37- Your energy

I walked among the furniture and the glass table, searching for children, but I didn't have any children, only the knowledge of not having children was in my mind. Not having children filled me with sadness. I felt empty, I didn't have them and I wouldn't have them again. A name came to my mind. A name that I had never given importance to suddenly had a lot of meaning: Isadora. I was forced to leave that room and go back up the stairs. I didn't want to go up, not yet, I wanted that person I had been waiting for to arrive. Who was it? The sound of the sea resonated in the living room with a charming harmony, that place was like being at home, my home. I climbed heavily up the stairs and left that room, entering the light again. I returned to the wooden attic with the door on the floor where I had started the descent. Now pink striped lilies covered one of the wooden walls next to a small, thin green vine, they had bloomed in my absence. But the living room was just as before, completely empty and illuminated by the sun. The only sound was the creaking of the wooden floor with each step. Since I was a child, I felt incredibly drawn to rooms covered in wood. I used to go up to my grandparents' attic in Venezuela just to sit with my back to the window and feel the sun warming my skin while I lay face down on the wooden floor. Now I understood why I liked feeling the sun and the smell of wood so much. That room was the connection of my soul with past lives. My personal and secret sanctuary. Finally, I opened my eyes on the count of three, one, two, three. I found myself in the office of Dr. Mercedes Pulido. Now the doctor looked even more radiant, as did everything around her. The vision I had to observe reality was full of peace and vitality.

When Dr. Mercedes heard what I had seen during the regression, she instantly knew it was the life of Isadora Duncan. I had never heard of her. Dr. Mercedes told me that she had been a famous contemporary dancer from the 1920s, skeptical that I could have been a famous dancer in my past life, Dr. Mercedes urged me to search on Google. She asked me to search on my phone for some information or clues that could better place us. Still doubtful, I typed the words Isadora, sea, and piano, and to my surprise, it was on Wikipedia. Isadora Duncan, an American dancer living in Paris.

Wow! - I looked in awe at Isadora's photograph. She was a beautiful woman, truly stunning.
You were Isadora Duncan, Anastasia, your soul is as sensitive and wise as only art and pain can instruct a dancer who died centuries ago. The dancer Isadora Duncan grew up influenced by the sound of the sea in her house in San Francisco, years later she would define her dance as the free muse where every movement was guided by the sea. She wrote poems about dance and the movements of the sea, she grew up listening to the piano her mother always played for her and her sister. She had a sister named Isabel. Many of those things were characteristic of me, the love for the piano and poetry. The movement of the sea captivated me, the subtlety of dancing ballet and flamenco from a young age was part of my being. Although I stopped dancing, the natural movement of my free body was something I enjoyed feeling fully.
Isadora Duncan was bisexual, she became an alcoholic after losing her two children in a car accident, the car fell into the Seine River in Paris and her children, Patrick and Deirdre, drowned. Isadora dedicated her life to dance and years after losing her children, she married a Russian poet. She strongly supported communism and sympathized with the Soviet Union. Because of this, she was heavily criticized when she returned to the United States after the fall of the old regime. After numerous public scandals, she divorced her husband and returned to Paris. She lived a joyful, libertine life, often bordering on scandalous, surrounded by her friends, she enjoyed luxurious parties and pleasurable trips. She tragically died at the age of 50, suffocated by a scarf that got caught in the car's motor while she was traveling. I remembered that strange fear I used to have when I wrapped silk scarves around my neck. I could use knitted or gabardine scarves, but whenever I wrapped my neck with a thin fabric, I felt that uneasiness of lacking air. The last time I felt that was in Melisa's car, that time in the hospital parking lot. If all of that was true and in my other life, I had been Isadora Duncan, maybe my tendency to feel everything in excess would make a lot of sense. I also read that Isadora died precisely in that car accident because she was going to meet a French man she was attracted to. Apparently, from my old life at age 50, I was just as passionate as I am now, finding purpose only through art and the passion of being in the arms of a lover. I was surprised and somewhat proud that my biography was on Wikipedia, but also disappointed to see the tragic life she had lived in contrast to my artistic life dedicated to dance. Isadora had affairs with French poets and artists dedicated to fashion and literature. Perhaps if I had been Isadora Duncan, or maybe it was a coincidence that I saw all that and it coincided exactly with that dancer I didn't know about until that day. I don't know, I will never know. But from that day on, I would think that in my other life, I was a devoted dancer named Isadora Duncan and that I shone brightly like a star in several previous lives.

However, knowing that didn't get us closer to the main problem, and the reason for my consultation. My state of melancholy. Dr. Mercedes said that being bisexual for years and having suffered terrible losses like the loss of my children predisposed me, from the beginning, to carry certain traumas rooted in me. That's what caused the depth of my feelings. There was no trace of Paola in that regression, and I needed to work through my feelings towards Paola.

I couldn't assume that she had been one of those girlfriends that Isadora Duncan had because Paola could have even been a man in another life. Nor could I be sure that she was in my other life. I looked up the biography of a few of the French dancer's past girlfriends, and there was a writer named Mercedes de Acosta who had great love affairs with incredibly beautiful actresses. There was an Eleonore who seemed like a strong lesbian even back in the last century. I wondered which of my ex-girlfriends could have been this Eleonore. I enjoyed imagining my former lovers from a possible past life. Isadora had a friend who wrote a biography about her called "Isadora: An Intimate Portrait". While other female poets referred to her as "Isadora, the Dancer of Pain." Apparently, suffering from past centuries had been my way of life, not counting the numerous male and female lovers I had as Isadora Duncan.

Isadora Duncan had two books, an autobiography called "My Life" written in French, and another called "Isadora, the Dancer of the Sea." There was even a film adaptation directed by Karel Reisz, a movie that I promised myself I would watch with Melisa that night. I was filled with curiosity about my past love life, although I had no interest in studying Isadora Duncan, after all, if I had been her, I didn't need to relive the past.