by Gina Cerminara

Love being a matter of the relationship of one unit of life to another, it is worth noting that in the Cayce data there is a basic proposition regarding human relationships. It can be stated as follows:

Souls who were closely related in one lifetime tend to meet in other lifetimes. If the relationship was one of love, the love persists; if one of enmity, the enmity must be overcome; if one of obligation, the obligation must be paid.

This is a plausible proposition, surely; for if we grant the continuity of life at all, and the operation of law governing it, it would seem likely that the powerful force of attraction between souls would have its own strong persistence; and wherever there has been hatred, deeds surely must have been done which require karmic rectification and hence a renewed association. Even in a love relationship there is usually a mixture of good and of bad; and all of us must have incurred debts therefore which we must pay, or deserved rewards which must be delivered.

For the full understanding of human relationships several other propositions must be taken into consideration.

Souls incarnate sometimes as a man and sometimes as a woman.

This idea is sometimes repugnant to people—men and women alike—but, apart from the evidence that exists for it, the alternation of sex is both psychologically and philosophically reasonable. For how else could the soul achieve a well-rounded balance unless it had been both active and passive, both dominant and subservient, both positive and negative, in many experiences?

Evolving souls incarnate sometimes in one race and sometimes in another.

This notion, too, is abhorrent to some people—principally to those who consciously or unconsciously are convinced of the superiority of their own present race. There is considerable evidence to substantiate race change as well as sex change; and it is not only philosophically and psychologically but also anthropologically reasonable that such changes must take place. The history of mankind has been long and varied, and the races that now exist in certain relations of dominance and subservience are different from races that existed before in other patterns of relationship.

There are other important basic concepts, of course, but these three are of particular significance as regards human relationships. If we grant the truth of these propositions, we will see at once that a fascinating series of permutations and combinations must take place. In one existence two entities may know each other as friend and friend; in the next as parent and child; in another as sister and brother; in still another as husband and wife. In one incarnation entity A may be a male in Turkey, who abuses and mistreats entity B, a female slave in his harem. In the following incarnation entity B may be a male in Japan, and entity A, his wife, is completely under his domination. In one life experience an entity may be an Indian, made a slave by invading Spaniards and brutally mistreated; in the following life experience the same entity may be a white man, determined to see that justice be done to the defrauded American Indians, for whom he feels a peculiar sympathy.

These basic considerations suggest an analogy. Any human life situation is like the momentary position of a kaleidoscope; and the group of souls within that situation are like the bits of brightly colored glass which form an interesting pattern of relationship. Then the kaleidoscope is shaken by the Lords of Life, so to speak, and with this flick of the wrist there comes into being a new design, a new combination of elements. And so on, again and again, time after time, always different, always beautiful.

The image is incomplete, of course. Perhaps it is misleading. I do not mean to imply that there is a fixed number of souls, constantly being reshuffled. New elements and new individuals must always be entering the situation. All that I mean to say is that we do come together, again and again; and sometimes, if I may strain the kaleidoscope analogy, the juxtaposition of pieces is a jagged and uncomfortable one. But always it is significant, and always there is a dynamic and purposeful intention, even though this may not always be superficially apparent to the participators. The soul-self remembers, even though the personality-self does not.

An interesting illustration of this submerged awareness can be seen in a rather strange story told me recently by a highly respected Episcopalian priest. In his youth he had been a test pilot and later a musician in a symphony orchestra. One night he had the startling experience of finding himself outside his own body, looking down on it as it lay on the bed. He was then aware of being given instruction by some presence in another “dimension.” After some time he found himself back again in his body, but the experience was repeated again and again. As a result of this training he became clairvoyant, clairaudient, and aware of many of his own past lives. He also became intensely desirous of helping other people in some kind of spiritual relationship. Though a mature adult and one never before interested in religion, he left his career as a musician to study in a theological seminary. He related to me a vividly recalled past life experience when, as a priest in Atlantis, he liberated a group of persons from a dungeon. The other priests discovered what he had done and as punishment strapped him to a chair and with a large mallet bludgeoned him to death. The persons whom he had freed learned of what had happened, but were powerless to help him. In the present lifetime he knew a family in which every member seemed unusually desirous of helping him in every way possible. Curious as to the reason for this almost excessive kindness, which to him seemed undeserved, he looked upon them clairvoyantly and saw that the group of people whom he had freed from a terrible fate in Atlantis had come together in this closely knit family now; and that in every one of them there lay deep within a sense of gratitude and obligation. . . .

A story of this type is beyond verification, of course, in any strict objective sense. It would not meet any of the criteria set up by Dr. Stevenson for cases of past life recall. So we can evaluate it only on the basis of the integrity, intelligence, and general rationality of the man telling it, and at best accept it in a tentative way. But in any case the principles involved are precisely what we find in the Cayce readings, with which the priest was unfamiliar; namely, that souls closely knit in any relationship in one lifetime tend to come together in other lifetimes, and there are bonds of obligation between them.

Sometimes this obligation is felt and voluntarily discharged, as in the aforementioned case. Other times the obligation is felt, but the payment is so difficult that it is enforced by the inextricably of circumstances. Whenever we see an unbearably difficult life situation, from which there seems to be no escape, we can rest assured that the participants in it are held there by the long arm of karmic law—which means, really, by the consequence of some previous conspicuous failure to love.

A wife, for example, who has a neurotically critical abusive husband with whom she is extremely unhappy, yet cannot leave because of four small children, can be almost certain that she is in this situation because she has some obligation to this soul who is her husband as well as to these souls who are her children. Another case would be that of a young man, the sole support of an aged and sickly mother, who would like to marry but because of lack of education and training is unable to support both a wife and a mother. He loves his mother and does not wish to abandon her to charity; and so he is faced with the prospect of long years of bachelorhood and sacrifice. It is admittedly a painful situation. But perhaps in another lifetime and in other circumstances he had neglected the welfare of this being who is now his mother, and now he is given the opportunity of rectifying the neglect.

“Love is the fulfilling of the law,” Jesus said, and we may well interpret this to mean that as soon as a person can truly learn to love the disagreeable or restrictive person with whom he is involved, he will be released from the bondage.

This, then, is the first effect of the long-range point of view on life; it gives insight into relationships that seem unbearably difficult.

Another effect is to clarify what seem to be irrational attractions between people, especially relationships which seem strange, bizarre, or somehow indefensible by conventional standards.

Homosexuality, for example, is a love expression which rouses much antagonism among heterosexual people. Often we see two homosexual men (or women) establishing a home together and living together as man and wife. However well-ordered their domestic arrangement, and however constructive their contribution to society otherwise, most people tend to despise such a relationship and look upon it with reactions ranging from contemptuous disgust to sophisticated amusement. I personally do not feel that homosexuality is the best solution of man’s sexual predicament; the whole universe seems to be founded on the principle of polarity and therefore the normal male-female attachment seems to be more in alignment with cosmic principles.

However, on the path of growth, aberrations and irregularities do appear. A being who has been in the female body many times and then incarnates in a male body may find it extremely difficult to act in an acceptable masculine manner; so called “effeminacy” is then conspicuous, making it both psychologically and biologically difficult for the person to play the male role. The individual may not masculinize himself, so to speak, in this lifetime; but he will at least have been made aware of his weaknesses and hence better prepared to complete the balancing process in the succeeding life.

An interracial marriage is another relationship of which people generally tend to disapprove. The soldier who marries a Japanese girl, the white woman who marries a black man, the American woman who marries a Filipino—the mere mention of such alliances may cause some persons to feel an immediate sense of antagonism. This is perhaps a throwback to the early history of the human race when a marriage outside the tribal group was considered dangerous and taboo; perhaps it is due to that egocentricity which characterizes all races and causes them to believe their own racial group is superior.

But whatever the origin of the antagonism, the whole situation falls into an entirely different perspective when viewed from a reincarnationist point of view.

Could it be possible that the American soldier and the Japanese girl were man and wife before, both of them Japanese in that lifetime, or both of them Americans? Could it not be conceivable that the white girl who married the black man was a slave owner in early America who incurred as a serious debt to the soul of the black slave who, again as a black, is now her husband? Could it not have happened that the American girl and the Filipino boy were brothers centuries ago in Crete, and one betrayed the other for reasons of social advantage, so that now this soul is given the opportunity of redeeming the betrayal by a loyalty even in the face of social ostracism?

Similar considerations can be brought to bear on any other type of unusual love relationship, whether the disparity between the partners by one of social standing, wealth, education, age, or intelligence.

I do not mean to imply that all foolish relationships and all trivial affairs in the present are to be excused in the name of a past life involvement, or that karma should become the alibi for every present-life folly. All too many people confuse bad management with destiny, and bad judgment in the present with karmic necessity from the past. I am merely saying that in some instances, perhaps most instances, of a strong intense relationship between people—especially when that relationship is difficult and inescapable, or when it is not conventional, usual, or explicable in ordinary terms—the roots of the relationship are to be looked for in the past.

The result of this point of view is to promote a less critical and more tolerant attitude on the part of the observer. This of itself is no small matter. A newspaper in Ontario once carried this announcement: “You may notice some typographical errors in this paper. They were put in intentionally. This paper tries to print something for everybody and some people are not happy unless they find mistakes.” And this sums up a typical human propensity.

Across the street from the public library in downtown Los Angeles there stands, visible for many blocks around, a high, huge, neon-lit sign reading: JESUS SAVES. It is a sign which must have meaning for a great many people; at least it has stood there for many years at the annual cost of heaven knows what on the part of the Bible School which supports it. But every time I see it it sets me wondering what words I would erect in neon lights, given the permission and the wherewithal to do so.

The sentence that I usually decide upon is: JUDGE NOT THAT YE BE NOT JUDGED—largely because I find truth in it at so many levels of truth and because a day hardly passes that I do not observe how quick people are to judge and criticize. Criticism is an unfortunate, even a dangerous, habit. Dangerous, I say, because if the Cayce readings are to be believed, serious karmic consequences can be set in motion by critical speech. The circumstances which we pass judgment on become our own situation at some future time, so that we can come to understand the inner necessity for everything.

The realization that each man’s life, and each woman’s life, with all its peculiarities and aberrations and its love relationships or the lack of them, is precisely the best situation in which this soul can work out its own life sums can give our critical tongues pause. “My life is not a spectacle but a life,” Emerson said. It is a wise thought, and one worth remembering both with regard to oneself and with regard to others.

The many-life hypothesis, then, clarifies much in human relationships, and through the clarification helps us to become less intolerant. It also leads to a sense of spiritual perspective and an understanding of the purpose behind all love experiences.

Excerpt from Many Lives, Many Loves

See Part II here.