There are moments in life when a quiet knowing begins to emerge, not as a thought, but as a deep inner certainty. For me, that knowing has always been this: I am here for the third time, attempting to learn one simple, yet profoundly difficult lesson. It is the lesson of love, not the kind that is sought through control, power, or validation, but the kind that flows freely, is received openly, and is expressed through peace. While the objective may seem simple, the path towards it has been anything but. Across lifetimes, I have carried within me a deep-rooted aggression, an intensity that has shaped my choices and repeatedly pulled me away from the very thing I was trying to achieve.
In several lives, I have existed as a man, often in roles that demanded strength, authority, and dominance. As a soldier or fighter, these traits were not only necessary but reinforced. Over time, they did not dissolve; instead, they accumulated and became embedded within my soul’s blueprint. This created a paradox. While my soul longed to experience love in its purest form, my tendencies leaned towards control, ambition, and power. And so, the lesson remained incomplete, repeating itself across lifetimes in different forms.
In one such life, I was born into poverty, a young boy with very little to my name. My mother in that lifetime is my mother in this one, a reminder that the souls we share strong bonds with continue to return, playing different roles but remaining deeply connected. She worked as a servant in a wealthy household, and I was an illegitimate child, without status or belonging. After her death, I was left to navigate the world on my own. I remember leaving that place, moving through unfamiliar surroundings until I arrived somewhere that offered the possibility of a new beginning. There, I became an apprentice to a wheel maker, a man who worked with metal and crafted wheels for transport. It was a modest life, but it held the promise of stability and perhaps even dignity.
It was during this time that I fell in love with his daughter. Our connection was quiet and unspoken, expressed through glances rather than words. Yet, driven by a desire to secure that love, I approached her father and asked for her hand in marriage. What followed was not merely rejection, but humiliation. His words were laced with contempt, and in that moment, something within me ignited. It was immediate and uncontrollable. I acted in a surge of rage and killed him. In doing so, I destroyed not only a life but also any chance of love that might have followed. I fled, consumed by confusion and shame, but instead of reflecting or softening, I hardened. I pursued wealth and status through whatever means were available to me, often compromising integrity. I succeeded in material terms, surrounding myself with people and building a life that appeared complete.
However, as I reached the end of that life, lying on my deathbed, a deeper truth revealed itself. Around me were my sons, who are my brothers in this life, and my wife, who is now my husband. The same souls had returned, yet the connection felt hollow. They were present, but there was no genuine love. In that moment, I understood that while I had achieved power and wealth, I had failed in the very purpose of that life. I had not learned how to create love through kindness, humility, or sincerity. Instead, I had relied on force, ambition, and control. The lesson remained unfinished.
In what I now understand to be my next attempt, I chose a different approach. Perhaps guided by my higher self and soul tribe, I recognised that my tendencies as a man often led me towards aggression and dominance. This time, I chose to return as a woman, embodying qualities that were the opposite of what I had previously expressed. I became soft, graceful, and outwardly gentle. This is the life I remembered vividly as a child, long before I had the language to understand it.
In this life, I grew up in Delhi, aware of my beauty and the attention it brought. I met a man who loved me deeply and sincerely, offering a kind of love that was pure and unwavering. While I entered the relationship and marriage, my intentions were not entirely aligned with love. There was also an element of convenience, as he was wealthy and provided a life of comfort. For a time, life was harmonious. However, when he fell ill and I took control of his business, something familiar began to resurface. The ambition, the drive for power, and the willingness to compromise values returned, though this time it was more subtle, hidden beneath refinement and intelligence.
When my husband discovered the truth and confronted me, I could not face him with honesty. Instead, I withdrew emotionally and neglected him at a time when he needed care the most. Though I did not take his life directly, my actions contributed to his decline and eventual death. This, too, was a choice. After his passing, I continued to grow in power and influence, but it was accompanied by an increasing sense of regret. Eventually, I sought spiritual guidance, recognising that something within me was not aligned. I attempted to step away from the path I had taken, but the consequences had already begun to unfold. Those I had worked with no longer trusted me. Under the guise of a farewell, they ended my life violently. I was stabbed repeatedly, a death that mirrored the aggression I had carried within me.
Even in this life, I feel the echo of that experience. My body holds memory, particularly through recurring discomfort in my stomach, as though it remembers what the mind cannot always articulate.
And so, I arrive at this life, my third attempt. This time, I carry awareness. I understand the patterns, the choices, and the consequences. I recognise that the lesson has always been the same. To move away from aggression and towards love. To choose connection over control. To receive and give love in ways that are peaceful, honest, and free of manipulation.
I believe that this awareness is not accidental. It feels as though I have asked for help, for clarity, for the opportunity to finally complete what I have been unable to in the past. This path, the work I now feel drawn to, and the exploration of my own soul’s journey all stem from that intention.
Because ultimately, this is not just about understanding the past. It is about making a different choice in the present.
And this time, I intend to choose love.
