Posted:
amazing update as usual
After reading the promo i cant wait for the next part
yuppee Manan meeting is nearing
Thanks for the pm dear
THE CONNECTION
Dr. Dhawan's point of view -
Sometimes life's most significant events are upon you before you are aware of them, like the silent approach of a jungle cat. How could you not have noticed something of such magnitude? The camouflage is psychological.
Denial, the act of not seeing what is right before your eyes, because you really don't want to see, is the greatest disguise. Add in fatigue, distractions, rationalizations, mental escape, and all the other businesses of the mind that get in the way. Fortunately destiny's persistence can pierce the disguises and distinguish that which you need to see, the foreground emerging from the background, like mastering one of those magic-eye pictures.
Over the past fifteen years, I have often treated couples or families who have discovered each other together in past lives. Sometimes I have regressed couples who simultaneously and for the first time have found themselves interacting in the same prior lifetime. These revelations are often shocking to the couple. They have not experienced anything like this before. They are silent while the scenes are unfolding in my psychiatric office. It is only afterward, after emerging from the relaxed, hypnotic state, that they first discover they have been watching the same scenes, feeling the same emotions. It is only then that I also become aware of their past connections.
But with Nandini and Manik, everything was backward. Their lives, and their lifetimes, were unfolding independently and quite separately, in my office. They did not know each other. They had never met. They were from different countries and cultures. They came to the office on different days. Seeing them both separately and never even suspecting a link between them, I did not make the connection. They had loved each other and lost each other across lifetimes.
Why didn't I see it before? Was it even my destiny? Am I supposed to be some cosmic matchmaker? Was I distracted, fatigued, in denial? Was I rationalizing away "coincidences"? Or was I right on schedule, the idea dawning at its sunrise, the way it was planned all along.
It came to me one evening. "Eli?" I had heard it from Nandini, weeks before, in my office.
Earlier that day, Manik could not remember his name. In a hypnotic trance, he had emerged in an ancient lifetime, one he had previously remembered in the office. In that lifetime, he had died after being dragged by leather-clad soldiers. His life ebbed away as his head rested in his beloved daughter's lap, and she rocked rhythmically with despair.
Perhaps there was more to learn from that time. Once again, he remembered dying in her arms, his life fading away. I asked him to look at her closely, to look deeply into her eyes and to see if he recognized her as someone in his current life.
"No," he sadly answered. "I don't know her."
"Do you know your name?" I asked, returning his attention completely to that ancient lifetime in Palestine.
He pondered this question. "No," he finally said.
"I will tap you on the forehead as I count backward from three to one. Let your name just pop into your mind, into your awareness. Whatever name comes to you is fine."
No name popped into his mind.
"I don't know my name. Nothing comes to me!"
But something came to me, popping into my mind like a silent explosion, suddenly clear and vivid.
"Eli," I said aloud. "Is your name Eli?"
"How do you know that?" he responded from the ancient depths. "That is my name. Some call me Elihu, and some call me Eli. . . . How do you know? Were you there, too?"
"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "It just came to me."
I was very surprised at the whole situation. How did I know? I have had psychic or intuitive flashes before, but not often. This felt as if I were remembering something rather than receiving a psychic message. Remembering from when? I could not place it. My mind stretched to remember, but I could not.
I knew from experience that I should stop trying to remember. Let it go, get on with the day, the answer would probably arrive spontaneously in a while.
An important piece of some strange puzzle was missing. I could feel its absence, hinting at a crucial connection still to be found. But a connection to what? I tried, not very successfully, to concentrate on other things.
Later that evening, the puzzle piece arrived suddenly and very softly in my mind. All at once, I was aware of it.
It was Nandini. About two months ago, she had recounted a tragic but touching lifetime as a potter's daughter in ancient Palestine. Her father had been killed "accidentally" by Roman soldiers after they dragged him around from the back of a horse. The soldiers had not really cared what happened to him. His mangled body, his bleeding heal, had been cradled by his daughter as he died in the dusty street.
She had remembered his name in that lifetime. His name was Eli.
My mind was working quickly now. The details of the two Palestinian lifetimes fit together. Manik's and Nandini's memories of that time meshed perfectly. Physical descriptions, events, and names were the same. Father and daughter.
I have worked with many people, usually couples, who have found themselves together in previous lives. Many have recognized their soul companions, traveling together through time to be united once again in the current lifetime.
Never before had I encountered soul mates who had not yet met in the present time. In this case, soul mates who had travelled nearly two thousand years to be together again. They had come all this way. They were within inches and minutes of each other, but they had not yet connected.
At home, with their charts filed away in my office, I tried to remember if they had shared other lifetimes. No, not as monks. One story but not two, at least not yet. Not on the India trading routes, not in the mangrove swamps of Florida, not in the malarial Spanish Americas, not so far in Ireland. These were the only lifetimes I could remember.
Another thought dawned. Perhaps they had been together in some or all of those times but had not recognized each other, because they had not met in the present. There was no face, no name, no landmark in the present life, no one to connect to the people in previous incarnations.
Then I remembered Nandini's western China, the timeworn sweeping plains where her people were massacred and where she and a few other young women were captured. On these same plains, which Manik pinpointed as Mongolia, he had returned to find his family, his kin, his people destroyed.
Manik and I had assumed that his young wife had been killed amid the chaos, destruction, and despair described in his recall. She had not. She had been captured and taken away for the rest of a lifetime, never to be held again in the strong arms of her Mongol husband.
Now those arms had returned through the hazardous mists of time to hold her again, to hug her sweetly to his breast. But they did not know. Only I knew.
Father and daughter. Childhood lovers. Husband and wife. How many more times throughout history had they shared their lives and their love?
They were together again, but they didn't know it. Both were lonely, both suffering in their way. Both were starving, and yet a feast had been set before them, a feast they could not yet smell or taste.
I was severely constrained by the "laws" of psychiatry, if not the more subtle rules of karma. The strictest of the laws is that of privacy or confidentiality. If psychiatry were a religion, breaching a patient's confidentiality would be one of its cardinal sins. At the least the breach could constitute malpractice. I could not tell Manik about Nandini, nor Nandini about Manik. Whatever the karma or spiritual consequences of intervening in another's free will, the consequences of violating psychiatry's main law were quite clear.
The spiritual consequences would not have deterred me. I could introduce them and let destiny take its course. The psychiatric consequences stopped me cold.
What if I were wrong? What if a relationship between them began, soured, and ended badly? There could be anger and bitterness. How would this reflect back on their feelings about me as their trusted therapist? Would their clinical improvement unravel? Would all their good therapeutic work be undone? There were definite risks.
I also had to examine my own subconscious motives. Was my need to see my patients become happier and healthier, to find peace and love in their lives, affecting my judgment now? Were my own needs urging me to cross the boundary of psychiatric ethics?
The easy choice would be to leave well enough alone, to say nothing. No harm done, no consequences. When in doubt, do no harm. Whether or not to write my first book was a similar and very difficult decision. Writing it endangered my entire professional career. After four years of hesitation, I had decided to write it. Once again, I chose to take the risk. I would intervene. I would try to nudge destiny along. As a concession to my training and to my fears, I would do it as carefully and as subtly as possible.
***
NEXT: Dr. Dhawan hatches a plot to make the connection happen.
DR. DHAWAN'S ATTEMPTS
Dr. Dhawan was wrestling with time, and it had him in a bear hug. Manik was about to finish his therapy and move permanently to Mexico. If Manik and Nandini did not meet soon, they would be in different countries, and the likelihood of their meeting in this lifetime would be dramatically diminished. Both of their grief reactions were resolving. Physical symptoms, such as quality of sleep, energy levels, and appetite, were better in both patients.
Their loneliness and their despair of finding a good and loving relationship remained intact.
Anticipating Manik's termination of therapy, Dr. Dhawan had reduced the frequency of his appointments to every other week. Dr. Dhawan did not have much time left.
He arranged for their next visits to be sequential, for Manik to follow Nandini in the hourly schedule that day. Everybody entering or leaving his office has to pass through the waiting room.
During Nandini's session, Dr. Dhawan worried that Manik might not come in for his appointment. Things happen-cars break down, emergencies arise, illnesses develop and appointments are changed.
Manik appeared. Dr. Dhawan walked into the waiting room with Nandini. They looked at each other, and their eyes lingered for longer than a moment. Dr. Dhawan could sense the sudden interest, the hint at worlds of possibilities lying under the surface. Or was this just wishful thinking on his part?
Nandini's mind quickly reasserted its customary mastery, telling her she needed to leave, cautioning her about appropriate behaviour. She turned to the outside door and left the offices.
Dr. Dhawan nodded to Manik, and they walked into his office.
"A very attractive woman," he commented, as he sat down heavily in the large leather chair.
"Yes," Dr. Dhawan answered eagerly. "She's a very interesting person, too."
"That's nice," he said wistfully. His attention had already begun to wander. He turned to the task of terminating their sessions and moving on to the next phase of his life. He had pushed the brief meeting with Nandini out of his mind.
Neither Manik nor Nandini followed up on this encounter in the waiting room. Neither asked for more information about the other. Dr. Dhawan's manipulation had been too subtle, too fleeting.
He decided to try the back-to-back appointments again, two weeks later. Unless Dr. Dhawan chose to become more direct and to breach confidentiality by speaking directly to one or both of them, this would be his last chance. It was Manik's final appointment prior to his move.
They gazed at each other again as Dr. Dhawan escorted her to the waiting room. Their eyes met and lingered even longer this time. Manik nodded and smiled. Nandini smiled in return. She hesitated for a moment then turned to the door and left.
Trust yourself! Dr. Dhawan thought to himself, trying to mentally remind Nandini of an important lesson. She did not respond.
Again, Manik did not follow up. He did not ask about Nandini. He was absorbed by the details of his relocation to Mexico, and he ended his therapy on that day.
Perhaps this is not to be, thought Dr. Dhawan. They were both improved, although not happy. Perhaps this was enough.
Dr. Dhawan's point of view -
You will not always marry your most strongly bonded soul mate. There may be more than one for you, because soul families travel together. You might choose to marry a less bonded soul companion, one who has something specific to teach you or to learn from you. Your recognition of a soul mate may occur later in life, after both of you are already committed to your present-life families. Or your strongest soul mate connection may be to your parent, or to your child, or to your sibling. Or your strongest connection may be to a soul mate who has not incarnated during your lifetime and who is watching over you from the other side, like a guardian angel.
Sometimes your soul mate is willing and available. He or she might recognize the passion and the chemistry between you, the intimate and subtle bonds that imply connections over many lifetimes. Yet he or she may be toxic for you. It is a matter of soul development.
If one soul is less developed and more ignorant than the other, traits of violence, greed, jealousy, hatred, and fear might be brought into the relationship. These tendencies are toxic to the more evolved soul, even if from a soul mate. Frequently rescue fantasies arise with the thought, I can change him; I can help her grow. If he does not allow your help, if in her free will she chooses not to learn, not to grow, the relationship is doomed. Perhaps there will be another chance in another lifetime, unless he awakens later in this one. Late awakenings do happen.
Sometimes soul mates decide not to get married while incarnated. They arrange to meet, to stay together until the agreed upon task is completed, and then to move on. Their agendas, their lesson plans for the entirety of this life, are different, and they do not want to or need to spend all of this lifetime together. This is not a tragedy, only a matter of learning. You have eternal life together, but sometimes you may need to take separate classes.
A soul mate who is available but unawakened is a tragic figure and can cause you great anguish. Unawakened means that he or she does not see life clearly, is not aware of the many levels of existence. Unawakened means not knowing about souls. Usually it is the everyday mind that prevents awakening.
We hear the excuses of the mind all the time: I'm too young; I need more experience; I'm not ready to settle down yet; you are of a different religion (or race, region, social status, intellectual level, cultural background, and so on). These are all excuses, for souls possess none of these attributes.
The person may recognize the chemistry. The attraction is definitely there, but the source of the chemistry is not understood. It is delusional to believe that this passion, this soul recognition and attraction, will be easily found again with another person. You do not run into such a soul mate every day, perhaps only one or two more in a lifetime. Divine grace may reward a good heart, a loving soul.
Never worry about meeting soul mates. Such meetings are a matter of destiny. They will occur. After the meeting, the free will of both partners reigns. What decisions are made or not made are a matter of free will, of choice. The less awakened will make decisions based on the mind and all of its fears and prejudices. Unfortunately, this often leads to heartache. The more awakened the couple is, the more the likelihood of a decision based on love. When both partners are awakened, ecstasy is within their grasp.
***
NEXT: Destiny at work.
Originally posted by: aseelashah
I read both updates together
About DR Dhawan finding connections of Manan I think you post the same chapter before cause when I read the chapter it happens to be familiar to me
The last update was as also amazing
Dr Dhawan's attempt to make them connect didn't go well as he thought
Now I am eagerly waiting for the next part
Pls update soon
Thanks for pm
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