The Cliffs of Moher

              In 1895, I stood at the edge of the cliffs, looking 700 feet below to the massive rocks. I watched as the water crashed against the cliff’s base, throwing waves high into the air. At 19 years of age, my pregnancy and life were ending.

            In 1995, I was sitting comfortably in a chair during a regressive hypnosis session. I’d gone to learn about troubling parts of my childhood, which prevented me from healing emotionally as an adult. Lisa, the regression therapist, said to go as far back in time as my mind could remember. With eyes closed, I suddenly felt the chair shaking while my feet became unsteady with the movement of the floor. I nervously told Lisa, “We’re having an earthquake!” She instructed me to keep my eyes closed. The Loma Prieta catastrophe of 1989 was still fresh in my mind. The magnitude 7.1 earthquake severely shook the greater Bay Area where I live. My heart began pounding with terror once again.

            By now, I was sweating from the panic of the earthquake, while transitioning to the Cliffs of Moher. Lisa asked, “Debbie, what year is it, where are you and what is your age?” I responded robotically, “It’s 1895. I live in Ireland and I’m 19.” Lisa told me to continue my experience. She said she would guide me and I would feel no pain, regardless of what transpired during the regression.

I began telling Lisa of a previous life as a beautiful, 19-year-old peasant girl with waist-length, brown wavy hair. My parents and I lived in County Clare, on the West side of Ireland. I’d become pregnant by a man of royalty, whom I deeply loved. He was the king of his castle whereas, my parents and I lived in a one-room hut with thatched roof and mud floor. I walked five miles to his fortress to let him know of my pregnancy. His servant opened the door and when I asked to speak with the father of my child, was told he was unavailable. With a tremendous amount of hopelessness, I began walking south toward home. An instinct came over me to look back at the castle. There, in the window of the highest room facing north, I noticed my baby’s father watching as I walked away.

            Lisa asked what I did at this point. With my eyes still closed, I relayed the next phase of my regression. Barefoot, I made the five-mile walk back to my home. My parents were in the field, working the land. I hugged and kissed my pet goats good-bye. With tears, I walked down a narrow dirt path and stood at the Cliffs of Moher.

            I let Lisa know I was standing at the edge of the cliff and was about to jump to my death. She said to leave my body before I landed to avoid the pain. I promised I would.

Taking three steps to the edge, I dove forward and began my decent. I noticed the sea gulls flying against the cloudless sky. The warmth of the sun enveloped my sailing body. Just before I landed, I left my body and watched as I crashed onto the rocks. The powerful ocean splashed over my dead body. My long hair splayed across my face and onto the rocks.

Slowly, I began opening my eyes, leaving a tragic loss far behind and bringing myself back to present day. Moving forward in my life, I acquired goats and a host of other animals who’ve provided healing for me. Together, we’ve blessed and released the Cliffs of Moher.