Past life regression (part 3): Marta, Italy 1600s

After exploring my past life as Behata (previous post), I was ready to explore another past life. I was back in the hallway of doors, still under hypnosis.

At the end of the hallway to my right was a black door with a gold doorknob. Because it stood out from the others, I walked towards it, turned the knob and opened the door.

I was in the middle of a bustling city. I could tell by the architecture that it was Rome, sometime in the 1600s. I was watching an Italian woman named Marta – she appeared to be in her 20s. Unlike my other past life experiences, I started this past life experience as a woman instead of as a child. I was also an observer, viewing Marta’s life, instead of living it.

Marta was walking through the crowded and noisy city square. She was dressed in a simple ankle-length beige dress, covered by a full-length apron. The apron had stains on it, but Marta didn’t care how she looked. She often ran errands while wearing her household clothes. She was walking back home from the market.

Marta was married and had four kids. She spent most of her life at home, taking care of the kids – bathing them, getting them ready for school, cooking their meals, cleaning up after them and sewing clothes for them.

Marta and her husband were both overweight. He was the town baker. Each evening, after he closed the bakery, he would bring home leftover bread and pastries. This was Marta’s happiest time of the day. After the kids fell asleep, Marta and her husband would eat until they were stuffed. They loved eating and took so much joy from sharing good food together. I got the sense that her husband shared the same soul as my current husband.

Marta and her husband did not prioritize physical health or mental health. They stuck to the same routine their entire marriage – they worked during the day (Marta at home, her husband at the bakery) and ate too much food at night. Neither one of them was social, they didn’t care to spend time with neighbors or attend town events.

But Marta loved to read and write poetry.

Ever since she was a child, she was moved by the beauty and simplicity of poetry. When she was younger, she had a journal that she used to write poetry of her own. But that journal was collecting dust now that she had a family. She also couldn’t remember the last time she read a book.

A few years ago, Marta asked some of the women in her town if they would be interested in reading books together. She quickly regretted it. The women loved to gossip and Marta didn’t understand why they found it interesting to sit around and say negative things about other people – to her, it was a big waste of time. But she was lonely, and she was hoping to find one or two women who also enjoyed reading. Instead, she became the latest subject of their gossip. Since then, Marta kept her distance from the women, interacting with them only when necessary.

At that moment, I was transported years into the future. Marta’s kids were all grown up. They were married and had kids of their own – yet they continued to rely on Marta for everything. She cooked for her kids and grandkids, cleaned for them, made their clothing and ran errands. Marta’s entire life was that of a caretaker. She didn’t have an identity of her own.

I was transported for a final time, to the day that Marta died.

She was on her deathbed, alone. Her husband had passed a few years ago and she had a one-sided relationship with her kids. She spent her entire life doing everything for them and they couldn’t even bother to visit her when she was dying.

I could feel her emotions, which included sadness and anger. But the strongest emotion she felt was regret. Marta wished she had spent less time indulging her kids and more time doing what she loved – writing poetry and reading books. In not allowing herself to do the things that she enjoyed, she lost herself. As she took her last breath, she felt like a woman without an identity.

The feeling of regret was very powerful – it felt like Marta was sending me a message: “don’t make the same mistake I did.”

After my experience as Marta was over, I didn’t go back to the hallway of doors. Instead, I saw empty, black space – it was a peaceful feeling of nothingness, like I was floating.

I thought this meant my past life journey was over. But then, in the empty space, an old man appeared. He was tall, thin and had a long white beard. He was showing me one more door – I didn’t know who this man was but there was another life that he wanted me to see.

Continued in next post.