Doorways to Timelessness: How I Remember My Past Lives
Janet Kira Lessin | Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D. | © 2026 Aquarian Media · Oct 27, 2026
Title image prompt: A red-haired woman in her seventies sits up in bed at dawn on Maui, a cat curled at her back, while a spiral staircase of glowing doorways rises from her bedside into a starfield. Each doorway frames a different life: a Viking farmer hauling stone, a village woman by a hearth, conjoined twins in the Andes, a tall humanoid terraformer before a volcano. Collage style, warm gold and deep indigo, large high-detail format.
Stepping Out From Behind the Curtain
Image prompt: Janet turns from a theater stage toward the audience, the painted backdrop of past lives behind her, a single spotlight on her face.
You and I have traveled through many lives together in these pages. You stood with me in Henry’s court, walked the hills of Galilee as Miriam, and watched the lava take my body as Ki’ra. Now I step out from behind the curtain and speak to you directly.
These memories belong to me. I hold them as they arrived, without a courtroom, without a judge, without a verdict. I lived them, I felt them, and I accept them.
That acceptance opened the door. Every life I share with you came through because I gave it permission to come.
In the theater, a stage has three walls: the back and two sides. The fourth wall is the invisible one at the front, between the actors and you in your seat. Actors play as if that wall stands solid and the audience sits somewhere far away. When a character turns, looks straight at you and speaks, the actor breaks the fourth wall. That’s what I’m doing now. I’m setting the story down, turning to face you, and talking with you heart to heart.
Crazy, or Remembering?
Image prompt: Janet faces a theater audience of skeptical, curious faces, some with raised eyebrows, while behind her a row of her past selves, from a Viking farmer to a Tudor queen, waits in the wings.
I can hear the questions from the seats. How can one woman remember so many lives? Why does she keep turning up as famous people, a queen of England, a lady of Elizabeth’s court? She must be crazy, right?
Here are my answers.
I practice. Most people never knock on the door, so the door stays shut. I have knocked my whole life, through every method in this chapter. A pianist who practices for sixty years plays more music than someone who never sits at the bench.
Most of my lives carry no name. A woman bleeding out by her hearth. A Viking farmer hauling glacier stone. A lover on a mountain as Atlantis sank. Twins on an Andean peak. For every queen, I remember a dozen ordinary souls who lived and died with nobody writing their names down. The famous lives draw the spotlight, and the nameless ones fill the stage.
A Time Lord goes where history turns. My oversoul, Ki’ra, works through her avatars to read the timeline and correct it. Correction happens at the hinge points, the courts and crossroads where one choice bends the future. So she places me there, again and again, in the bodies standing closest to the hinge.
Reflection keeps a mind healthy. I run Aquarian Media, guide clients, write books, and tend a community farm on Maui. Looking inward does not unmoor a person; it anchors her. Healthy people stay healthy because they reflect.
Sasha’s view: the archetypes stand ready. My husband, Sasha, offers a Jungian lens. Past and present split apart only in our language. Every archetype stays available at all times, and we reach the ones that resonate with what we live now. When I see a past life where I rage at Sasha, that life echoes an anger alive between us today. The Greeks said to honor all the gods. Keep your favorites and bring more offerings to their shrines, but neglect any god and it turns demonic and haunts your dreams until you notice it and see where it fits in the layers of your personality. Even the public face you show the world, the persona, works as one more subpersonality, one more archetype among the many.
So I invite you to hold your verdict and try a door yourself. Your own memories make the only proof that matters to you.
Acceptance Opens the Door
Image prompt: A heavy wooden door swings open by itself as a woman lays her open palm on it, golden light and faint figures from other eras pouring through.
People ask me why I remember so many lives. My answer: I worked on it my whole life, and I accept what comes.
The mind guards its doors. When you insist past lives belong to fantasy, the guard stays at his post. When you accept that past lives exist, the guard steps aside and the memories walk in on their own.
“Accepting my memories allowed them to come through to me.”
Acceptance works like an induction you give yourself. Each morning I grant myself permission to remember more, and more arrives.
A Childhood Made of Timelessness
Image prompt: A 1960s Pittsburgh summer night, two girls in sleeping bags on a wooden porch under fireflies, while faint ghostly figures from earlier centuries gather at the edge of the yard.
My first memory of another life came in the crib. I lay there and remembered being Jules, a life Sasha and I have since explored in depth.
I grew up in the 1960s, before phones in every pocket and television past midnight. On summer nights we dragged sleeping bags onto the porch and told ghost stories until the talk turned deep. One friend at a time, one sleepover at a time, we shared the things children carry. Those porches became my first therapy room.
Next to my uncle’s farm lay a cemetery, and the family won permission to bury him there because he loved the place. I would stand over the graves, touch a headstone, and whole lifetimes would flow into me. Hours passed in what felt like minutes.
Years later, at the Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh, I held my finger a breath away from the stone walls carried across the ocean. Visions and stories rose from them. Psychics call this psychometry. I called it listening.
“We lived in a form of timelessness where we could commune with the nature spirits and the ancestors.”
Dreams That Arrive Ahead of Time
Image prompt: A twelve-year-old girl asleep in a small bedroom, a translucent dream of a wedding veil and candlelight floating above her bed, a calendar on the wall flipping forward four years.
Many of my lives arrive through dreams. Some dreams repeat across a lifetime. Others show me people before I meet them, or tell me who they were when I do.
I met my first husband when I was twelve. That night I went home and dreamed our wedding day and our wedding night, years before I understood anything about a marriage bed. The dream puzzled me, because the honeymoon took place in the very bedroom where I slept. Four years later, at sixteen, I married him in November, a few months before my seventeenth birthday in February. On my wedding night I came full circle and thought, Oh yes. I dreamed this the night I met him.
I met my second husband, John, in a Pittsburgh park. A group of us from ICM School of Business had walked down at lunch, dodging pigeons and the people who fed them. I sat looking at my feet when a second pair of feet stepped into view, and a voice said, “I know one thing for sure. I’m older than her.” I looked up into the face of a handsome young man and heard myself think, Oh my God, that’s my next husband. He was.
Recognition works the same way with friends. When I met Ed, I knew him as Etienne, the fencer, my comrade from another life.
“I looked at his face and I went, Oh my God, that’s my next husband.”
The Many Doorways
Image prompt: A long cosmic corridor lined with doors of every era and material, carved wood, Andean stone, a spaceship hatch, a Tudor archway, each glowing from within.
Every path below led me into another life. They all arrive at the same place: a quiet, timeless state where the soul remembers.
| Doorway | How it works | What came through for me |
|---|---|---|
| Spontaneous recall | Memories surface on their own, often in early childhood | Jules, remembered from my crib |
| Meditation | Daily practice quiets the mind until other selves speak | After a year of meditation, Halsey Taft and four incarnations in one morning, until the alarm sent me to work |
| Dreams | Lucid and repeating dreams carry whole lifetimes | Catherine Howard and three other historic lives in the summer of 1993 |
| Hypnotic regression | A facilitator guides you into trance and asks open questions | The transparent being; the Andean twins with Dr. Sturgis |
| Peer hypnosis | Two friends take turns facilitating each other | Ki’ra the terraformer and the conjoined twins, with Missy over Penn State’s Christmas break |
| Holotropic breathwork | Fast, deep breathing and wordless music open an altered state | The village woman who died by the hearth |
| Tantra | Breath and sustained arousal raise kundalini up the grid of existence | Joy, the Source being; the Viking farmer |
| Shamanic practice and entheogens | Plant teachers taken with sacred intent carry you toward the light | Journeys toward God, guided by intention |
| Deep sharing | Honest conversation goes deeper layer by layer | Lives remembered on porches and at sleepovers |
| Automatic writing | The pen or keyboard runs ahead of the mind | Memories that flow up while I write this series |
| Guides | I speak with my guides and the Narrator who travels with me | Names, places and corrections |
| Remote viewing and astral projection | Consciousness travels out of the body to another time or place | Scenes witnessed from above |
| Genealogy | Reading an ancestor’s story drops me into their world | Street smells, market voices, loves and battles of my lines |
| Psychometry | Touch, or near touch, of stone and objects releases their stories | My uncle’s cemetery; the Carnegie Museum walls |
Ten Inductions That Open the Door
Image prompt: Ten small illustrated panels in a grid: a staircase, a figure floating above a house, an elevator panel, a blue glow, a rowboat to an island cave, a mandala, a rising spine of light, a body scan of glowing limbs, a bridge over mist, a bedside notebook at dawn.
An induction leads the mind into trance without leading the witness. A good facilitator asks open questions and lets you free flow. These ten have carried me and my clients into other lives.
- The staircase and the door. Count your way down a staircase, step by step. At the bottom stands a door. Reach for the knob, open it, and say what you see.
- Rise and look at your feet. Leave your body and float above the house, into the clouds, as high as you can go. Look down, then zoom into your body and study your feet. Bare or shod? What color is the skin? Describe the shoes. The feet anchor you in the life.
- The elevator. Step into an elevator and press the button for the time you want to explore. When the doors open, describe the scene in first person, present tense. Who stands there? Animals? Day or night? What happens next?
- The countdown and the color anchor. My sister counts the client back, then anchors the trance to a color such as blue. From then on, the word blue returns the client to that regressed state, ready to explore childhood, relationships or past lives.
- The wisdom figure journey. Sasha leads about 45 minutes of yoga, then everyone lies flat. A path leads to the water, a boat crosses to an island, and a cave holds a wisdom figure who gives you a gift. Back in the room, each person describes what they saw, heard and smelled, the figure, and the gift.
- The holotropic open door. Breathe fast and deep to wordless music. Begin with your own body and childhood, then go wherever you feel drawn: the cosmos, past lives, other worlds, other beings. Afterward, trace a plate on oversized paper and draw your experience in color as a mandala.
- The tantric ascent. Breath, laughter and sustained arousal raise kundalini until single waves merge into one continuous wave. Climb the grid of existence and, when your energy aligns with your voice, speak.
- The body scan. Relax each part of the body from the toes to the crown. When the body sleeps and the mind stays awake, ask, Where am I? Who am I?
- The feeling bridge. Hold a strong feeling from this life and follow it back across a bridge to the first time you ever felt it. Step off the bridge and look around.
- The waking threshold. In the minutes between sleep and waking, before your feet touch the floor, ask your guides for more. Stay still and let the images rise.
Keeping What Comes Through
Image prompt: A bedside table at first light holding an open notebook, a pen and a glowing phone, while water streams in a shower behind a translucent curtain lit with seven chakra colors.
Memories arrive in pieces, and each piece hides more beneath it. These habits help me catch them and draw out the rest.
- Revisit. Return to a memory again and again. Each visit uncovers another layer.
- Follow déjà vu. When a place or a face feels familiar, stop and explore it. Déjà vu marks a door left ajar.
- Stand in the water. In the shower, I let the water run over me, clear my chakras, and more memories rise.
- Give yourself permission. Tell yourself, I am ready to remember more. That sentence works as an induction.
- Write before you rise. I keep a pen and paper at my bedside. Before my feet touch the floor, before the bathroom, I jot keywords.
- Talk it out. When I share a memory with a friend or with my AI collaborator, I record the conversation, and the telling itself brings up more.
“You have one piece. There’s more underneath.”
Seeing the Eternal Being
Image prompt: Two friends face each other in candlelight; behind each one, a faint procession of their earlier selves stretches back into starlight, all of them smiling.
Altered states carry no danger for a healthy mind. They work as tools for reflection, the same way meditation does. We grow conscious through introspection: we find our wounds, love and accept ourselves, accept others, set boundaries, and learn when to stay and when to walk away.
When we share these memories, we witness each other. We listen, we receive, we love. Empathy and compassion grow, and we begin to see past the form a person wears today to the eternal being looking out through it.
That sight matters more to me than any single memory. We came to Earth on a mission, in human bodies, to share and to feel at depth. Remembering who we were helps us remember who we are.
More lives wait in the chapters ahead. Come with me.
“You start seeing beyond the form that person inhabits at that moment. You see the eternal being.”
Bells and Whistles
Research: Claudia Lenore
Janet bio. Janet Kira Lessin, CEO of Aquarian Media, is a lifelong contact experiencer, certified hypnotherapist and past life regression therapist who has guided thousands of clients and experiencers. She studied with Zecharia Sitchin from 1998 to 2010, built a family tree of more than 80,000 people, and writes the TIME LORD OF NIBIRU series from Synergy Community Farms on Maui.
Sasha bio. Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D., co-founded the School of Tantra and the World Polyamory Association with Janet in 1997. He co-writes their books and articles on the Anunnaki, consciousness and partnership.
Joint bio. Janet Kira Lessin and Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D., write, teach and broadcast together from Maui through Aquarian Media, exploring past lives, ET contact, the Anunnaki and the path from domination to partnership.
Author image prompt (for Minerva, three versions). Janet and Sasha face the camera, hands resting on a desk, framed by a collage of this article’s images: doorways, the porch at night, the wisdom figure’s cave, the mandala. Large, high-detail.
Alt text. Minerva writes alt text for each image as she generates it.
Substack call to action. If these doorways opened something in you, subscribe on Substack so the next life lands in your inbox. Please consider a paid subscription; your support keeps this series and our work alive.
References
- Ruth Montgomery, journalist and automatic writer
- Holotropic Breathwork, developed by Stanislav and Christina Grof
- Psychometry
- Ada Lovelace
Tags: past lives, past life regression, hypnosis, hypnotherapy, inductions, holotropic breathwork, tantra, déjà vu, dreams, psychometry, automatic writing, genealogy, consciousness, Time Lord of Nibiru, Janet Kira Lessin
Hashtags: #PastLives, #PastLifeRegression, #Hypnosis, #HolotropicBreathwork, #Tantra, #DejaVu, #Reincarnation, #Consciousness, #TimeLordOfNibiru, #AquarianMedia
YouTube title: How I Remember My Past Lives: 14 Doorways and 10 Inductions
YouTube description: Janet Kira Lessin steps out from behind the curtain of TIME LORD OF NIBIRU to share how she recovers past life memories: crib recall, dreams, hypnosis, holotropic breathwork, tantra, genealogy, psychometry and more, plus ten inductions you can try. Subscribe on Substack to follow the series.
YouTube tags: past lives, past life regression, hypnosis induction, holotropic breathwork, tantra, reincarnation, deja vu, Janet Kira Lessin, Time Lord of Nibiru
LinkedIn: After decades as a hypnotherapist and experiencer, I’ve mapped fourteen doorways into past life memory and the ten inductions I trust most. Acceptance comes first: permission lets memory through. New chapter of TIME LORD OF NIBIRU, now on Substack.
Facebook: I remembered my first past life from my crib. Since then: dreams, hypnosis, breathwork, tantra, a headstone at my uncle’s farm. Here are all the doorways I’ve found, and ten inductions to open your own. Subscribe on Substack and come remember with me.
X: 14 doorways into past lives and 10 inductions that open them. The first key: accept what comes. #PastLives #Hypnosis
Instagram caption: Every life you’ve lived waits behind a door. 🗝️ I’ve found fourteen ways in, and I’m sharing ten inductions to help you open yours. Link in bio to subscribe on Substack. #PastLives #Reincarnation #DejaVu #TimeLordOfNi
