A Tree Branching Out
By Janna Aidarkhanova
Certified Life Between Lives® Facilitator, Monaco
Lila came to me for her second session with a list of questions about the purpose behind her recent move to a new country and job, as well as changes in her personal life since her first session a year ago. It turned out to be a unique experience: instead of the usual regression protocol involving childhood or womb memories, Lila immediately connected with her Guide after a brief body relaxation. The Guide led her directly to a death scene from a previous life. After exploring the traumatic events of that life and understanding its early ending, Lila was shown an even earlier incarnation before she met with Elders in a beautiful spiritual sanctuary. There, she received guidance on her prepared questions for this lifetime.
When I asked Lila’s consciousness to take her to a place of safety and comfort, she described being inside a cylinder-like vessel of bluish-white energy: “very light, soft, translucent… like a vapor.” The narrower part extended down to Earth, while Lila and her Guide danced around the wide top section. The Guide had long white hair or a veil. When I asked about the Guide’s energy, Lila explained that it had no fixed gender but could shape-shift. On this day, the Guide felt more masculine. She recognized this presence: “When I meditate or drum, I feel my Guide hold my hands. He has come to me in many shapes: once as a white bird—we flew together above the Earth; another time as an ancient Indian with features like my great-grandfather… we are in permanent contact.” She even knew the Guide’s name: Valkt, meaning lightning in ancient Finno-Ugric language. “He’s ancient. Very strong. And sometimes difficult. When I get whiny or upset, he evades me and nudges me to get over it. But when tough things happen, he is always there.” On this day, Valkt appeared less material and more vapor-like, forming part of the rotating vessel. Lila said she could stay there forever— it was “super fine.” Yet Valkt wouldn’t allow her to merge with his energy, insisting she remain embodied. Her two power animals also appeared: a toad on her head and a lizard stretched across her body. They symbolized her grounding. “Such a great company… the four of us. It’s so light, very fun, very nice.”
Lila described sitting on the edge of the vessel like in a hot tub trailing through the cosmos. It felt like being on a mountain top above the clouds. Then suddenly she saw a young person standing on the edge of a grey, barren cliff beside a crude stone cross. “It’s really cold… and I’m in a body, wearing black clothes, gazing at the horizon.” She sensed desperation: “There is this longing to just jump or fly away.” Lila disassociated from the body, saying, “I think that person committed suicide. I see them on the ground below— a young man, maybe 17.”
He was a young priest in a black frock named Vik, or Viktor. He had been orphaned at five when his unwell mother wandered into the woods. Taken in by a priest in a very isolated village (possibly in Iceland or Greenland), Vik was known for his angelic singing voice and feminine features. Lila sensed the priest might have been his biological father. Vik longed to travel but the village was secluded.
A disease swept through the village. The priest and many others died. The place turned lawless. Lila, still an observer, described a brutal scene: Vik ambushed by a gang with sticks in the dark. He was blamed for surviving. The boy had nowhere to hide except near the church. The gang harassed him repeatedly until, chased again, he ran to a cliff and jumped. “His soul seemed to stay on the cliff as his body fell. It had already left the body before the leap.” Vik’s soul hovered, longing to go on a pilgrimage: to warm, lush places where oranges grow and springs flow. “He had flashes from a past life— probably in Greece— so he knew those places existed.”
Then Lila shifted into the memory of that earlier life. “I was a priest’s daughter in a temple… there were flowers, music, warm tiles, beautiful clothes, love and respect. It was close to the sea. Always warm.” She paused. “There is a teaching here: the same set of circumstances can lead to very different lives.” The girl in Greece had been shielded, loved, and admired, yet naive. She also died young at 17 from light illness, “like a petal falling.” Vik, by contrast, had a chance to flee but couldn’t move past his abandonment or find courage to start anew. “It was okay to leave,” Lila said. “He had gifts. He could have helped others. But he was stuck. Locked in his story.”
When I asked what the soul would do differently next time, Lila responded: “It needs to grow. It needs to become less simple. To see many sides of the coin, not just one predicament.”
Both lives had fragile beauty. The girl faded with illness. The boy jumped. Then Vik’s soul ascended, greeted by a moon-like smiling being. They cruised together to another island, Earth-like but in another dimension. “Like home. The guide’s energy filled the whole place.”
Was this a healing place? Lila replied that simply floating above the Greek island and seeing the two lifetimes in perspective had already brought healing. “They were clear-cut lives. One-dimensional. And by jumping, Vik never explored another version of the story.” Lila described a tree that never branched. She reflected: “That feeling of abandonment— seen from another side— is actually freedom. An opportunity. Not something to get stuck in.” She felt the Guide had created conditions for Vik to move: the mother’s departure, the priest’s death, even the village’s collapse. But Vik remained attached to the church, becoming its self-appointed guardian. That attachment led him into danger.
As if designing her next life, Lila envisioned a new adventure: one more multi-dimensional, complex, with more choice. Not an isolated island but a vibrant marketplace with intersecting paths. “Less spirituality around me and more practical, material-oriented people. That might help build robustness.” When asked what else the soul should explore, Lila said: “A more determined sexual identity. Fully embodied as a man or woman. Neither the priest’s daughter nor Vik were fully embodied. Both androgynous.”
She envisioned this embodiment allowing deeper partnership, parenting, caregiving, witnessing aging. “They never created anything. Not a church, a house, a ship, or even a garment.” The next life would explore that. “A richer web of relationships. Good and bad.”
She imagined herself scripting a life. Being born a woman in current times offered unprecedented opportunities: more sensitivity, openness to others, and access to “real spirituality not confined to scripture.”
Finally, I asked if there was a space for her questions to be answered. Lila found herself in a sanctuary with five pairs of columns under a pearly, shell-like roof. She sat in the center in a light brown gown and feathered headdress, surrounded by radiant Light Beings. Her Guide stood behind her.
Asked about her mission, the Beings said it was to develop “adaptability and independence.” She saw the image of a vast tree, where each life was a root, a branch, a leaf. “The more adaptable and strong, the stronger the tree. The more the tree flourishes.” She received guidance for her new job: that recognition would come. Her task was not self-promotion, but awareness, learning, attunement.
The feathered headdress had appeared in her life before. Today, it symbolized a new beginning. Despite cultural narratives about aging, Lila felt her real life was just beginning—with more awareness and curiosity. We closed the session with her grounding into the image of the tree, its many branches reaching out into the cosmos. ♥
Janna Aidarkhanova is an LBL Facilitator in Monaco, France, and Kazakhstan, and sees clients in-person and online worldwide.
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