I have found that it makes a BIG difference how I passed over. Trauma, abandonment, pain..all carry over to the next life time..or at least other life times. It's never too late to explore the possibilities.
Understanding the source, the root of the problem enables healing. What I have learned, and what seems true to me is that consciousness creates. Even our illnesses. Even trauma! Let me share a small portion of how my own memories illustrate this for me.
#1 -I was a white boy -raised by the Indians after my family was killed. My name was Alexander and I lived from 1794 until 1838, my life was filled with trauma, anger, distress and ended with the Trail of Tears. I came to know the suffering, the pain, the wounds inflicted upon the spirit of a people whose culture did not and could not understand the ways of the white man. I held in my heart the image of an Indian woman pleading for the Great Spirit to help her. I held in my thoughts an Indian man with his hands outstretched to the sky pleading with the Great Spirit to end their suffering. At the time of my death, my feelings were of helplessness, my emotions were of anger and negativity, my thoughts were fearful. The Indians were at the mercy of the white man and his ways. I had wanted so badly not to be a white man. I wanted to have darker skin like my Indian brothers.
Socrates once asked, “What sort of knowledge is there which would draw the soul from becoming to being?" I think he was referring to states of consciousness. What I held in consciousness during my life and at the time of my death, I must have created in my next life: my name was Clara.... I was a black slave girl living in the South during the Civil War.
#2 As a black woman in the South, one need only imagine the pain, suffering and trauma! At the time of Clara's death, my feelings were of fear for myself and for others, my emotions were that of confusion and distrust, my thoughts were to not bring children into this terrible world. Again I had come to know the suffering, the pain, the wounds inflicted upon the spirit of a people whose color dictated their class, their social standing and their sense of self. I wanted to be accepted, I wanted away from the racial issues in America. I wanted to have lighter skin. My thoughts, my feelings and my emotions, drew me like a magnet into my next life, in 1900. However, one more time I would face suffering. My name was Valeria, I lived in Italy, I would never marry, never have children and I would experience two of the worst world wars in History. Valeria -- died of ovarian cancer in 1957 - I was born in this life - 1959.
I am sure this is only part of the bigger puzzle..but it is what seems to make a lot of sense to me.
“We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts we make the world.” Buddha
So when you say it's too late - why? Wouldn't that in and of itself be a root source? Not the actual feelings toward women - but the feeling that its "too late?"
