Corbie’s Wayback Machine: Different Qualities Of Love
Our marriage has gone through lot of ups and downs (mostly downs) and it has mostly been because of the step children. We got separated in August 2008, but got back together in May 2009 after extensive counseling. The main issues were differences on finances and one of us wanting a child desperately. Although we haven’t had big problems since 2009 until now, it still feels like a loveless relationship. I just feel that I have not received true love from my relationships. My wife has kept her daughters interests (real or perceived) ahead of everyone that I am wondering if I matter to her at all. What I would like to know is the past-life experiences or plans that may be contributing to challenges in this life and what I can learn from those.
Vijay, you must differentiate between love for others and love for you by others. They are not automatically paired. Also, you have been badly handled in past lives, and the lack of love has given your soul a deep yearning to be loved, but you have little experience with it.
Your wife has been born mostly into equilineal or matrilineal societies – pre-history, Navajo, Iroquois, Crete, and Tuareg. In such societies, women made major decisions, owned land, and passed goods through the mother line. In the latest life, her current daughter was born her son, and would have proven a better leader/ruler than the daughter she had (you). She has almost exclusively been female. She does not do well with male lifetimes.
You have been born into societies of silence, where even though the line was patrilineal you were placed in situations where silence was required (monks or nuns) or highly favored (Society of Friends). Interestingly, this is not through your personality’s wish but that of your family in each incarnation. You also rarely marry well – hence the difficulty finding love this time.
The major lifetime in which you and your wife and stepdaughter were involved was in 10th century China, in a very isolated part of the mountains. Neelam was a very strong-willed matriarch, who held on to land and treasure with an iron hand. She was considered by others strict but fair. Your father was chosen for his good looks and biddable temperament, much as women are chosen today. Truth to tell, he was rather lazy, and did as little as possible as was required of him, preferring to spend his time whittling wooden toys and making a little music.
She had three children, of which you were the oldest daughter. However, you had many of your father’s traits of laziness and dreaming. Your younger brother, the middle child (in this life Tarangini), very much yearned for his mother’s approval and spent his time doing much more than most male children were expected to do. Your mother allowed him – in secret – to take over many of your responsibilities, but because it would have shamed her to admit that her son was more talented than her daughter, he was never given any credit. You simply assumed that this was the way it was always going to be. He was resentful but felt he could do nothing about it as long as your mother lived.
The youngest child was another daughter (in this life Urvaksh), who sided with you simply because you were female and the middle child was male. The youngest child was conniving, however, and awaited her time.
When the mother finally died and you, the eldest daughter, were installed as clan leader, you fell flat on your face in terms of leadership abilities, and within a few months, you were on the verge of being driven from the clan. Your younger sister then moved in and while seeming to defend you actually just cemented her place in the hearts of the clan, bribing her brother with the promise that when they had gotten rid of YOU they would rule jointly. Eventually you were virtually ignored by everyone, living a hollow life, while your younger siblings dealt with land, treasure and dictated clan rule. You ended your life isolated and confused as to how it all happened…
Finances came to the fore in a life in 16th century Italy. You were the only daughter of a wealthy Venetian noble. Your father was planning your marriage and contemplating husbands for you with the attention to detail and strategy of a master general – whoever married you was going to get his lands, his ships, and his gold. However, you fell in love with a boy destined to become a monk. You had no thought for what your attentions would do to his vocation, but simply saw him as “the boy you wanted to marry” and you believed there would be a way to convince your father to “buy him from the Church.” You had no concept of money, how it was to be used and cared for, only that it was for your pleasure and to get you what you wanted.
The boy truly had a vocation, and wanted to be a monk. He found your attentions distracting at best and very troubling at worst. Eventually, you wore him down. You were careless, however. You were caught with him in your father’s gardens behind the family townhouse. He was disgraced and packed off to be a soldier, as his family believed that placing him in a monastery would now sully the family name because it was clear he was immoral. In contrast, you were cloistered away in a nunnery where silence was required for the vast majority of the day, and you were confined to your cell (a small room with a prayer alcove) except when you were led out between two nuns for prayer and penance. You were there for a year and a half until your father found someone suitable for you to marry – older than you were by twenty years, with a reputation for coldness but proper societal behavior and a supporter of the Church.
You were married off to this man directly from the nunnery and went to live in northern Italy. There you learned what money was for. You were kept plainly clothed, plainly fed, and pregnant unless your husband wanted you for a social occasion. Then you were brought out from your rooms, washed, dressed in fine clothes, and paraded. Any time you misbehaved or were uncooperative, you were beaten, put back in your rooms, and starved. Because your husband was wealthy, he could buy spies; anyone that you tried to befriend, be it retainer or servant, someone would get wind of it and tell your husband. That person would be dismissed and a new person put in place, to the point where you assumed everyone was your enemy. You were more cloistered as a married woman than you were at the nunnery.
You gave your husband five children, only two of whom lived past the age of ten. The boy took after his father, the daughter after you in terms of behavior. However, when your daughter was married, she persuaded her father to allow you to go with her, and so your last few years were spent in relative freedom and relative comfort, though your spirit had long ago been broken.
19th century/early 20th century India: Here you sought a sense of independence and purpose. A middle-grade white-collar worker, a part of the Indian Railway system, you were studious, proper, and did your best to be a good son and husband. You married a girl of 13 in the 1880s, from Rajiput (again, Neelam in this life). She desperately wanted children, and you did in terms of wanting a boy to uphold the family name, but your wife was unable to get pregnant. You tried everything – ayurvedic medicine, prayer, puja. Nothing seemed to work. Eventually you gave up trying, though you continued to have relations. In 1895 she finally did conceive, but unbeknownst to you it was with a Rajput officer. When the child was born, you knew the moment you looked at it that it was not your child, but publicly stayed silent, as the child was a son and you were grateful for any descendant at all.
At that point you ceased having relations with your wife, as you found it distasteful to “taste another man’s leavings” – you let her know that you knew of her infidelity, but that you would save her life and keep her from shame as long as she kept quiet herself and kept herself modestly. She was treated well and civilly, but your rooms and lives from then on were essentially separate. The Rajput soldier never came back through your city, and she remained chaste, so there was no trace of what had occurred, except that when it was noted your son did not look like you, the tale was told of his “favoring his grandfather on his mother’s side” – who, of course, nobody had ever seen, so the story held. When she died in 1915 you did not remarry, more out of a sense of hopelessness regarding women than love for your dead wife.
You spent the rest of your life raising your son. He was both wise AND smart (two very different qualities) with a good sense of humor and a loving wife who welcomed you as part of their household. Both of you were covertly involved in the independence movement, being a team who understood business and commerce well enough to help India through her infancy in the late 1940s. You died of a burst appendix in 1951.
Past lives can bring us important information about the life we’re living now, and Corbie was instrumental in bringing this type of information forward for Robert Schwartz’s subjects in both YOUR SOUL’S PLAN and YOUR SOUL’S GIFT.
If you are interested in discovering how Past Lives are affecting your current life challenges, please click on our BOOK A READING button and choose a Soul Plan Reading.