Why Aren’t You Interested in Knowing Who You Were in Your Past Life?

“Why Aren’t You Interested in Knowing Who You Were in Your Past Life?” A friend asked me this question recently. Our conversation had begun with a much simpler question. “Have you ever undergone hypnotic regression to find out about your past life?” he asked. “No,” I replied. “I’ve never really felt inclined to do that.” He looked at me incredulously. “You wrote an entire book, Demystifying Reincarnation, but you’ve never felt curious to know who you yourself were in a past life?” “Yeah, that’s true,” I replied. “And you’ve discussed hypnotic regression into past lives in considerable detail in that book. How come you’ve never even felt interested in trying it yourself?” he pressed on. His curiosity raised a question about my lack of curiosity. I reflected for a few moments. “I guess my curiosity has always been primarily about ideas, patterns, and principles rather than facts, details, and specifics.” Then I remembered an exchange from many years ago. “A senior spiritual leader in our movement once told me, ‘You must have been a European thinker in a previous life.’ “I stared at him and asked, ‘What makes you think that?’ “He replied, ‘Several things: your comfort with English, the logic and clarity of your thinking, and your quick understanding of Western cultural and intellectual norms.’” My friend asked, “Didn’t that make you want to find out who you actually were?” “Not really,” I replied. “If anything, it satisfied whatever curiosity I might have had. His suggestion helped me make sense of some of my present inclinations. I didn’t think knowing the specific details of a previous life would add much more.” “But wouldn’t those details be interesting to know? If you want, I know someone who does hypnotic regression. I can sponsor a session for you,” he offered. “Thank you, but I’m not really interested,” I replied. “Why not?” he asked. “The specifics about past lives might be interesting, but they might also be unreliable. That’s one reason I’ve never been particularly attracted to hypnotic regression. “Brian Weiss, an American psychiatrist, has become famous through his books on hypnotic regression. Some people have reportedly experienced relief from phobias and even trauma through such sessions. But that doesn’t necessarily establish the historical accuracy of their past-life memories. The therapeutic improvement could be due to something like the placebo effect. Moreover, what appear to be memories might not be genuine recollections. They could have been shaped by suggestions from the hypnotist, even unintentionally, because the mind under hypnosis can be remarkably susceptible to such influence.” “But some details can be verified, can’t they?” he asked. “Yes. Details that can be historically verified are especially persuasive when they were previously known neither to the researcher nor to the subject. That’s why, in my book, I focused on cases involving xenoglossia and xenography,” I replied. “What are those?” he asked. “Xenoglossia is the apparent ability to speak a language a person hasn’t learned, while xenography is the corresponding ability to write in such a language. Such cases are especially interesting when even the hypnotist doesn’t know the language. “Some researchers try to explain such cases through cryptomnesia—the unconscious recollection of information encountered earlier but subsequently forgotten. However, that explanation becomes extremely difficult to sustain when the language has been extinct for hundreds of years, is known to only a handful of specialist linguists, and the person has had no plausible opportunity to encounter it.” “Are there many such cases?” he asked. “There are a few reported cases, and I’ve discussed some of them in Demystifying Reincarnation,” I replied. As I thought further about my preference for principles over particulars, another connection occurred to me. “I see something similar in the Bhagavad Gita,” I told him. “Krishna says in 7.26 that He knows the past, present, and future. And in 4.5, He tells Arjuna that both of them have passed through many births, but Krishna remembers those births whereas Arjuna doesn’t. “Yet Krishna doesn’t describe the specifics of those past lives. That itself indicates where His emphasis lies. “But what’s even more striking is that Arjuna doesn’t ask about them either. He could have wondered what karma from his past lives had brought him to such a painful present, where he had to fight against venerable relatives like Bhishma and Drona. What might Arjuna, Bhishma, and Drona have done in their previous lives to end up on opposing sides now? “Yet Arjuna doesn’t pursue those questions. The Gita consistently focuses on universal principles rather than sensational specifics. It directs our attention not toward discovering who we were in the past, but toward understanding who we are in the present and what we can become in the future.” After a pause, I added, “Maybe that’s one reason I’m more attracted to the Bhagavad Gita than to the various Puranas, which often contain stories about the previous lives of different personalities.” “I hadn’t thought of the Bhagavad Gita in that light,” my friend replied. “Maybe that’s also why the Gita is so difficult to understand—because it doesn’t contain stories.” “Perhaps,” I replied. “Stories are often so simple that they don’t intellectually engage me unless there’s some substantial principle to learn from them. I’m naturally attracted to what is intellectually challenging. Otherwise, I feel painfully intellectually unemployed.” My attraction to intellectually challenging ideas reminded me of an exchange with a professor during my engineering studies. “I remember asking a professor several questions after he had taught a difficult concept,” I told my friend. “He answered patiently at first, but when I kept probing, he finally raised his hand and said, ‘Remember, you’re studying to become an engineer, not a scientist.’ “‘What do you mean?’ I asked. “‘In engineering, we focus on applying concepts, not spending so much time understanding them in depth. If you keep studying this way, you’ll become a misfit.’” The memory brought a wry smile to my face. During my engineering studies, I would often read several books to understand a particular concept that interested me, only to find myself rushing later to cover the syllabus, including applications that didn’t interest me nearly as much. Our conversation eventually moved to other subjects. With Our Strengths to the Source of Our Strengths Later, as I reflected on our exchange, I realized that curiosity had always been a driving force in my life, but I had rarely been curious about my curiosity—why certain things fascinated me while others didn’t. So much about ourselves remains unnoticed until someone, or life itself, holds up a mirror and shows us what we are, sometimes by showing us what we are not. My inclination toward principles and patterns was a strength I had long recognized and developed. But writing experiential articles has prompted me to cultivate another ability: remembering specific people, places, and experiences. I’ve been working to sharpen my episodic memory rather than relying primarily on my naturally stronger semantic or conceptual memory. Feeling grateful for this growing self-understanding, I offered a prayer: My dear Lord, thank You for giving me the strengths I have naturally developed because of my inclinations. Help me also develop the strengths that are needed for my service and require conscious cultivation on my part. May I use both the strengths I have and those I can develop in Your service, so that I may ultimately come closer to You, the source and sustainer of all such strengths. *** 04.05 The Personality of Godhead said: Many, many births both you and I have passed. I can remember all of them, but you cannot, O subduer of the enemy! The post Why Aren’t You Interested in Knowing Who You Were in Your Past Life? first appeared on Chaitanya Charan Das, Bhagavad Gita ISKCON .