Michael Prescott's Blog

Slices of life

As readers of this blog know, I've been puzzled by the divergence between two sets of afterlife reports. One set essentially involves a trip to either a disturbing, hellish limbo or a beautiful paradise (known as Summerland to Spiritualists), while the other set involves an immediate awareness of a higher self that chooses various incarnations for the purpose of growth.

The trouble is that the first set of reports (often found in NDEs and mediumship) typically has little to say abut reincarnation and suggests that the earthly persona continues after death. But the second set (obtained through hypnotic regression and the channeling of allegedly advanced spirits) insists on reincarnation and regards the earthly persona as a temporary role that is quickly discarded. 

Moreover, the two sets of reports differ in other aspects. The first set focuses on an earthlike environment of gardens, parks, homes, and even cities, inhabited by beings in human form, while the second set tells of a more abstract environment of pure geometry in which souls see each other primarily as glowing lights (with different colors of the spectrum relating to different degrees of spiritual evolution).

The easiest course of action would be to jettison one set pf reports and concentrate exclusively on the other. But I think there is pretty good evidence for both, although the first set has been more extensively investigated, and the second set is weakened by the inherent problems of hypnosis (e.g., hypnotized subjects may confabulate or may be influenced by the hypnotist). If I had to choose just one set, I'd go with the first, but I suspect that there is some truth in each set -- but not the whole truth in either.

Noodling on this, I sketched out the simple little diagram reproduced below. I admit this could look a lot better if done on a computer, but I'm busy right now and don't have time to put together a better chart. Still, this crude drawing at least gets the basic idea across.

The idea is that the Self, in the sense of the totality of the spiritual entity that we know as "I," may extend across various levels of existence. Spiritualists are always talking about different planes of reality, and the implication is that we travel from one plane to the next. But suppose that our Self actually cuts across all the planes simultaneously, and what "travels" is only our awareness (or at least our primary awareness, in the sense of of our principal focus). Moreover, suppose that time either has no meaning in this scheme or operates very differently from the way it does in our spacetime universe. The end result is that the Self could operate on various levels at once, and the story told by the Self when focusing on its experience in one plane would differ from the story it tells when focusing on a different level of experience. 

Though I did not mark it this way in the diagram (because I didn't think of it), we could label each sub-Self as Self 1, Self 2, Self 3, etc., with higher numbers representing higher levels of existence. Note that the Self is depicted as a circle on each plane, and that the radius of the circle varies consistently as you go from one plane to the next. Awareness on higher planes is represented by a bigger radius, while awareness on lower planes is represented by a smaller radius. This simple graphic tries to express the idea that consciousness expands as it moves deeper into the system.

Note also that various circles are slices of a cone, which represents the Self in its entirety. The cone expresses the idea that these circular slices or cross-sections are part of a larger, continuous whole which bridges the gaps between the planes. Because the Self is ultimately one entity, no matter how it may be sectioned into slices, no part of it is really cut off from the rest, which means that the relatively restricted awareness of the earth plane can come into contact with the higher awareness of higher planes (perhaps through prayer, meditation, or a burst of insight sometimes known as "cosmic consciousness"). This viewpoint also dovetails with the hypothesis popularized by Aldous Huxley that the brain serves as a "funnel" or "filter" restricting a wider range of consciousness. 

Perhaps this diagram, though obviously simplistic and metaphorical, can make some sense of the conflicting sets of reports. NDErs and ordinary mediumistic communicators are reporting from the level of awareness depicted here as "limbo" or "Summerland." Those who recall past lives under hypnosis, and especially those who recall a life between lives, may be reporting from a higher (or deeper) level of awareness. In this respect it is worth noting that between-lives therapists insist that only the deepest stage of hypnosis can access these memories. Naturally, the reports of purportedly high-level channeled beings would also reflect a higher plane of awareness. 

What is perhaps most noteworthy is the implication that all of this is going on at the same time, or perhaps "outside of" time. While it may seem as if we are engaged in a long and tedious struggle to attain spiritual enlightenment, this model suggests that we have already attained it -- in fact, that we never had to attain it because it was part of us from the beginning. The various lower levels of awareness with their more restricted range (represented by smaller radii) are part of a continuum with the highest level of awareness, so whatever we are seeking on this plane has already been found (actually did not have to be "found") on the higher plane. And the awareness on that plane is just as much "I" as the awareness on this plane; it is not a separate entity, though it may feel separate from the limited perspective of earthly life.

Finally, notice that the various cross-sections form a series of concentric circles, suggesting that each smaller circle is contained within the larger one. Nothing is lost; there is only expansion to a wider point of view. If this is correct, then it may be wrong to say (as, in the past, I have) that the ego is sloughed off after death. It may be more correct to say that the ego is subsumed within a wider consciousness that places it into a more appropriate perspective, thus robbing it of its power to mislead or confuse. This higher awareness, even on the limbo or Summerland planes, would be consistent with many reports of communicators who see their own mistakes more clearly than than they did on earth, and who (especially at the Summerland level) have risen above their earthbound limitations of perception. The field of induced after-death communication offers many examples of communications that seem to come from this level of awareness.

I'm not sure how clear this all is, and being busy, I can't revise and clarify my remarks as much as I ordinarily would. But it just may be the case that the apparent contradiction between the two sets of afterlife reports can be resolved by looking at the whole issue from a different perspective. 

My thanks to commenter Juan, whose remark about slicing off circular sections of a sphere probably got me thinking along these lines (although I realize I am not going in quite the direction he suggested). 

 

The tip of the iceberg

In some of my recent posts I've been looking at the question of a duality in our spiritual nature. The main reason for my interest in this recondite topic is that there are, broadly speaking, two kinds of scenarios spun about life after death. In one scenario, the individual with all his faculties intact (and even enhanced) relocates to a spiritual world and proceeds to learn and evolve in this new environment. In the other scenario, the person sheds his ego like a worn-out coat, remembers that he has lived many lives and that all the lives were essentially roles he played, and proceeds to plan a new incarnation. 

Reconciling these two storylines is not easy. In fact, it may be impossible, unless we concede that there are two parts to each of us, a soul and a spirit, and that while the soul may live in Summerland, the spirit is busy reincarnating on Earth. 

But how can this be? What sense does it make to talk about a person or a self, if it can be split apart, or if if it was never actually united in the first place? 

The best answer I've found to this question is in an essay by Michael Tymn called "The Enigma of Reincarnation." It's a short, well-written piece, so I'd suggest that anyone interested in this subject simply read the whole thing.

What stands out for me is a certain uniformity of opinion that emerges from various "channeled" sources over a long period of time. The viewpoint that takes shape is simple enough to grasp in principle, but probably impossible to understand in detail, because it would require us to think outside the limitations of our own (earthbound) minds. 

Essentially, the idea is that the individual self (call it the soul) is part of a larger group soul (call it the spirit). The spirit is akin to the higher self, the spirit guide, the guardian angel, etc. The soul, on the other hand, is basically the personality-centered ego-mind we know as "me" in ordinary life. Various souls, each a unique individual, contribute to the totality of the group soul or spirit. 

The channeled entity Silver Birch compared the whole system to a radiant diamond. The diamond as a whole is the group soul; the facets of the diamond are the individual souls. He also compared it to an iceberg, with the tip of the iceberg representing the individual soul and the greater submerged mass representing the group soul. 

Tymn also quotes from the purported communication of a long-dead Glastonbury monk, who was asked why he remained connected to the ruins of the abbey he had loved in life, instead of venturing into the higher planes of the spirit world. Via automatic writing the monk replied, “Why cling I to that which is not?  It is I, and it is not I, butt parte of me which dwelleth in the past is bound to that which my carnal soul loved and called home these many years. Yet, I, Johannes, amm of many partes, and ye better parte doeth other things – Laus, Laus Deo – only that part which remembreth clingeth like memory to what it seeth yet.”

It appears to me that if the two lines of evidence for the afterlife are both valid -- that is, if the Summerland scenario and the reincarnation scenario are both true -- then we have to concede that old Johannes was right. We are indeed "of many parts." We do possess uniqueness and personhood, but we are also part of a larger whole that has its own purpose and intentions. We are both bounded and unbounded; we are defined and limited by our individuality, yet we partake of something larger. And we cannot really grasp this paradox with minds conditioned by ordinary earthly reality. We can state it in words, but we can't make complete sense of it, because it is too far removed from our bodily, physical experiences. 

Some understanding of our multi-part spiritual nature seems to have found its way into many religious traditions -- even into Christianity, which distinguishes between soul and spirit in its founding texts (though not many modern Christians would acknowledge this distinction). We seem to simultaneously identify with the small self of the ego and personality, and with the big self of the witness or oversoul or "cosmic consciousness." I, for one, can't see how the apparently indivisible thing I call "my self" can actually be two very different things at the same time. But I gather that such is the case. 

And if so, then it may help to explain how these two scenarios can coexist. The soul speaks through mediums and remembers its earthly life; it may or may not have any glimmer of the bigger picture, which includes reincarnation, and thus mediumistic communications on this subject may be confused and conflicting. The spirit (oversoul, group soul) speaks through hypnotic regression sessions, identifying with each earthly life as it is lived, but shedding that identification between lives. Each one -- spirit and soul -- is truly "me," but in a different respect.

As a very loose and perhaps not very helpful analogy, we might think of a photon, which can be either a wave or a particle -- two very different modes of expression, yet neither is any less real. The oversoul might be likened to the wave, which is a probability distribution encompassing all possible locations of the photon, while the soul might be compared to the particle, a unique point in space and time. Without the particle, the photon would remain only a potential; without the wave, the photon would be incapable of movement and change. 

Or we might think of the duality of yin and yang -- two complementary principles that make up a single whole, yet remain distingiushable. 

But all these comparisons ultimately fail. As Michael Tymn reports: "Trying to explain reincarnation to humans, Silver Birch added, is like trying to explain the color of the sky to someone who has been blind from birth." And as he also tells us: 

When Frederick Bligh Bond asked another of the Glastonbury spirits, a more fluent speaking one, about reincarnation, the spirit replied:  “You understand not reincarnation, nor can we explain.  What in you reincarnates, do you think?  How can you find words?  Blind gropers after immutable facts, which are not of your sphere of experience.”

Little big man

Another great case from The Survival Top 40 is the James Leininger reincarnation case. This story is sufficiently well known that I don't think I need to summarize it; anyway, Miles Edward Allen's excellent summary is readily available at this link (PDF). 

Besides the strongly evidential value of James' statements about the plane he piloted, the ship he flew from, the names of his fallen comrades, etc., there are three aspects of the case that strike me as particularly interesting. 

First, little James showed strong emotions when remembering his past life as a pilot. The whole episode began with James' nightmares, in which he struggled and screamed in bed. Whatever he was experiencing was obviously vivid and terrifying. Moreover, he showed flare-ups of righteous indignation that would seem more appropriate for a WWII flier than a two-year-old. As Miles Edward Allen recounts, when James identified his ship as the Natoma, his father replied that the name sounded Japanese. "Little James grew indignant and said no. It was American!" It's certainly credible that a patriotic serviceman would have that reaction; after all, it was the Japanese who shot him down. James, on the other hand, was probably too young to know or care about the Japanese through his own personal experience. 

Second, James' description of the downed pilot, given while he was in the throes of his nightmare, was "Airplane crash! Plane on fire! Little man can't get out!" I don't know if this has been commented on by others, but I couldn't help wondering why James would describe the pilot as a "little man." After all, the pilot was a full-grown adult, considerably larger than James, a toddler. It occurred to me that the description would make sense if the pilot were viewed from a distance - that is, from an external vantage point. Looking down (say) on the struggling pilot in the cockpit, one might very well see him as a "little man." Such a perspective is commonly reported in NDEs and OBEs, when a person rises out of his body and looks down on himself from a height. There have also been reports of "dual consciousness" in such situations, where the person is simultaneously looking at his body from an external perspective and still experiencing the pain or anxiety of his physical body. If James was in fact remembering an event from a former life, it is possible that he was reliving the pilot's experience of separating from his dying body while still maintaining some connection to it. Naturally James was much too young to have been exposed to NDE literature or influenced by it.  

Finally, the coda to Miles Edward Allen's summary connects neatly with accounts given by people who have been hypnotically regressed to remember a life between lives - that is, a spiritual existence bookended by earthly incarnations. Accurately describing a "big pink hotel" in Hawaii and his parents' romantic dinner on the beach, James said, "When I found you and Mommy, I knew you would be good to me." The dinner in question took place five weeks before James was conceived. Many life-between-lives subjects have stated that they were allowed to choose their next set of parents, and that they would look in on various couples before making a selection. Again, it seems impossible that a young child would know anything about this research, especially since his parents were committed Christians who rejected the very idea of reincarnation until James' own testimony eventually changed their minds. 

To me, the evidential details supplied by James (exhaustively researched and confirmed by his father), in combination with his intense emotional connection to the memories, his arguably NDE-like description of the "little man" in his wrecked plane, and the similarity of James' last remark to life-between-lives testimony, add up to an especially powerful case.

It may be worth adding that the great majority of children who spontaneously recall a past life report that their previous incarnation ended suddenly, either by violence or a quickly fatal disease. Perhaps an unexpected death, one that the soul is not properly prepared for, is more likely to be recalled in the next incarnation, either because of lingering trauma or from a sense of unfinished business. James' story clearly fits this pattern; he remembers dying young, in combat, on the very last day before he was scheduled to ship home. 

 

The over/under of the soul

There's a major discrepancy in the evidence for the afterlife that's always puzzled me. I don't claim to have the answer, but I thought I would throw out a highly speculative suggestion.

The discrepancy pertains to the always thorny issue of reincarnation. In most near-death experiences and in a great deal of channeled communications, reincarnation does not come up. Some alleged communicators have even gone so far as to state with certainty that reincarnation is a myth. Other communications received by mediums, however, say just the opposite. Moreover, past-life researchers who have hypnotized their subjects not only obtain detailed accounts of previous lives, but in some cases obtain descriptions of a life between lives in which the soul plans its next incarnation.

The inconsistency is most apparent in accounts of the soul's transition to the afterlife. If we listen to near-death experiencers and many purported spirit communicators, we hear that the soul arrives in the afterlife with no memory of any physical incarnation other than the most recent one. The afterlife environment, at least initially, is a place for rest and the casual enjoyment of arts, leisure, and learning. But if we listen to patients placed into deep hypnosis, we hear that the soul arrives in the afterlife with an immediate recall of many past lives. The soul is reunited with other souls that it knows from various earthly incarnations and from many interludes in the spirit world. Moreover, the soul almost immediately embarks on a training program to prepare itself for its next incarnation. Though there are some parallels between the two accounts, the differences are substantial and seemingly irreconcilable.

One obvious explanation is that at least one of these two bodies of evidence is not reliable. If I had to jettison one batch of afterlife accounts, I would choose the material obtained through hypnosis. Hypnotized subjects are notorious for their tendency to confabulate–in other words to invent fictional accounts–in order to satisfy the explicit or implicit demands of the hypnotist. Experiments in hypnotism performed in the late 19th century strongly suggest that a person's latent psi abilities may be greatly accentuated when under hypnosis; therefore, I would not rule out the possibility that the hypnotized subject is actually reading the hypnotist's mind and simply reiterating what it finds there, creating a kind of feedback loop or folie a deux. If this is the case, then the evidence from hypnosis studies may be of limited value. Meanwhile, the evidence of near-death experiences and mediumship in general strikes me as much more solid.

Still, there may possibly be a way of reconciling these two very different sets of accounts. Let's suppose that each type of account is valid, but that the accounts come from different sources. To put it plainly, what if the stories told by near-death experiencers and most mediumistic communicators originate with the ordinary soul, while the stories told by hypnotized subjects originate with the oversoul?

According to some mystical traditions, our earthly identity, which we might characterize as our soul, is only part of a larger, more comprehensive identity known as the oversoul or the higher self. This oversoul allows various aspects of itself to incarnate at different times and in different places in order to experience a variety of conditions in the physical world. The oversoul itself, while connected to the soul, remains distinct from it, much as a tree may be distinguished from a leaf on one of its branches. While the tree and the leaf may be seen as a single organism, they may also be seen as separate entities.

In this view, the individual soul does not reincarnate, since to do so would require losing the individual identity it had built up in its first (and only) incarnation. Instead, some other part of the oversoul undergoes the next incarnation, perhaps carrying with it some of the memories or karma acquired by the first soul in its earthly adventure. We might compare it to a relay race, in which the torch is passed from one runner to the next.

Now if there is any truth in this, we might perhaps see a way to reconcile the apparent contradiction between the two versions of the afterlife. In most cases, near-death experiencers and mediumistic communicators are speaking from the point of view of the individual soul–for want of a better word, the undersoul. On the other hand, some of the higher channeled entities, as well as the entities that communicate when a subject is in deep hypnosis, represent the oversoul, and thus provide a different perspective.

From the perspective of the undersoul, individual identity does not change very much in the transition to the next life. There is no memory of any previous incarnation and no knowledge of any master plan. The main purpose of the afterlife, at least in its early stages, is to provide an opportunity for rest and recuperation, as well as for an assessment of lessons learned.

Meanwhile, from the perspective of the oversoul, individual identity is largely dropped or at least minimized upon the transition back to the spirit world. Memories of all the incarnations of its constituents are immediately available to it, and it quickly embarks on developing a strategy for its next incarnation.

This distinction might help to clarify something rather odd about statements made by the hypnotized subjects, who often seem to distinguish between themselves and the person they were on earth. One such subject, for instance, said she felt that one of her earthly incarnations was a good learning experience for her and also worked out well for the person who served as her incarnation. It is rather strange to think of the soul viewing itself both as the incarnated person and as somehow outside the incarnated person at the same time; but this paradox might be resolved if we see it as the oversoul drawing a distinction between itself and one of its constituent undersouls.

In some channeled literature we are told that the soul–that is, the individual soul or undersoul–is eventually motivated to give up its life of leisure and to progress to higher dimensions of the spiritual plane. My hypothesis suggests that this advancement to higher dimensions consists of merging more and more fully with the oversoul, until eventually the distinction between oversoul and undersoul has been largely erased. Of course it is also possible that the oversoul itself may need to progress and merge with other over souls into some larger unity, and eventually, perhaps, into what we may call God itself.

One thing worth noting is that the level of profundity of near-death experiences seems to vary directly with the extent to which the subject is exposed to the so-called Being of Light. Some near-death experiencers do not encounter any Being of Light at all; others see the light but do not interact with it; still others establish a profound spiritual connection with the light. In my hypothesis, the Being of Light–which is sometimes characterized as Jesus or Buddha or some other religious figure–is actually the oversoul or higher self. (This idea is not original with me; Kenneth Ring suggests it in one of his books.) Possibly the more an NDEr interacts with or merges with the Being of Light, the more profoundly the experience affects him and the more closely he continues to identify with the oversoul, and to minimize the importance of the undersoul, even after returning to earthly life.

It is also possible that when we pray, our prayers are directed toward the oversoul; that so-called guardian angels and spirit guides are aspects of the oversoul; and that mystical “cosmic consciousness” experiences involve a direct, albeit brief, apprehension of the oversoul, or at least of a more substantial part of it than we usually can access.

As I say, this is only a speculative hypothesis. It seems to be broadly consistent with several different classes of evidence and with some important strains of mystical tradition. But when dealing with this kind of material, it's wise to add this caveat: everything I just wrote may be completely wrong.

Shanti's NDE

I'm always interested in near-death experiences that were reported before NDEs became popularized in the media. Recently I came across one in an unexpected place -- a book about reincarnation by Peter and Elizabeth Fenwick, titled Past Lives: An Investigation Into Reincarnation Memories.

In Chapter 1, the famous case of Shanti Deva is sketched out. When she was four years old, Shanti, a native of Delhi, India, began talking about a past life lived in a town eighty miles away. Though her parents did their best to discourage her, she eventually convinced them to take her seriously by naming her husband in her previous life and the address of their home. The husband had indeed lost his young life in childbirth shortly before Shanti was born. Alert to the possibility of fraud, the husband's family subjected Shanti to various tests, all of which she passed. Finally they accepted her story as true.

In contrast to many such cases, Shanti retained her reincarnation memories until her death in 1987 at age 61. The book observes, "To the end of her life she maintained her conviction that she had lived before as Lugdi. She remained in touch with Lugdi's family and was an honored guest at family occasions."

But what about the NDE? The authors continue:

There is an interesting postscript to this story. Four years after Shanti's initial reunion with her family, in 1939, the whole case was re-examined by Mr. Sushil Bose. He interviewed Shanti, and for the first time asked her detailed questions not just about her previous life as Lugdi but about her death. What she told him seemed at the time preposterous. Shanti described how just before death she felt a profound darkness and then saw a dazzling light. She knew then that she had come out of her body in a vaporous form. She described seeing four men in saffron robes who had come for her, a beautiful garden and a river. Now, half a century later, this is instantly recognizable as a typical near-death experience....

Before the 1970s, when Raymond Moody wrote his first book on the subject, Life After Life, little was known about near-death experience. Shanti's description has many of the typical features of near-death experience -- her awareness of her consciousness leaving her body, her meeting with a being of light and then entering a wonderful garden -- and also has cultural features (being collected by men in saffron robes) which are more typical of an Indian experience. It is highly unlikely that a young child could have invented this, and [there was] at that time no way she could have been told about it or read it. She believed she had the experience at the time of her death in childbirth in her previous life: we don't, unfortunately, know whether she had ever been seriously ill in her present life, and perhaps had a near-death experience that later surfaced as an apparent memory from a previous life.

Of course, if we take the story at face value, then technically it is not a near-death experience; it is a death experience. And in that case, we might be justified in thinking that NDEs do accurately capture at least the early stages of the true dying process.

P.S. A more detailed account of Shanti Deva's NDE, featuring quotations from interviews with her, is found here. 

A case for reincarnation

Allan Kardec's well-known 19th century volume The Spirits' Book (full text online) collects answers given by a variety of trance mediums to philosophical and theological questions. It makes interesting reading even today.

One of the main points raised by the purported spirit communicators is that reincarnation is a fact, and that every soul must undergo a large number of incarnations on Earth or on other physical worlds.

Kardec mounts an extended defense of the "justice" of reincarnation, which - although dated in its treatment of race and culture - makes some valuable points. What follows is an excerpt. The full chapter (Chapter 5 of Book 2) can be read here.

Italics are in the original. Long paragraphs have been broken up for easier reading.

 =============

Let us, for the present, examine the matter from another point of view, entirely irrespective of any assumed declarations of spirits in regard to it. Let us put the latter entirely aside for the moment; let us suppose them to have made no statement whatever in regard to it; let us even suppose the very existence of spirits not to have been surmised. Placing ourselves a moment on neutral ground, and admitting, as equally possible, the hypotheses of the plurality and of the unity of corporeal existences, let us see which of these hypotheses is most in harmony with the dictates of reason and with the requirements of our own interest.

There are persons who reject the idea of reincarnation simply because they do not like it, declaring that their present existence has been quite enough for them, and that they have no wish to recommence a similar one. Of such persons we would merely inquire whether they suppose that God has consulted their wishes and opinions in regulating the universe?

Either the law of reincarnation exists, or it does not exist. If it exists, no matter how displeasing it may be to them, they will be compelled to submit to it; for God will not ask their permission to enforce it. It is as though a sick man should say, "I have suffered enough today; I do not chose to suffer tomorrow." No matter what may be his unwillingness to suffer, he will nevertheless be obliged to go on suffering, not only on the morrow, but day after day, until he is cured. In like manner, if it be their destiny to live again corporeally, they will thus live again, they will be reincarnated. In vain will they rebel against necessity, like a child refusing to go to school, or a condemned criminal refusing to go to prison. They will be compelled to submit to their fate, no matter how unwilling they may be to do so.

Such objections are too puerile to deserve a more serious examination. Let us say, however, for the consolation of those who urge them, that the spiritist doctrine of reincarnation is by no means so terrible as they imagine it to be; that the conditions of their next existence depend on themselves, and will be happy or unhappy according to the deeds done by them in this present life; and that they may even, by their action in this life, raise themselves above the danger of falling again into the mire of expiation.

We take it for granted that those whom we are addressing believe in some sort of future after death, and that they do not look forward either to annihilation or to a drowning of their soul in a universal whole, without individuality, like so many drops of rain in the ocean; which comes to much the same thing. But, if you believe in a future state of existence, you probably do not suppose that it will be the same for all; for, in that case, where would be the utility of doing right? Why should men place any restraint upon themselves? Why should they not satisfy all their passions, all their desires, even at the expense of the rest of the world, if the result is to be the same in all cases?

On the contrary, you no doubt believe that our future will be more or less happy according to what we have done in our present life; and you have doubtless the desire to be as happy as possible in the future to which you look forward, since it will be for all eternity! Do you, perchance, consider yourself to be one of the most excellent of those who have ever existed upon the earth, and therefore entitled to supreme felicity? No. You admit, then, that there are some who are better than you, and who have consequently a right to a higher place, although you do not deserve to be classed among the reprobate.

Place yourself, then, in thought, for a moment, in the medium condition which, according to your own admission, will properly be yours, and suppose that some one comes to you and says, "You suffer; you are not so happy as you might be; and meanwhile you see others in the enjoyment of unmixed happiness. Would you like to exchange your position for theirs?" "Undoubtedly, I should," you reply; "what must I do to bring about such a result?" "Something very simple; you have only to begin again what you have done badly, and try to do it better." Would you hesitate to accept the offer, even at the cost of several existences of trial?

Let us take another illustration, still more prosaic. Suppose that someone comes to a man who, though not in a state of absolute destitution, has to endure many privations through the smallness of his means, and says to him, "Here is an immense fortune, of which you may have the enjoyment, on condition that you work hard during one minute." The laziest of men, in response to such an offer, would say, without hesitation, "I am ready to work for one minute, for two minutes, for an hour, for a whole day if necessary! What is a day's labor in comparison with the certainty of ease and plenty for all the rest of my life?"

But what is the duration of a corporeal life in comparison with eternity? Less than a minute; less than a moment.

We sometimes hear people bring forward the following argument:-"God, who is sovereignly good, cannot impose upon man the hard necessity of recommencing a series of sorrows and tribulations." But would there be more kindness in condemning a man to perpetual suffering for a few moments of error than in giving him the means of repairing his faults?

"Two manufacturers had each a workman who might hope to become some day the partner of his employer. But it happened that both workmen made so very bad a use of their day that they merited dismissal. One of the manufacturers drove away his unfaithful workman, despite his supplications; and this workman, being unable to obtain any other employment, died of want. The other said to his workman-'You have wasted a day; you owe me compensation for the loss you have thus caused me. You have done your work badly; you owe me reparation for it. I give you leave to begin it over again. Try to do well, and I will keep you in my employ, and you may still aspire to the superior position which I had promised you."

Need we ask which of the manufacturers has shown himself to be the most humane? And would God, who is clemency itself, be more inexorable than a just and compassionate man? The idea that our fate is decided forever by a few years of trial, and notwithstanding the fact that it was not in our power to attain to perfection while we remained upon the earth, fills the mind with anguish; while the contrary idea is eminently consoling, for it leaves us hope.

Thus, without pronouncing for or against the plurality of existences, without admitting either hypothesis in preference to the other, we assert that, if the matter were left to our own choice, there is no one who would prefer incurring a sentence against which there should be no appeal. A philosopher has said that "if God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent Him for the happiness of the human race;" the same might be said in regard to the plurality of existences. But, as we have already remarked, God does not ask our permission in the establishment of providential ordering; He does not consult our preferences in the matter. Either the law of reincarnation exists, or it does not exist; let us see on which side is the balance of probabilities, considering the matter from another point of view, but still leaving out of sight all idea of any statements that have been made by spirits in regard to it, and examining the question merely as matter of philosophic inquiry.

If the law of reincarnation does not exist, we can have but one corporeal existence; and if our present corporeal life be our only one, the soul of each individual must have been created at the same time as his body; unless, indeed, we assume the anteriority of the soul, in which case we should have to inquire what was the state of the soul before its union with the body, and whether this state did not constitute an existence of some kind or other.

There is no middle ground. Either the soul existed before its union with the body, or it did not. If it existed, what was its condition? Was it possessed of self-consciousness? If not, its state must have been nearly equivalent to non-existence. If possessed of individuality, it must have been either progressive or stationary; in either case, what was its degree of advancement on uniting itself to the body?

If, on the contrary, it be assumed, according to the general belief, that the soul is born into existence at the same time as the body-or that, previous to the birth of the body, it possesses only negative faculties-we have to propose the following questions:

1. Why do souls manifest so great a diversity of aptitudes independently of the ideas acquired by education?

2. Whence comes the extra-normal aptitude for certain arts and sciences displayed by many children while still very young, although others remain in a state of inferiority, or of mediocrity, all their life?

3. Whence do some individuals derive the innate or intuitive ideas that are lacking in others?

4. Whence do some children derive the precocious instincts of vice or of virtue, the innate sentiments of dignity or of baseness, which often contrast so strikingly with the situation into which they are born?

5. Why is it that some men, independently of education, are more advanced than others?

6. Why is it that among the races which people the globe some are savage and others civilized? ...

What is the philosophy or the theosophy that can solve these problems? Either the souls of men are equal at their birth, or they are unequal. If they are equal, why these inequalities of aptitude? Will it be said that these inequalities depend on the corporeal organization of each child? But such a doctrine would be the most monstrous and the most immoral of hypotheses; for, in that case, man would be a mere machine, the sport of matter; he would not be responsible for his actions, but would have the right to throw all the blame of his wrongdoing on the imperfections of his physical frame. If, on the other hand, souls are created unequal, God must have created them so; but, in that case, why is this innate superiority accorded to some and denied to others? And would such partiality be consistent with the justice of God, and the equal love He bears to all His creatures?

Admit, on the contrary, a succession of existences, and everything is explained. Men bring with them, at their birth in flesh, the amount of intuition they have previously acquired. They are more or less advanced, according to the number of existences they have previously accomplished, according as they are nearer to or farther from the common starting-point; exactly as, in a company made up of individuals of different ages, each will possess a degree of development proportionate to the number of years he has already lived; the succession of years being, to the life of the body, what the succession of existences is to the life of the soul....

God, in His justice, could not create souls more or less perfect. But granting the plurality of our corporeal existences, there is nothing in the differences of quality that we see around us in any way inconsistent with the most rigorous equity; for what we see around us is then perceived to have its roots, not in the present, but in the past....

We have [been] considering the soul in regard to its past and its present; if we consider it in regard to the future, we are met by difficulties which the theories in vogue are equally unable to explain:

1. If our future destiny is to be decided solely by our present existence, what will be in the future the respective positions of the savage and of the civilized man? Will they be on the same level, or will there be a difference in the sum of their eternal felicity?

2. Will the man who has labored diligently all his life to advance his moral and intellectual improvement be placed in the same rank with the man who, not through his own fault, but because he has had neither the time nor the opportunity for advancing, has remained at a lower point of moral and intellectual improvement?

3. Can the man who has done wrong because the means of enlightenment have been denied to him be justly punished for wrong-doing which has not been the result of his own choice?

4. We endeavor to enlighten, moralize, and civilize mankind; but, for one whom we are able to enlighten, there are millions who die every year without the light having reached them What is to be the fate of these millions? Are they to be treated as reprobates? and, if they are not to be so treated, how have they deserved to be placed in the same category with those who have become enlightened and moralized?

5. What is to be the fate of children who die before they have been able to do either good or evil? If they are to be received among the supremely happy, why should this favor be granted to them without their having done anything to deserve it? And in virtue of what privilege are they exempted from undergoing the tribulations of the earthly life?

Which of the doctrines hitherto propounded can solve these problems? But, if we admit the fact of our consecutive existences all these problems are solved in conformity with the divine justice. What we are not able to do in one existence we do in another. None are exempted from the action of the law of progress; every one is rewarded progressively, according to his deserts, but no one is excluded from the eventual attainment of the highest felicity, no matter what may be the obstacles he has to encounter on the road....

We have argued the matter, as we remarked above, without reference to statements made by spirits; such statements being, for many minds, without authority. If we, and so many others, have adopted the hypothesis of the plurality of existences, we have done so not merely because it has been proclaimed by spirits, but because it has appeared to us to be eminently rational, and because it solves problems that are insoluble by the opposite hypothesis. Had it been suggested to us by a mere mortal, we should, therefore, have adopted it with equal confidence, renouncing, with equal promptitude, our preconceived opinions on the subject; for when an opinion has been shown to be erroneous, even self-love has more to lose than to gain by persisting in holding it. In like manner, we should have rejected the doctrine of reincarnation, even though proclaimed by spirits, if it had appeared to us to be contrary to reason, as, indeed, we have rejected many other ideas which spirits have sought to inculcate, for we know, by experience, that we can no more give a blind acceptance to ideas put forth by spirits than we can to those put forth by men.

The principal merit of the doctrine of reincarnation is, then, to our minds, that it is supremely rational. But it has also in its favor the confirmation of facts-facts positive and, so to say, material, which are apparent to all who study the question with patience and perseverance, and in presence of which all doubt as to the reality of the law in question is impossible. When the appreciation of these facts shall have become popularized, like those which have revealed to us the formation and rotation of the earth, they who now oppose this doctrine will be compelled to renounce their opposition.

To sum up: We assert the doctrine of the plurality of existences is the only one which explains what, without this doctrine, is inexplicable; that it is at once eminently consolatory and strictly conformable with the most rigorous justice; and that it is the anchor of safety which God in His mercy has provided for mankind.

[Allan Kardec, The Spirits' Book, Ch. 5, Book 2]

Life gets in the way

Apologies for the light blogging lately. I've been preoccupied with a personal matter and haven't been able to give much attention to this blog -- or, unfortunately, to Chris Carter's new book, Science and the Near-Death Experience. From what I've read of it, I would say that the book is intellectually serious, comprehensive, and persuasive, but until I've read the whole thing, I can't give a proper review. I do encourage those who have read the book and enjoyed it to post a reader review at Amazon.com or Amazon's UK site.

One thing I was thinking about before I got sidetracked by "real life" was the perennial controversy surrounding reincarnation. I'd been reading Michael Newton's second book, Destiny of Souls, and while I can still see valid reasons to be skeptical of Newton's hypnotic regression therapy, I must admit that the concepts his patients elucidate while in trance somehow "ring true" to me. Of course, the fact that something feels right doesn't prove that it's actually true. But I am finding more value in this area of research than I'd expected.

Probably my biggest reservation about Newton's work is the difficulty in reconciling it with accounts provided by mediumship. However, the stories told by Newton's patients do dovetail pretty neatly with some mediumistic material, notably The Spirits' Book by Allan Kardec (text online here). Another interesting area of overlap is the so-called "Seth material" channeled by Jane Roberts. As you probably know, the alleged entity called Seth said unambiguously that reincarnation is a reality, though he also indicated that the mechanism is more complicated than we realize.

Here is an interesting excerpt from the book Seth Speaks, which bears on this subject:

When you have learned to your capacity in this in-between period [i.e., the period between incarnations], you are ready to progress. The in-between period itself, however, has many dimensions of activity and divisions of experience. As you can see, to put it as simply as possible, everyone does not "know" everyone else.

Instead of countries or physical divisions, you have psychological states. To an individual in one, another might seem quite foreign. In any communications with those in these transitional states, messages through mediums can appear as highly contradictory. The experience of the "dead" is not the same. The conditions and situations vary. An individual explaining his reality can only explain what he knows. Again, such material often offends the intellect that demands simple, neat answers and descriptions that tally.

Most individuals from these stages who communicate with "living" relatives, have not reached at the time of choosing [a new incarnation] as yet, and have not completed their training.

They may still be perceiving reality in terms of their old beliefs. Almost all communications come from this level, particularly when there is a bond of relationship in an immediately previous life. Even at this level, however, such messages serve a purpose. The communicators can inform living relatives that existence continues and they can do it in terms that the living can understand.

They can relate to the living, since often their beliefs are still the same; in fortunate circumstances they can communicate their knowledge as they learn. Gradually, however, their own interests change. They take up relationships in their new existence.

At the time of choosing, therefore, the personality is already preparing itself to leave for in other existence. In terms of time this in-between period can last for centuries. It can last only a few years. Again, however, there are exceptions. There are cases in which a personality goes very quickly into another physical life, in perhaps a matter of hours. This is usually unfortunate, and is caused by an obsessive desire to return to physical life.

Such a quick return, however, can also be taken by a personality who is charged with a great purpose, who disregards or discards an old physical body, and is reborn almost immediately into a new one in order to finish an important and necessary project already begun.

[pp. 184-185 of the Bantam paperback edition]

Past and future lives

In 1986 psychotherapist Joel Whitton and author Joe Fisher published Life Between Life, a book recounting Whitton's experiments in hypnotic past-life regression. Actually "past-life" is something of a misnomer, because while Whitton did explore his patients' alleged past lives, he was primarily interested in what he called the "interlife," the timeless and spaceless period between incarnations.

The first half of the book consists mainly of a general overview of the subject of reincarnation. Here, I think the authors are sometimes too eager to push the view that belief in reincarnation is nearly universal. For instance, there seems to be some conflation of two distinct beliefs: that the soul preexists its earthly incarnation, and that the soul is repeatedly incarnated. Cicero is quoted as saying that young children's facility for learning is "a strong proof of man knowing most things before birth." But Cicero was not maintaining that the soul undergoes multiple incarnations, merely that it exists on the spiritual plane before taking on a physical body. The church father Origen held essentially the same view, which is misrepresented in Life Between Life as an advocacy of reincarnation.

In the second half of the book, we get into the real meat of the subject: Whitton's hypnotic regressions. Unfortunately his database is rather small, consisting of only 30 clients. He explains that the extremely deep level of hypnotic trance necessary to access the interlife can be achieved by only a small segment of the population. Moreover, although he says he has made some efforts to verify the factual details of specific past lives, none of these verifying investigations are described (with one exception, to be discussed later).

Perhaps a bigger stumbling block to accepting Whitton's results is the melodramatic nature of many of the past lives he uncovered. In one case, the previous personality was a virtuoso musician, a woman who had a torrid love affair that ended in tragedy when the car carrying her lover and herself plunged off a cliff; the man died, and the woman, horribly scarred and unable to play the piano because she had lost the use of her hands, lived in isolation and eventually drowned herself by walking into the sea. I'm not saying this couldn't happen, but it does contain a lot of elements of Hollywood melodrama; the tragic denouement is right out of the classic soaper A Star Is Born.

Another case involved a previous personality who lived in the Wild West -- the proverbial hooker with a heart of gold, who became the target of an equally familiar stereotype, the firebreathing fundamentalist preacher. When the evil preacher tries to take custody of the prostitute's newborn baby, the desperate woman accidentally fires a shotgun that kills the infant. She is then handed over to the not-so-tender mercies of a vigilante band of cowboys, who rape and torture her before skinning her alive.

Now, it's true that the people who sought out Whitton's services were suffering from severe psychological (and sometimes physical) problems, so perhaps it's not surprising that they should have especially traumatic memories. And the book makes the point that these patients have experienced dozens of lives, some of which were quite prosaic; for therapeutic purposes, the focus of the sessions was on the most dramatic lives, the ones that left them emotionally scarred in their present incarnation. Still, the Harlequin Romance/Hollywood melodrama aspects of some of these tales make me uneasy.

Like other past-life therapists, Whitton claims significant success in curing longstanding problems that had defied more conventional treatment. It does seem as if past-life therapy can sometimes resolve painful, even crippling emotional disturbances in a relatively short time. This alone makes the therapy valuable, whether or not the purported past lives are genuine.

Interestingly, the patients' accounts of the dying process are quite similar to near-death experiences, typically including an out-of-body experience, a passage through a tunnel into a bright light, and a life review. But unlike most NDEs, the life review is usually supervised by a trio of sages, and is often accompanied by an in-depth interview.

As Whitton's patients describe it, the interlife involves grasping the mistakes that one has made in one's most recent incarnation, seeing where one has fallen short of one's goals, and then -- in cooperation with a more advanced guide -- designing the plan for one's next life. Occasionally a particularly impatient or reckless subject will reincarnate without a plan, a policy that is strongly discouraged by the powers that be.

Karma plays a large role in all this, but instead of being seen as a strictly mechanical process of cause and effect or action and reaction, it seems to be understood more as choosing the life circumstances that are most likely to teach the required lessons.

One interesting case involved apparent psychokinetic manifestations that began with the unexplained appearance of blood on the wall of the patient's home. The symbolic blood was eventually traced to past-life traumas, but I couldn't help thinking that if the mind is able to materialize blood out of thin air in order to spotlight a person's psychological problems, it might be capable of creating a convincing simulation of a previous persona.

The one instance in which we are told of efforts to verify the patient's claims was a case of xenoglossy -- i.e., speaking a language that should be unknown to the speaker. Actually, there were two languages -- Old Norse and an ancient Mesopotamian tongue. The authors write,

When Harold was reexperiencing his life as Thor (a Viking), Dr. Whitton instructed him to write down, phonetically, the vocal exchanges that were taking place. Harold responded by writing twenty-two words and phrases, none of which he understood. Working independently, linguistic authorities who spoke Icelandic and Norwegian subsequently identified and translated ten of these words as being Old Norse, the language of the Vikings and the precursor of modern Icelandic. Several other words seemed to have Russian, Serbian, or Slavic derivation and these were also identified. Most of the words relate to the sea -- precisely the type of verbal communication that could be expected from a Viking warrior.

Doctor Thor Jakobsson, a research scientist with Canada's Department of the Environment and an expert on the Icelandic language, studied the transcripts produced by Harold and concluded that many of the words -- including those for "storm," "heart," and "iceberg" -- were "definitely of Icelandic origin." That some of the words had their origins in other languages only added to the authenticity of the script, said Dr. Jakobsson, because the restless, warlike Vikings roamed to the far corners of Europe.

In recalling Harold's purported life in Mesopotamia, Whitton asked him to write down the words for common concepts, such as "brother," "house," and "clothing." The authors continue:

Holding the pencil very lightly, Harold carefully created a mysterious, Arabic-style script in a spidery, childlike hand....

Unsuccessful in matching his patient's supposed calligraphy with ancient scripts in library books, [Whitton] eventually submitted the pencil markings to Dr. Ibrahim Pourhadi, an expert in ancient Persian and Iranian languages at the Near Eastern Section of Washington's Library of Congress. After close examination of the samples, Dr. Pourhadi maintained that [they] were an authentic representation of the long-extinct language called Sassanid Pahlavi, which was used in Mesopotamia between A.D 226 and 651 and bears no relation to modern Iranian. [pp. 154-156]

I've quoted these excerpts at some length because they are the book's only report of an attempt to verify the accuracy of a patient's past-life recollections. As Whitton says in his Introduction,

In this book we do not review the evidence. That is worth a book in itself and has been done before. Instead, we proceed from the assumption that reincarnation is true. We do not assume, however, that every report of a past-life memory obtained under hypnosis, or claim of a spontaneously remembered past life, is what it purports to be. The issue of proof is not simple. There are important hidden assumptions in the theory of reincarnation as well as complex psychological issues in a memory of a past life. We do not articulate these issues in this book, but believe we have addressed them and have included only those cases wherein the hypothesis of past lives is the only valid one.

In the end, I don't know for sure if Whitton's cases establish reincarnation or not. Certainly his work provides much food for thought. The view of multiple rebirths, with each new life designed to resolve a specific problem and advance spiritual development by one more step, is intriguing and makes a certain amount of sense. But the melodramatic stories and general lack of verification provide grounds for doubt.

What the book does demonstrate is the incredible power of the mind. Whether the mind is seen as cooperating with other intelligences to design myriad lifetimes, or as confabulating these things in order to effect emotional and physical healing, it's still a powerful force. Add PK for physical manifestations and some kind of cryptomnesia or super-psi to explain the xenoglossy, and the mind becomes a much greater thing than we ordinarily realize.

Perhaps this insight is the real takeaway of Life Between Life.

Between lives

So far I've read about half of Michael Newton's well-known book Journey of Souls, a record of the author's experiments in past-life regression through hypnosis. Actually, past-life regression is a bit of a misnomer in this case, since what Newton actually focuses on is what he calls the "life between lives." That is, he places his subjects in a state of "deep hypnosis," then asks them to describe their experiences between the earthly incarnations. The result is a detailed but, to my mind, not quite convincing depiction of the after-death (or pre-birth) environment.

There are several reasons why I'm not altogether sold on Newton's work. For one thing, it is well-known that subjects under hypnosis have a tendency to confabulate -- to make things up in order to please the hypnotist. (See D. Scott Rogo's book The Search for Yesterday for a detailed discussion of confabulation and the related topic of cryptomnesia.) Newton asserts that people in "deep hypnosis," unlike most hypnotic subjects, cannot confabulate, but he provides no evidence to back up this claim. 

One of Newton's arguments in favor of the veracity of his subjects' accounts is that they tend to agree with each other. But he also says that many of his patients approached him after being recommended by friends who had undergone the therapy. It seems likely, then, that some patients came into the process with preconceived notions of what to expect, which could explain the relative consistency of the reports.

From the fairly brief excerpts of the sessions presented in Newton's book, it's hard to know how much he may have unwittingly led his patients. Sometimes patients do contradict him or argue with him, but only over minor details. It is at least arguable that the general overview of the experiences they report is constructed out of conversations with Newton's other patients and Newton's own expectations. 

Another issue that arises in hypnosis is ESP. In the 19th century there was a great deal of interest in a possible connection between the hypnotic trance and telepathy. Experiments done at the time seemed to indicate that people who have been hypnotized demonstrate enhanced telepathic abilities; in other words, they are more receptive to other people's thoughts. I can't help wondering if Newton's patients are picking up his own thoughts and simply reciting them back to him.

Although Newton says he has obtained many descriptions of past lives on earth, he does not seem to have made any effort to corroborate these stories. In one case recounted in Journey of Souls, a patient recalls a life in the 19th century as an Oklahoma prosecutor named Ross Feldon, who committed suicide at age 33 (p. 57). This is the kind of thing that could probably be checked by poring over historical records, but Newton makes no mention of trying to confirm the account.

When it comes to the "life between lives" reported by so many of his patients, there is no way, even in theory, to empirically confirm the stories. We are left having to compare them to accounts provided by near-death experiencers and mediums. Though there are some areas of overlap, there are also significant discrepancies. The life review, described in so many NDEs, is absent from Newton's reports. His subjects say they talk about the events of their earthly lives with their spirit guides, and they may look through books that contain moving images drawn from their past lives, but there is no description of any holographic reliving of one's life.

There also is very little discussion of what has been called Paradise or Summerland -- the earthlike environment of the afterlife, featuring gardens, meadows, houses, birds, etc. Some of Newton's subjects do recall studying in a beautiful library, but for the most part the afterlife environment, as they depict it, seems to consist of blobs of color (which are souls) zipping around in a rather abstract geometric setting. It reminds me a little of the old sci-fi movie Tron.

Information that comes through mediums usually indicates that the topic of reincarnation remains controversial even among the departed, with some of them expecting to be reincarnated and others believing differently. But if Newton's accounts are to be believed, there couldn't be any confusion in the matter, because the newly departed soul is almost immediately reunited with its friends from other lifetimes, and proceeds to spend nearly all of its time in heaven preparing for its next incarnation. There is really no way to reconcile these contradictory accounts, so either the channeled information is wrong or Newton's information is wrong (or both are wrong).

One thing that makes me a tad suspicious about the claims elicited by Newton is that his patients become evasive or uncommunicative when difficult questions are put to them. Newton interprets this as meaning that they are "blocked" from divulging certain details, but another interpretation is they've been confabulating, and when they reach a point where their imagination fails them or they aren't sure of the answer a therapist wants to hear, they clam up.

It may seem that I'm being overly critical. If so, one reason is that I'm not particularly inspired by what I've read so far. At this point, I'm finding Journey of Souls to be a rather blah and uninspiring vision of the hereafter. I'm not sure I want to be a blob of color drifting among other blobs, trapped in an endless cycle of earthly incarnations punctuated by tedious classroom lessons. As far as I'm concerned, the visions of the afterlife presented by Swedenborg and later mediums, as quaint and old-fashioned as they may seem to some, hold considerably more charm and appeal.

This personal preference on my part doesn't mean Newton is wrong. It does mean, however, that I will need to see a lot more evidence before I'm convinced.

The case of Gretchen

Here's an interesting example of past life recollection under hypnosis combined with xenoglossy -- the ability to speak a language that one has never learned -- as reported in Chapter 14 of Robert S. Bobrow's worthwhile book, The Witch in the Waiting Room: A Physician Investigates Paranormal Phenomena in Medicine. Bobrow, an M.D., covers a wide variety of paranormal phenomena with an inquiring mind and a puckish sense of humor.

This particular case concerns Dolores Jay of Mt. Orab, Ohio. In 1970 her husband -- a Methodist minister and amateur hypnotist -- hypnotized Delores in the hope of curing her back pain. Bobrow writes:

During this session, when her husband [Carroll Jay] asked her if she still had pain, Dolores replied "nein" -- the German word for "no."

The problem was that neither of them spoke German. Intrigued, Reverend Jay re-hypnotized his wife three days later and tried to expand upon what had happened. Encouraged to speak German, in trance, she did. The minister asked the questions in English; Dolores replied largely in German, and in the voice of a young child. Since he could not understand her, Carroll found some friends who could speak German and had them listen to the sessions, which he had taped.

Dolores spoke German, under hypnosis, responsively, meaning she answered in German whether the query was posed in English or in German (some sessions were attended by German-speakers). Only she wasn't Dolores; she was Gretchen. And the time in which she lived, placed by events of which she spoke, would have been the late 19th century.

Bobrow acknowledges the difficulties in confirming past life regressions: the known tendency of hypnotized subjects to confabulate, and the scarcity of historical records necessary to verify the patients' claims. He goes on:

Suffice it to say that Gretchen's accounts were more or less consistent, including her last name (Gottlieb), the town in which she lived (Eberswalde), and her death -- a murder -- at about the age of sixteen. Not to mention the fact that she could speak German, and even used some archaic and obscure words.

At this point, Ian Stevenson enters the picture. Stevenson was a University of Virginia professor of psychiatry who traveled the world studying cases of children who spontaneously remembered past lives. He collected more than 2500 such cases, many of which included verifiable details.

What mainly interests me about Stevenson's involvement is the extraordinary effort he made to investigate the case. Bobrow tells us:

After a letter from Reverend Jay, about his wife, appeared in a psychic magazine, Stevenson contacted the Jays. His report of "The Case of Gretchen" was published in the Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research in 1976....

Stevenson speaks German, and first ascertained that [Dolores] was, in fact, responding to coherent German in her "Gretchen" mode. He then obtained assurances from the couple that neither had ever had any prior knowledge of the language; they even signed affidavits to this effect. Mrs. Jay would eventually take a lie-detector test in New York City, which showed that she believed she was telling the truth about never having learned German.

The focus of the paper is an investigation into whether to Dolores Jay could have learned to speak German at some juncture in her past, and perhaps had forgotten about it. She was born in Clarksburg, West Virginia, and at the age of two moved to a neighboring town. Her only German ancestry consisted of two great-great-grandparents on her mother's side, who had died many years before her birth. Stephenson interview [Dolores's] mother, who told him that she had never heard any family members speak German.

Carroll Jay ... was from the same area of West Virginia. He and Dolores were high-school sweethearts and married soon after graduation. Stevenson went back to the Clarksburg area where both Jays had grown up and interviewed nineteen relatives and neighbors of Dolores Jay, including her parents and a younger sister. All denied having any family or acquaintances who spoke German. No German books had ever been in the house. Young Dolores could not have toddled off to learn a foreign language unbeknownst to her parents, who kept a close eye on her (the parents also signed affidavits as to the truth of their reports).

Stevenson even found statistics as to the number of German-speaking persons in Harrison County, West Virginia, where the Jays' hometowns were located, but could find no one conversant in this language anywhere near the wondering range of a young, supervised child. Even the schools of Harrison County did not teach German at the time the Jays were enrolled there.

This certainly sounds persuasive, but before we draw any conclusions, we might consider some contrary information courtesy of Wikipedia. The online encyclopedia summarizes the Gretchen case as follows:

Gretchen, an American woman named Dolores Jay who presented the life of a teenage girl in Germany while hypnotized by her Methodist minister husband. Stevenson reported that the subject was able to converse in German. Mrs. Jay did study a German dictionary at one point during the sessions, but Stevenson pointed out that she had already spontaneously produced 206 words before this event. [Sarah] Thomason's reanalysis, while acknowledging that the evidence against fraud was convincing, concluded that Gretchen could not converse in German. Her speech was largely the repetition of German questions with different intonation, or utterances of one or two words. Her "German vocabulary is minute, and her pronunciation is spotty". When asked what she had for breakfast, she answers ‘Bettzimmer’, which is a non-existent word made up of the two words for 'bed' and 'room'. Moreover she had some previous exposure to German in TV programmes and a "look at a German book".

Wiki is not always the most reliable source, so I took a look at the paper cited, "Xenoglossy," by Sarah Grey Thomason (PDF here). Thomason writes,

Mrs. Jay's previous (remembered) acquaintance with German was confined to television programs and a look at a German book.... Mrs. Jay studied a German dictionary at one point during the relevant period, in an effort to learn enough German to please her ailing husband during subsequent hypnotic sessions; but Stevenson points out that Mrs. Jay had already produced 206 words spontaneously before this event.... Stevenson made great efforts to rule out fraud as a possible explanation for the subject's linguistic performance. His conclusion that there was no fraud is convincing ... though [Dolores'] desire to please [her husband] by manifesting the foreign [personality] might have encouraged [her] to pay close attention to any stray ... German phrases that came [her] way....

[Gretchen's] answers are largely confined to utterances of one or two words, and many of them are simply repetitions of the interviewer's question (but with declarative sentence intonation rather than question intonation). Gretchen's German vocabulary is minute, and her pronunciation is spotty....

Some of her pronunciations seem to be influenced by German spelling rather than by German sounds....

Gretchen says that she is illiterate, but at one point she writes about forty words (some of them repetitions) in German, with spelling errors that one might expect from an English speaker who had learned only a little German.... Stevenson is confident about the need for a paranormal explanation for the subject's linguistic performance. In a letter responding to criticisms of the Gretchen case, he says that `[a]lmost anyone might pick up casually a little German, but not the amount (small as it was) that Gretchen knew.'

This is the trouble with xenoglossy cases. Even experts differ as to how fluent in the language the speaker really is. And the possibility that the speaker acquired some of the language from forgotten sources -- such as TV shows or books -- can never be ruled out entirely. In this case, it's unclear to me what sort of television programs Mrs. Jay had watched. Are we talking about German-language TV shows, or (more likely) American movies and shows where some characters speak a smattering of German? I have seen movies with some German dialogue (in fact, I just watched one last night, Patton), yet I could not respond to questions posed to me in German, nor could I fake any knowledge of German.

Then again, maybe under hypnosis I could.

Stevenson's conclusion about the Dolores Jay case was simply "that responsive xenoglossy derives from some paranormal process." Even this relatively cautious statement may be going too far.

Bobrow adds:

As for the reverend, although he had dabbled in hypnotic regression previously, he had made no attempt to accomplish this with his wife. In fact, [he] found the idea reincarnation somewhat incompatible with the teachings of Christianity, nor did he care for the concept of possession, which bespeaks of the devil. The couple also had no involvement with parapsychology or cults. But despite their own bewilderment, the Jays felt that something had transpired that was worthy of scientific study.

On this, at least, all open-minded inquirers can probably agree.