Others propel us gasping and sputtering to the depths. Yet at some core level, we know all of life is about learning.

Like the wave on the ever varying sea, change is key to Earth School’s curriculum. Big change shakes and rattles our collective cage. That’s happening now. Immense waves of change are washing through every strata of life. This upheaval cracks us open. We may try to keep the shell of familiarity around us but fractures still show through. Sometimes our reality shatters. We feel adrift and without purpose. We may try to act “normal” but inside we feel like war victims or earthquake survivors. And we are. The human race is under tremendous pressure.

You need no alerting to this. Your relationships are undergoing major changes. You finances feel unstable. You see ineptitude gripping our financial leaders. The challenges of medical care and the mercurial nature of the world arena are difficult to ignore. You may be watching your children cope with unprecedented assaults on their innocence. We long to create stability within this moving wave of change. Stability is a natural desire. Having stability within these changes requires great flexibility and opening the floodgates of clarity and creativity. It requires letting go of much of what we think we must have. It requires we dance with our fears.

Change rides on the waves of opposites. This classroom exists within the embrace of opposing forces. Instead of the oneness and harmony of our spiritual origins, we have the experience of light and dark, of happiness and sadness, of inclusion and rejection. We experience calm and security in the morning and by evening are filled with anxiety. The sun shines and then the clouds oppress us. A friend becomes an “enemy” and we are thrown into anger. The friend apologizes and we love again. Back and forth we go until, with experience, we develop a “middle path”. We discover more acceptance of our anger and a deepening of our love, thereby creating some reconciliation of duality.

In addition to the hard learning tools of change and duality, we have the added challenge of “the veil of forgetfulness.” An enormous dilemma in this spiritual training school, this divine classroom, if you will, is that most of the students don’t know they are enrolled! In fact some traditional religions have taught the negation of Earth and the human body, that they are evil or at the very least, not worthy of honor and certainly not divine. How silly and sad this seems. What a waste we say! But wait. There may be a way in which our unknowing, whatever its origin, serves a greater purpose. Perhaps the enticement of discovery and coming to KNOW is a part of the lesson plan, like the lure of a treasure hunt or the solving of a puzzle. Perhaps we are meant to unravel the mystery of who we are and in the process gain soul wisdom, a gift to ourselves and to our Creator. To remember our true nature and feel it in our bodies and daily life is our quest.

Breaking through this veil is a necessary task in Earth School homework. Suffering is a great way to break through, though not often sought! When we suffer, we question, we probe, we protest, we cry. We go deeper than our present identity. We may touch the soul. In addition to suffering, other veil-breakers are deep meditation and prayer, deep compassion, various altered states and intense relationships. In this work, an altered state of consciousness is our particular avenue through the veil. Uncovering previous existences of the soul and wisdom from the “heavenly realms,” via hypnosis, is the passage we will explore together. Here we will discover how the learning tools of change and duality work as aids for soul growth over time. We will learn to perceive through the eyes of the soul, developing a sense of soul psychology. We will explore the divine classroom curriculum at the present time and the divine human archetype that is returning.

The term for the heavenly realms we use is “interlife.” Interlife refers to the dimensions and experiences encountered after the death of the body (often called the afterlife). From the interlife we will explore what lies beyond death including:

-   Spiritual guides and support staff available to assist us

-   Rehabilitation and retreat centers for recovery after difficult lives

-   Interference or heaviness that can waylay the heaven-bound soul

-   The healing of pain that the soul perspective brings, and

-   The dawning realization that maturation of soul is the effect gained from all of Earth School experience.

The past life stories in the three case studies that follow, are taken from my private practice and represent the story of humanity’s journey and our arrival at this present juncture, this choice point. These stories intertwine with all of our individual stories into a larger human chronicle that weaves into the epic of universal creation. As this grand chronicle unfolds, we are privileged to catch glimpses. Hints of the greater story most often come through from the interlife.

Critical soul choices are being made in the present chapter of our human story. Soul choices might involve following a prompting to move to a new location, or placing ourselves in situations where we experience powerful lessons, or growing the courage to speak our truth. If, for example, we can recommit to expressing love in the face of fear, our soul is being heard. Listening to the soul is a primary challenge as the proponents of fear become noisier.

Our death can also be a pivotal choice. My mother died in July of 2001. After the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, my father remarked, “Well, your mother decided to go at a good time. This would have been too hard for her.”  Besides mirroring his own overwhelming sadness, he acknowledged the soul choice my mother made.

My desire is that the material in this book be of help in these soul decisions. And, if by chance, you are in the process of leaving this divine classroom, may you find comfort and guidance for your departure. If you are choosing to stay, flourish, and learn all you can, may you find deepening joy, courage and commitment. If you feel like you are camping out on the planet just watching the human drama unfold, may your curiosity guide you to the passages of interest.

The term “God” is seldom used in this material because it has become a conflicted term for many, implying anything form the greatest love to the greatest judgement and condemnation. It connotes a singular masculine deity, devoid of the divine feminine. This concept gathers no support from consciousness studies, regression work, spiritual research or personal experience. Therefore, I generally utilize more neutral terms, the Divine, Spirit, Source, etc.

This material was inspired by courageous past life regression clients who chose to understand themselves from the perspective of their souls. They discovered lives of service and growth as well as difficult lives that have haunted them for centuries. The healing power of soul understanding and bringing what has been hidden to light, released many ties to the distant past. Their generosity in releasing their stories, with the hope that others might benefit, is most commendable. I am deeply grateful to each one and honored that I have had the chance to work and learn with them.

As you read, may your heart drink in what nourishes you. May you remember what you already know. May your soul open more fully to your own unique expression of divinity so needed in this time of great change.

To order a copy of the book “This Divine Classroom:  Earth School and Psychology of the Soul” click here.

Regression therapy can be a beautiful complement to talk therapies and counseling, or you may find you simply want to experience and uncover something more held in your memory bank without doing counseling. I recommend a follow-up session after regression work to support you in integrating and understanding what you have received. Most people find these therapies very effective. There are two styles of therapy I offer for regression work:

1.       Heart-Centered Hypno-Behavioral Therapy

This hypnosis technique is particularly suited to age regression in the present life. It enables you to follow the affect or feeling bridge back to original fears, anxieties and traumas in a safe, powerful and gentle fashion. Then the fear is recognized and replaced with hope and love as you integrate it into your conscious mind. This therapy is helpful with childhood abuses, blocked memories, addictions, and anxieties.

I received my hypnosis training from the Wellness Institute of Issaquah, WA with Diane Zimberoff, M.A., and David Hartman, M.S.W. I am a member of the Heart-Centered Therapies Association and have been practicing Hypno-Behavioral Therapy since 1993.

2.       Past Life Regression Therapy
This therapy, using either an affect bridge or hypnosis, is helpful for connecting to a sense of your soul’s journey through exploring other lives you have experienced. It is an avenue for self-discovery and for release of traumas and fears that are impacting your present life. It is a window to the soul through the higher perspective achieved, often through the afterlife experience of the past life character. In the afterlife, healing and forgiveness are often available as well as a connection to guides. I would describe this therapy as not only informational, but transformational.

I received training in PLR therapy with Dolores Cannon (author of  The Convoluted Universe series, et.al.),  Roger Woolger, Ph.D. (author of Other Lives, Other Selves) and others. I have received training in life-between-lives work with students of Michael Newton, Ph.D. (author of Journey of Souls, Destiny of Souls and Life Between Lives), and I have been practicing past life regression work since 1996.

Note: If you are interested in knowing more about my work in PLR therapy, you can follow three of my PLR clients in their amazing journeys through time through my book This Divine Classroom: Earth School and the Psychology of the Soul.

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