Bide One’s Time: Japanese Woman Artist: An Account of Reincarnation

Over a period of three nights and days, an account of reincarnation involving myself has come to completion. Like any intelligent person who seeks to remember such an event, it can sometimes be both frightening and pleasant. In sharing this account with you, I have left nothing out and have recorded it precisely as it was revealed to me during periods of meditation and light sleep. I give you the full account without leaving anything out. 

This is the account of me as a young Japanese woman on her honeymoon with her husband. My husband is tall for a Japanese man. I am young, and he is young. We are on our honeymoon. We are in love, very much so.

I had forgotten how pleasurable it is to be a woman and to be in a woman’s body. There is much lovemaking on the large bed with light pink sheets. I remember keenly the pleasure I received and gave as a woman, and I remember how much a woman gives to a sexual relationship and how much she receives. Moments afterward, we kiss and laugh together like small children. I am a petite woman and fit warmly against his smooth chest, feeling his warm skin. The love we feel for each other is complete and enduring. We have been together in past incarnations. This time, I am the woman. I am enjoying the pleasures of being a woman in love. My husband and I please each other frequently on this soft bed.

Afterward, I glance around the room. I see two water color art works. One is of a red flower arrangement, and the other is of a mixed flower arrangement. They are hanging on the wall in thin frames. To the left of the red flower arrangement is a drawing of a mountain scene. I know intuitively that I am the artist who created these works. There is a small black stand which holds a lovely white vase with flying crane designs. We are honeymooning in my small house. I notice my husband’s military boots by the floor near the bed. The five large candles flicker brightly and I see the calendar on the wall. It is in Japanese, but I read the language fluently and see that the month appears to be October.

There is a horrible crunching sound. The calendar falls to the floor and the white vase with the flying crane designs flies across the room to land unbroken on the floor. The side of the house is falling away. My husband embraces me quickly, protecting me, and he sings softly in my ear, a sweet little love song we both cherish. The house is falling apart in the rumbling and shaking going on. Our naked bodies come together and we protect each other. The bed slides further and comes to rest against the shattered wall as the house shifts. The roof comes down upon us as the house is destroyed. I look into my husband’s eyes, and he looks into mine at the instant we die together. Darkness covers everything as death takes us away, and all sound stops. We are dead. A sense of peacefulness settles over me, and I am not afraid of death. I know my soul is immortal and will go on. 

There is my account. If it is published as I wrote it down, then you are reading an accurate past live happening which took place as I explained it. I lived it.

I have the following facts to pursue further: I was a young, petite Japanese woman artist. My husband wore military boots. There was an earthslide, earthquake, or explosion that destroyed the small house and killed my hu,band and me. When, where, what period of time? I have a clue as to the month which was October, or could that have only been a decorative calendar and the month something else. I believe I was in my early twenties in my incarnation as a Japanese woman artist and my husband was in his early twenties. We were both healthy and in love, and perfect for each other at that given moment in time. 

This is my account of personal reincarnation. I have shared with you the facts of that reincarnation. I have held nothing back. What you read is what I remember and am able to share with you. I have deleted nothing.