Should I Share: Patients’ Reflections on Disclosing Past Life Memories in Psychotherapy

Abstract

Spirituality has gained increasing legitimacy in psychotherapy; however, certain spiritual experiences, such as past life memories, remain marginalized in clinical settings. These experiences often arise outside therapy and may hold deep existential meaning for individuals, yet patients frequently hesitate to disclose them in conventional psychotherapy for fear of being pathologized. This qualitative study examines how individuals who experienced past life memories outside therapy decided whether to share them during psychotherapy, how therapists responded, and how these responses influenced the therapeutic process. Fifteen participants who had undergone conventional psychotherapy were interviewed using a hermeneutic phenomenological approach. The findings reveal that participants perceived their experiences as vivid and transformative, yet many refrained from sharing them due to concerns about stigma and clinical judgment. When disclosures occurred, therapist responses ranged from validating to dismissive, at times resulting in iatrogenic harm affecting the therapeutic alliance and patients’ willingness to continue. Participants expressed a desire for therapeutic spaces that could respectfully engage with spiritually meaningful experiences. The study introduces the concept of Spiritual-Psychoeducation as a potential framework for supporting the integration of such narratives in therapy. These findings suggest a need for expanded clinical sensitivity to anomalous spiritual experiences, divine gifts within the therapeutic process, as meaningful elements of psychological healing.

1. Introduction

The past two decades have seen a strong and growing call to address religious and spiritual concerns and experiences in conventional psychotherapy. Many researchers and clinicians, as well as professional organizations such as the American Psychological Association (APA), view the integration of religious and spiritual aspects in therapy as a professional obligation, legitimizing what had previously been considered to be outside the scope of conventional psychotherapy (Richards et al. 2023). However, some anomalous spiritual experiences are still neglected or conceived as less legitimate to discuss in therapy (Roxburgh and Evenden 2016a, 2016b, 2016c). The sharing of experiences of past life memories during conventional psychotherapy has not yet been studied as a therapeutic issue. While the peer-reviewed literature addressing clinical engagement with past-life experiences is limited, several dissertations, which have not been published in peer-reviewed journals, have explored this phenomenon in therapeutic or psychological contexts. For instance, Nielsen (2019) examined therapists’ reluctance to address spiritual disclosures, including past-life memories, and found that such hesitancy often stemmed from fears of professional judgment or concerns about introducing material perceived as outside the therapeutic frame. Christopher (2000) surveyed practitioners of past-life therapy and reported that many view it as a powerful and effective modality for addressing phobias, relational difficulties, and other psychological concerns, regardless of how the memories are interpreted. Hatoum (2024) investigated the psychological mechanisms underlying the emergence of past-life memories, concluding that while such experiences are subjectively vivid and emotionally significant, they may originate in subconscious processes shaped by imagination, suggestion, or partial amnesia. Lightbourn (2006) conducted a theoretical literature review outlining the clinical procedures, psychological assumptions, and therapeutic indications of past-life therapy, while also addressing its inherent limitations and the need for caution in its application.

However, with the exception of Nielsen’s study, these dissertations do not examine past-life experiences within the framework of conventional psychotherapy. This study begins to address this lacuna by examining the patient’s perspective on sharing these memories in conventional therapy and how they were navigated.

Belief in the afterlife or incarnations has existed in many cultures for decades. Reincarnation is a foundational belief in two major world religions, Hinduism and Buddhism (Egge 2002), and a fundamental societal principle in the Druze community (Halabi and Horenczyk 2020). The European Values Survey found that over 50% of Europeans believe in the afterlife and over 25% believe in reincarnation (Haraldsson 2006). In the late 1990s in New Zealand, 40% of the country’s population, which is predominantly Christian, reported believing in reincarnation (Saltzman 1994). Bronner (2011) noted that themes of resurrection, immortality, reincarnation, and the next world also appear in Judaism. However, in line with the global spread of pluralistic, nontraditional religious and spiritual conceptions, one does not have to belong to a specific religious institution to believe in reincarnation (Riis 2017). There are people worldwide, from atheists to followers of specific religions, who believe in reincarnation and even experience memories that they believe came from previous life incarnations (Peres 2012).

Following Peres (2012), this study considers memories from previous incarnations (referred to here as “past life memories”) to be internal narratives of experienced states of consciousness—different from dreaming or waking narratives—that can be central to one’s psychological healing processes (Irwin 2017) because they may change one’s perspective on the meaning of life. Studies have indicated that these memories are often related to distinct states of consciousness, experienced as meaningful (Tomlinson 2005) and powerful (Grof 2016). They are related to perceptual changes in all of one’s senses; the body’s sensations, emotions, and thought processes; and the emergence of significant insights regarding one’s current life incarnation. Despite the resemblance to a state of hallucination, the person is fully oriented and in contact with current reality. At the same time, their consciousness is experienced as existing in two dimensions of time and experience (Grof 2016).

Experiences of past life memories have appeared in the literature of psychiatrists and psychotherapists since the late 1970s (Grof 1975; Newton 1994; Stevenson 1980; Weiss 1988). One of the most significant researchers in this field, Dr. Ian Stevenson, a psychiatrist, documented dozens of testimonies that he suggested could reflect reincarnation. Most of the experiences documented by Stevenson and other scholars, such as Dr. Michael Newton and Dr. Brian Weiss, were of memories from hundreds and sometimes thousands of years ago in locations worldwide. In most documented memories, the person was a different human figure, additional characters often appeared, and there had been an interaction between the characters that sometimes even explained their deaths. The people describing these experiences reported having strong emotional and physical reactions, such as tears or bodily contractions, and sensations of heat, cold, sounds, and colors. The experiences often had a significant impact on patients’ insights. If the experiences occurred in a therapeutic psychotherapy setting that included openness and understanding of their relevance, processing them contributed significantly to the healing process and the patient’s personal growth (Newton 1994; Weiss 1992). These experiences of past life memories can emerge spontaneously (Grof and Grof 2010) or through use of specific techniques such as Past Life Therapy (PLT) (Netherton 2014; Tomlinson 2005), hypnosis or meditation (Newton 2004; Weiss 1992, 2002), holotropic breathing (using breathing techniques to switch between states of consciousness), or mind-altering substances (Grof and Grof 2010).

1.1. Integrating Experiences of Past Life Memories in Conventional Psychotherapy

Psychotherapy involves integrating a wide range of experiences and concerns in a person’s life (Bohart 1993; Clarke 1989; McLeod 1997). Many scholars, researchers, and clinicians have advocated that religious and spiritual concerns and experiences should also be integrated in psychotherapy (e.g., Pargament 2007; Pargament et al. 2014; Miller 2013). In fact, most clinical professional organizations, such as the APA and the American Counseling Association, call for including religious/spiritual questions in clinical intake (e.g., Cashwell and Young 2014), and more than a dozen articles and books have been published by the APA addressing various ways to implement the integration of spirituality in psychotherapy (e.g., Aten and Leach 2009; Brook 2021; Captari et al. 2022; Pargament 2013; Plante 2022; Sperry and Shafranske 2005). It is recognized as crucial, because spiritual and religious concerns and experiences are often a significant part of one’s belief system and form the core meaning schemas that individuals use to understand the world, their experiences, and their purpose in life (Park 2010). In the early 2000s, several studies evaluating the effectiveness of treatments addressing patients’ religion and spirituality underscored the ability of the patient’s religious belief system to reduce symptoms of depression (Dein 2006) and anxiety (Peres 2012). Smith et al. (2007) found spiritual approaches to psychotherapy to be effective and “that clients may particularly benefit when they learn to apply their own religious/spiritual beliefs to their mental health or well-being concerns” (p. 21).

The call to integrate spirituality in psychotherapy often comes from the need to consider and respect the patient’s sociocultural background (La Roche and Maxie 2003). This also holds true for patients experiencing past life memories (Peres 2012). However, the literature does not refer to processing such experiences in conventional therapy. While there may be questions on whether reincarnation is a real and valid phenomenon, Peres (2012) argues that that is not the issue; what matters is whether therapists should take into account the beliefs and experiences of their patients in the therapeutic process. Peres claims that a patient’s cultural framework and belief systems, including memories and experiences of past lives, are an important source of resources, difficulties, and crises in the healing process. He suggests that a therapist’s empathic approach can be beneficial for patients who believe in reincarnation or have a sense that the source of their difficulties lies in their past lives. Recognizing that such an approach is unconventional, Peres argues that there is no reliable way to distinguish between true and false memories (see also Bernstein and Loftus 2009) and that past life memories, like other anomalous experiences, may hold substantial psychological meaning. Studies have shown that perceptual anomalies such as voices or visions can occur across diagnostic categories and are not inherently pathological; their clinical relevance depends on distress, functional impact, and integrative capacity (Waters and Fernyhough 2017; Waters et al. 2018).

Roxburgh and Evenden (2016a, 2016b, 2016c) pioneered conducting studies with therapists and patients that addressed their experiences and attitudes regarding 15 types of anomalous experiences (AEs) that could be brought to and discussed in therapy, including mystical, peak, and out-of-body experiences. They used semi-structured interviews with patients (Roxburgh and Evenden 2016b) and therapists (Roxburgh and Evenden 2016c) and conducted two focus groups of therapists (Roxburgh and Evenden 2016a). Although the main findings regarding AEs were not specific to experiences of previous incarnations, their results cast light on a broad category of spiritual experiences that can inform the issue of addressing the experience of past life memories in conventional psychotherapy.

A key aspect that emerged from the patients’ interviews (Roxburgh and Evenden 2016b) was the fear of being labeled “crazy”, which kept many of them from disclosing their experiences in conventional therapy. They also raised the question of where to seek support and frustration at the lack of accessibility of therapists open to AEs. Patients’ interviews also revealed that, from the patients’ point of view, beneficial aspects of treatment included normalization and validation and that an “open-minded therapist” could explore the meaning of the experience in the patient’s world. Therapists (Roxburgh and Evenden 2016c) who had worked with patients who shared their AEs revealed that patients asked for permission to talk about their experiences and were reluctant to do so for fear of being seen as “mad”. The therapists signified the need to explore the meaning of the experience outside the patient’s point of view, not focusing only on self-interpretation. In the therapists’ perception, the experience should be normalized, and the patient should be informed that other people have experienced similar occurrences. The therapists also felt a responsibility to learn about experiences unfamiliar to them. The focus groups, composed of therapists during training (Roxburgh and Evenden 2016a), highlighted their lack of competency working with patients who reported AEs because they were not exposed to it during their training. Therapists also mentioned how the non-integration of those experiences in treatment might lead to anxiety or risk for the patients. They stated that the patient’s level of distress is crucial in diagnosing the patient’s condition as normal or abnormal, not the experience itself. The focus groups had mixed opinions on whether to explore AEs in the initial assessment phase of therapy. Roxburgh and Evenden summarized their insights from their studies by noting that therapists should explore AEs with their patients and help them find their meaning while identifying areas for further therapeutic work. Roxburgh and Evenden further emphasized the complexity of therapeutic work with AEs and recommended further research into particular types of AEs to understand patients’ different needs and preferences (Roxburgh and Evenden 2016b).

In line with the findings regarding the complexity of addressing AEs in therapeutic work for both therapists and patients, similar findings were also reported by Nielsen (2019). Furthermore, interviews with a subgroup of the therapists revealed that the therapists feared a loss of confidence in themselves if they raised AE issues during therapy if it was not part of the patient’s overt or covert issues. They further stated that they did not know how to enable an investigative discourse on the subject and had no relevant professional training. In 2016, Vieten et al. reported an increase in training on religion and spirituality for therapists, which had been documented as lacking 10 years before (Vieten et al. 2016). Yet Nielsen (2019) claimed that despite such efforts, the current scientific paradigm on which psychotherapy is based suppresses therapists’ openness, thus limiting the issues that patients may bring to therapy, such as belief in the afterlife.

1.2. The Present Study

Our aim was to shed light on patients’ experiences of past life memories and how, if at all, these experiences were incorporated during psychotherapy that was not necessarily focused on such experiences. The research questions were the following:

What was the meaning to the patients of experiences of past life memories?

Did the patients share these experiences in therapy, and, if so, how did they decide to do so?

How were the experiences processed by the patients, and from their perspective, what were the implications for their lives of processing the experiences in therapy?

What were the patients’ wishes regarding how these experiences would have been or should be handled in therapy?

2. Materials and Methods

This qualitative research used in-depth interviews and a hermeneutic phenomenological approach. According to Husserl (2001), phenomenology focuses “directly on analysis of the things themselves” (p. xxvii), not denying the existence of the real world but seeking to clarify the sense of the world as it is actually experienced. Husserl saw the experience as the starting point for all knowledge in the world and as a repository in which this knowledge is preserved (Porter and Cohen 2013). Hence, the approach of the present study regarding patients’ experiences of past life memories was that, as experiences, they constituted a significant aspect of the person’s life, regardless of their ontological essence, that is, whether or not the events in the memories actually occurred. Consistent with a phenomenological stance (Wertz 2011), the present analysis focuses on the existential and therapeutic meanings participants attribute to their narratives rather than on verifying historical accuracy.

Hermeneutic phenomenology integrates this descriptive phenomenological approach with the interpretive phenomenology approach that was later developed by Heidegger ([1953] 2010), who focused on the ontological question from which human consciousness grows (Reiners 2012). The hermeneutic phenomenology approach combines an ontological question (what is the nature of reality?) and an epistemological question (how do we know and what can we know?). It suggests that there is always a certain level of interpretation and meaning-making regarding events.

2.1. Participants and Procedure

The participants were 15 adults (13 women and 2 men, ages 26 to 69, with an average age of 41) in Israel with experiences of past life memories who had been in conventional therapy during or after the time the experience occurred. The participants’ experiences had arisen in a variety of circumstances, such as after guided imagery, through bodywork, during holotropic breathing, or through hypnosis. Participants were recruited through advertisements on professional social networks used by therapist colleagues of the first author, using the following wording: “For research at the University of Haifa, I am seeking individuals, past or current therapy clients, who have experienced memories of past lives and were in conventional psychotherapy during or after those experiences. The aim of the study is to help therapists learn how such experiences can be integrated into therapy. The research seeks to understand how these experiences have influenced participants’ lives, whether they shared them during therapy, and how integration, or lack thereof, impacted their therapeutic process. If you feel this describes your experience, if you have had past-life memories (in any form) and were in conventional psychotherapy during or after the experience, or still are, you are welcome to contact me by email.” All participants volunteered without receiving any form of monetary or material compensation. Participant demographic characteristics are summarized in

Table 1. Participant demographic characteristics (N = 15).

Participant Number	Age	Occupation	Gender	Marital Status	Pseudonym
1	57	Integrative Psychotherapist	Female	Married + 2	Karen
2	69	Spiritual Counselor	Female	Married + 4	Rachel
3	44	Software Engineer	Male	Single	Ben
4	31	Social Worker	Female	Single	Naomi
5	51	Social Worker	Female	Married + 2	Leah
6	50	Accountant	Female	Single	Sophie
7	47	Occupational Therapist	Male	Married + 2	Daniel
8	26	Manicurist and Fitness Coach	Female	Married	Natalie
9	35	Social Worker	Female	Single	Sharon
10	32	Pharmacy Salesperson	Female	Single	Dana
11	69	Catering Business Owner	Female	Married + 3	Ann
12	31	Unemployed	Female	Single	Lily
13	41	Marketing	Female	Divorced	Michaela
14	49	Social Worker	Female	Single + 2	Mia
15	53	Kindergarten Teacher	Female	Single	Rose

. All participants were Jewish, 14 secular and 1 ultra-Orthodox. Their education ranged from a bachelor’s degree to a doctorate. They had seen a total of 27 different therapists—6 men and 21 women—from a variety of professional backgrounds, including clinical psychology, clinical social work, psychiatry, integrative psychotherapy, and somatic psychotherapy. All of the participants’ therapy consisted of individual sessions that lasted more than half a year (an average of a year and a half), except for one participant who had only two sessions. Nine participants were receiving outside spiritual guidance while in psychotherapy.

After approval by the University’s Academic Ethics Committee, each participant was provided with an explanation of the nature and objective of the study, signed an informed consent form, and underwent one open in-depth interview (13 through Zoom due to the COVID-19 pandemic and 2 face-to-face in the participant’s home) ranging in length from an hour and a half to two hours. The participants were asked about their life story; their beliefs; their experience of past life memories and the circumstances in which they experienced it; how the experience affected their life; the psychotherapy framework they attended during or after the time of the experience; how the experience was or was not integrated in the therapy; the impact of the integration or lack of it on their feelings later; and whether they had anything to add. The interviews were video recorded and transcribed verbatim. During the interviews, participants’ emotional and physical reactions were observed and noted in a written field journal by the first author to more fully grasp the essence of the participant’s experience (Porter and Cohen 2013). All interviews were conducted by the first author, who also wrote a self-reflection in the field journal after every interview and noted in it her thoughts and interpretations throughout the study. A synopsis file was created for each interview, including details of the participant’s life journey, key issues that emerged during the interview, key impressions written in the field journal, and selected quotes from the interview. A findings draft was sent separately to each participant at the end of the study with a request to respond to ensure that the findings were accurate.

2.2. Authors’ Positionality

The first author is an integrative psychotherapist who has undergone training in a public mental health clinic. Before the interviews, she chose to go through hypnosis, which can encourage the emergence of past life memories. The hypnosis was approved by the university’s ethics committee and recorded. The second author is a seasoned researcher on human development focusing on close relationships, caring, and spiritual development, and has extensively used both qualitative and quantitative research methods.

2.3. Data Analysis

In a hermeneutic phenomenological approach, the analysis begins during data collection (Porter and Cohen 2013) and continues with a cycled reading analysis of the collected materials. The first author’s personal experience of past life memory during the hypnosis opened a window to listen more closely to participants’ experiences, giving legitimacy to all emotions arising during the interview and getting closer to their experience. Yet, it should be acknowledged that such personal experience could cause bias in the data analysis. The first author read the interview transcripts and then the synopsis files in a recursive process, constituting the hermeneutic circle (Porter and Cohen 2013), in which meaning is extracted to form themes. The files were read repeatedly, and when needed, the raw interview transcript was consulted with the second author, who read it parallel to the first author’s observations written during the interview. Interview questions were piloted with one colleague prior to data collection, allowing for refinement of wording and flow. Discussions on the transcripts were held with the second author, and differences were reconciled after returning to the original interview material. As noted by Creswell (2007), the essence of the experience of the studied phenomenon may eventually appear through the repetitive process, which here included reading transcripts, extracting new themes from key sentences, creating a synopsis for each participant, collecting crucial key sentences regarding the main research questions and comparing them, and combining all of them into preliminary and then recurring themes. Data analysis was conducted manually without the use of qualitative software. Following each interview, transcripts were prepared, and preliminary reflections were documented. The analytical process was recursive in nature: each new transcript was read in relation to prior material, and thematic development evolved through iterative comparison. In the beginning, many minor themes were identified, and as the analysis proceeded and more interviews were analysed, groups of minor themes coalesced into a broader theme. This process continued until four clear themes emerged. A few minor themes were not included in the findings because they did not directly refer to the issues addressed in this study (e.g., some participants expressed difficulty and avoidance of sharing their experiences with others). There were also very few divergent themes which we decided not to include in the findings (e.g., one participant discussed how the experience of past-life memories led him/her to choose to become a past-life memories therapist). The decision to stop recruitment was informed by the principle of thematic saturation, which was reached once no novel themes emerged from new interviews.

2.4. Transparency and Openness

This study was not preregistered. The collected data were permitted to be cited in this study. Nevertheless, sharing the full interviews in an open database was impossible since they are personal data, and the interviewees did not provide such approval.

3. Results

The interviews were principally characterized by the participants’ eagerness to describe the experience and how it was like watching themselves as a character from a past life playing a role in a specific scenario. Participants were quite articulate when discussing the meaning of the experience in their lives. It seemed that they had just been waiting to be given the opportunity to talk about it. Almost half of them had never shared their experience before, not even with their closest social circle or in therapy. Four of them wrote to the first author about their feelings of liberation after the interview.

Several themes emerged regarding each research question. For the first question, we found four themes: the significance of the experience, the certainty of inner knowing, the intensity of the experience, and the spontaneous emergence of insights. For the second question, we found two themes: the participants’ fears of being diagnosed as “crazy”, and their desire to know their therapist’s relevant beliefs. For the third question, we found five themes concerning the beneficial and non-beneficial processing of the experience during therapy. For the fourth question, we found three themes: the desire for a mutual and active processing during the therapy through acquaintance with the experience; the desire for curiosity, exploration, and insights on the part of the therapist; and participants’ search for psychotherapy that incorporates spirituality, allowing them to process and integrate the powerful experience in their daily life. The excerpts of interviews presented here were translated from Hebrew into English, and pseudonyms are used to protect the participants’ identities.

3.1. First Research Question: The Meaning of the Experience

All participants ascribed great significance to their experience of past life memories.

3.1.1. The Experience Was Perceived as Significant

All participants used adjectives such as “very meaningful”, “important”, “significant”, and “influential” when describing their experience. It seemed to be an important emotional turning point in their lives and a milestone in their worldviews: “an experience of high value in my life” and “it was beyond all expectations I ever had”.

3.1.2. The Certainty of Inner Knowing

Participants referred to a strong sense of truth and a certain inner knowledge that what they had experienced had indeed taken place, without trying to convince anyone else. Ben, a 44-year-old software engineer, described the state of consciousness during the experience as different but real: “It’s like, not the ordinary consciousness. It feels different, like being immersed. I’m experiencing it directly, and it is real, really like a dream, only I’m not sleeping”.

Others described the sense of certainty as an undoubtable part of their consciousness, having no question regarding its plausibility. Michaela, a 41-year-old woman, self-employed in marketing, described her powerful experience of knowing as, “Suddenly, I actually saw myself and knew! It comes with the feeling of knowing”. Ann, a 69-year-old woman working in the food industry, described it as

“the inner knowledge that it’s me in this story and not that I’m being told that it’s me. Seeing it, when you close your eyes and can see yourself in some life story and realize it’s you, I think it’s just, I think it’s just shuffle the deck”.

3.1.3. The Experience Was Powerful

Fourteen participants described the experience as powerful and alive. Many used dramatic and decisive words when describing its intensity: “The experience was so powerful because it was really alive. I was shocked by it. It was the first time” (Ann). Daniel, a 47-year-old man in a paramedical field, described his powerful feelings:

“Look, what I experienced was the experience of infinity … It was a much much greater experience than me. There was something much greater than my ability to contain it. And that’s why my body began to tremble. It was an unequivocal experience, at least one of the two most powerful I have had in my life. It was a revelation”.

The details of the experience remained clear in interviewees’ minds years after the event. Mia, a 49-year-old woman in a therapeutic field, stated, “I remember many parts of it accurately like I never remember any other day in my life”.

3.1.4. The Spontaneous Emergence of Insights

In all the interviews, the participants reported that the experiences led to insights that had considerable implications for their lives. Karen, a 57-year-old female dance teacher and therapist, shared the insights that emerged from an experience that arose during meditation: “In a sense, that incarnation session became a way of life for me, I live its message. It was life-changing”. Naomi, a 31-year-old woman working in a rehabilitation hostel, said, “I feel like I understand things about myself that I did not understand before”, and that the experience explained significant parts of major conflicts in her life: “Why I get into relationships, why I have felt self-worthless from a young age, even though I have everything!”

Another key insight reported was the feeling that they were not alone in the world, which brought them peace and gave them confidence. Some talked about changing attitudes about the end of life and death:

“There is an attentive ear and an open eye. I’m not alone, no matter what”.

(Daniel)

“I understand that things do not end. That’s why I also have great confidence, that my parents wherever they are, are still here in one way or another. This brings me enormous calm”.

(Ann)

According to the participants, the insights they gained were linked to conflicts in their lives that could not be resolved before the experience. This led to what some of them called “life cycle closure”, “healing”, and “recovery”. Rachel, a 69-year-old ultra-Orthodox female therapist, stated:

“I can only tell you that beyond the closure, my whole attitude towards my children and their spouses is much more peaceful, much more accepting; so yes, I needed to know these reincarnations and that helped me a lot”.

Michaela referred to the moment the insight arose as shocking, with physiological effects such as being healed of an allergy that began in childhood:

“As if suddenly a penny drops. It’s cross-dimensional, I cannot even explain it in words, as if all of a sudden everything was spinning, and I understood. I just understood everything and the cat allergy has passed, yes?! Um…so it’s like it really explained it [her allergy] to me”.

Leah, a 51-year-old female social worker, recounted her depression over the years and the meaning of the experience for her:

“In one word: recovery. Healing. I have no doubt that these experiences actually created this life cycle closure. I have no doubt that when it surfaced [the story of the memory], when it could be seen, processed, then it was possible to heal this place and actually release the feelings that accompanied these experiences”.

3.2. Second Research Question: The Decision to Share or Not to Share the Memory

Only seven of the participants shared their experience during therapy and in only 11 of the 27 therapeutic frameworks. The reasons for not sharing appeared to be related to the fear of revealing experiences that are not considered conventional human experiences in Western society.

Karen stated, “Okay, so you need not continue to ask because it was never shared in therapy. And not only was it not shared, but I have never told it to anyone”. When she was asked why she decided not to share it, she explained:

“When I left this therapy there was a voice inside me that said, in these exact words: ‘The world is not ready to hear about it yet.’ It was that sentence I spoke out: “The world is not ready for it yet”; and it was not even on the verge of being shared in other therapies”.

3.2.1. Fear of Being Diagnosed as “Crazy”

Participants reported being afraid to share their experience in therapy because they assumed their therapist would think they were “crazy” and want to medicate them. Natalie, 26, working in cosmetics, explained:

“My psychotherapist would have liked to give me pills… I think she would think I was going crazy. It’s conventional psychotherapy, and I didn’t open this world with her at all. It doesn’t feel like she would understand. It feels like she would say: ‘you should take some pills’”.

Lily, a 31-year-old female student, shared: “There was a psychiatrist. I didn’t share it with her…she just would have wanted to push pills on me. What is there to share?”

Even those who chose to share their experience expressed concern about the possibility that their therapist would think they were crazy. Naomi, who was in therapy with a veteran clinical psychologist, gave an example:

“It was significant for me. Because sharing with someone, I do not know, who is a doctor who is most scientifically oriented, something that is, supposedly, the most unscientific, so…it made me feel good, she showed me she doesn’t think I’m crazy, the opposite, she encouraged me and empowered me”.

3.2.2. The Importance of Knowing the Therapist’s Spiritual Beliefs

Twelve participants referred to the importance of a therapist’s spiritual beliefs as a basis for their decision whether or not to share the experiences during therapy. Naomi described her repeated inquiries about her therapist’s beliefs: “I was very reluctant to share it, I remember constantly asking her: Do you believe in it? Do you believe in it?” Natalie expressed her wish: “If I had known somehow that the same therapist was open to the world of spirituality then I would, right at the first encounter, open it up and all the experiences I had”.

Knowing that their therapist had spiritual beliefs facilitated the participants’ decision to share their experiences. Rachel described her feeling after having decided to share her experience with her therapist, who she said was a spiritual person and believed in the existence of previous incarnations: “I was greatly relieved. Yes. It suited my spirit. I know it exists, there is no need to deny it”.

The decision to share the experience was made after patients felt safe enough to be able to reveal those parts of their lives. Sharon, a 35-year-old female clinical social worker, described the moment she realized her therapist had an affinity to spiritual issues: “I think that during therapy I realized that she comes from a non-religious spiritual place, and it was a kind of a validation for me. I hadn’t invented anything … I think that there is something very reassuring about it and very connecting”.

3.3. Third Research Question: The Processing of the Experience During Therapy and Its Implications

Processing the experience during therapy was often a complex mission. Participants spoke about the difficulties and also the contribution the sharing made to their lives or the lack of it. Some who had shared their experience during therapy were diagnosed by their therapist in a way that hurt them or invalidated their experience. Some encountered worldview discrepancies making it difficult for them to confide, and there were some for whom reactions were beneficial and they felt acceptance and validity albeit without sufficient processing of the experience. There were also participants who indeed felt success in processing and fully working through their experience.

3.3.1. Nonbeneficial Processing: Nonvalidative Interpretation or Diagnosis

According to participants, the therapist’s response to the patient’s sharing their experience determined the therapy’s course, its effectiveness, the nature of the therapeutic relationship, the ability to share in subsequent treatments, and the felt safety of the therapeutic space. Nine participants expressed concern about their experience being labeled in a negative way, and some even experienced such labeling while sharing it in therapy.

Mia, 49, reported that two different therapists, a psychiatrist and a clinical social worker, to whom she had turned after she had the experience, told her during the session, each in their own way, that they thought it was a psychotic episode: “He [the psychiatrist] told me. Oh… It was probably a psychotic episode”. After that, she refrained from continuing to process the experience:

“I knew I would not go back there again. If you put it in a box as a psychotic episode, it is an experience that is terribly hard to touch now. First of all, it’s bad. Who wants a psychotic episode?”

The labeling and lack of processing influenced Mia’s ability to return to normal functioning:

“For a year I hardly worked. I hardly left the house. I needed time for myself. I didn’t know who to turn to. I didn’t want them to minimize my experience as a psychotic episode. I had no way of talking about all of the strange things that had happened to me with a professional, who would force me to define what is normal … First of all the labeling. It’s something that must be removed from the table, at least for a while”.

3.3.2. Nonbeneficial Processing: Worldview Differences During Experience Processing

Once they shared their experience, some participants encountered a gap between their worldview and that of their therapist that they felt could not be bridged—that the therapist did not take into account all their human dimensions integral to their world, involving body, mind, and spirit:

“The layer of psychological therapy is on a much lower level. It’s as if there is the layer of the body and of the mind and the soul, and the soul is the deepest. And the layer of the mind is in the middle. So, there was a limit to what could be done”.

(Naomi)

Naomi did feel that she went through a significant process in therapy, but she compared it to previous negative spiritual processes she had been through before:

“It wasn’t that deep root treatment, like I had with Naama (pseudonym of the spiritual guide) … working with all incarnations is just looking at a broader aspect of who I am, every incarnation is a part of me. And to go through a deep root canal treatment you have to look at all these parts”.

Ann said that her therapist told her the experience serves as an escape from staying with her feelings. This was the catalyst for her to avoid further discussion of the experiences: “He kept saying that I was constantly fleeing to this place, the spiritual, of the incarnations. It is really hard to understand. For me, it wasn’t an escape and it isn’t an escape”.

3.3.3. Beneficial Processing: Validation, Lack of Judgmental Attitude, and Listening

Participants who shared their experience said that validation of the experience was of great significance, anchoring the experience in their life and encouraging them to process it as part of treatment. Sharon said: “As if there is some validating experience. I’m not inventing anything. If someone else sees it, then it has some validity”. They also emphasized the importance of the therapist not judging the experience:

“Honestly, at first, I hesitated. Then I told her [the psychologist]. I remember that feeling that she didn’t reject it. I was happy with it, she could have rejected it and I might not have continued with her afterwards. That was something that could have happened. I told the psychologist all of the details … and she took it very nicely. She didn’t approach it from a scientific place. She was respectful.”

(Sophie, 50, female accountant)

Daniel described how his psychotherapist, a dynamic-oriented psychologist, responded: “First of all is empathy … she is a champion listener. What I liked about her, for example, was that she remembered every detail I had ever told her. I always said to her, ‘You have healing listening’.”

3.3.4. Beneficial Processing: The Connection to “Higher Self” or “Consciousness”

Three participants spoke of the importance of connecting to and developing the “higher self”, “high entity”, or “high consciousness” as beneficial processing of the experience, resolving mental distress and creating the possibility of deep insights. Dana, a 32-year-old woman working in the pharma field, said: “I developed the ability to be connected to a high entity within me”. Ben shared:

“He [the psychologist] introduced me to this idea that there is such a thing as the “higher self” which is our wise part, something between the mind and the soul. When I developed this ability I practiced it, it helped me arrange my thoughts in my head and really calmed me down. It helped me a lot. Once I had developed this ability to communicate with the “higher self” I felt that I always have an inner anchor. I can always get strength from it and consult with it, and it really worked. It helped me a lot to gradually reduce existential anxieties”.

3.3.5. Beneficial Processing: Being Part of a Greater Journey than Life Itself

A central insight that emerged from processing the experience was being part of a larger journey than that in their current lives. Participants recounted a sense of calmness when they realized that life is made up of additional experiences, from previous life incarnations, and that the soul is part of the larger journey. (Interestingly, the 13 participants who said their worldview was based on the assumption that conflicts that occurred in their current life were most often related to conflicts from their previous lives and, thus, it was important for them to understand the source of those conflicts and process them, included 8 participants who had decided not to share their experience during therapy.) Sharon and Daniel stated:

“Not everything has certainty and not everything has answers and there is a journey that is…that I am at peace with today. I have something to believe in, I see the path becoming clearer…it is my journey.”

(Sharon)

“I think we tried to understand. This thing strengthened me, in understanding where I came from in this world. I went through many incarnations…and this understanding certainly strengthens me that the greater story is much much bigger than that, it helps a lot in dealing with everyday life… with everything.”

(Daniel)

3.4. Fourth Research Question: Participants’ Wishes Regarding Therapy

Participants revealed dissatisfaction with the therapeutic processing of the experiences. Only three participants who shared their experience perceived that it was processed in a beneficial way. From the interviews, three ways participants wished to process their experiences emerged.

3.4.1. Mutual and Active Processing Through Acquaintance with the Experience

Participants emphasized that apart from therapists’ validating their experience, there was a need for mutual active investigation of the experience. Some indicated it was important to them that their therapist be familiar with the experience or that the therapist had themself experienced a past life memory. Sharon stated she would like her therapist to be “both more knowledgeable and also inquiring. There is only inner knowledge about it”. Sharon further explained:

“I have no idea if my therapist has experienced, felt it, connected to it. I lack that. I mean the ability to say: I know this world; I feel this world. That’s probably what I missed most. Because there really aren’t many people I can talk to about it, really; and also as having someone with you. Not within the experience but by your side in your experience”.

3.4.2. Curiosity, Exploration, and Insights

Participants discussed the desire to process the experience in therapy as an open discourse and search for insights emerging from it. Sophie experienced a past life memory during a past-life regression and said that processing the experience relied on her therapist’s curiosity and interest in helping her explore more insights into her life after she shared the experience with her:

“First of all, she would say: ‘what did you see in the regression?’ So I would actually tell her the story, and I would also tell her what the resulting insights were. Then from those insights she would find more insights. I mean, you know what, the story itself is not important. What matters is the insights”.

Participants explained that the therapist’s central work was to provide a space of curiosity and openness, as well as deepening the insights that emerged from the experiences they shared.

3.4.3. Psychotherapy That Incorporates Spirituality

All participants talked about their search for mental health care that incorporated spirituality and a desire for psychotherapy that included processing experiences of past life memories. Spiritual experiences touched the essence of their life and not being able to talk about them in conventional psychotherapy led them to look elsewhere, which was detrimental to them: “It’s something that is a bit lacking because it is an integral part. Therapy should be both on the ground and detached from the ground” (Natalie). Naomi expressed her decision to pursue long-term psychological therapy with a spiritual therapist: “It touches the deepest and most personal layer of my soul”.

The nine participants who were simultaneously in psychotherapy and under spiritual guidance wanted a single place where they could bring a variety of their experiences and concerns. Daniel spoke of the dichotomy he faced in finding a place to process his personal development. He participated in spiritual development groups but felt there was no room for his emotional issues, and when he went to his first psychological treatment, he felt that there was no room for his spiritual issues:

“Somewhere I am looking for the treatment that gives room for these two things. I will give you an example, if you go to a spiritual study group, where there is a touch of spirituality, they tell you: ‘Listen, it’s not appropriate. We are not in a therapy group. We are a learning group.’ On the other hand, you go to a therapy group and bring up these [spiritual] issues; they didn’t know what to do with them. This combination means that there will be a place where I can bring these two worlds to the table. And they are supposedly contradictory at the moment. I mean, this combination is inaccessible, at least right now, for a lot of people”.

They wanted psychotherapy in which therapists were connected to spirituality. “I would like to go to a therapist who not only believes, but is also connected to this kind of experience. Because, otherwise it is terribly difficult to understand it, and you know …, also to believe it”. (Mia)

4. Discussion

Participants’ descriptions of the meaning of their experiences of past life memories as being clear and truthful are similar to “ultimacy”, the term coined by Pargament (2007, p. 39) to refer to spiritual experiences as involving a sense of being ultimately true. Such experiences might also be understood as sacred moments or spiritually transformative experiences (Pargament et al. 2014; Taylor and Egeto-Szabo 2017), offering openings for spiritual awakening that imbue the patient’s life with meaning and depth; thus, for spiritual patients, serving as divine gifts for meaningful therapeutic work. A qualitative meta-analysis that examined the findings of 82 qualitative studies on a patient’s experience in psychotherapy (Levitt et al. 2016) showed that understanding and acceptance of all of the patient’s diverse experiences increased therapy’s effectiveness, highlighting the importance of providing the opportunity to bring as wide a range of patients’ experiences as possible to the therapeutic space.

However, although all our participants expressed the desire to be able to discuss their experience of past life memories in therapy, only about half reported doing so, and in less than half of the therapeutic frameworks in which they had been involved. Their fears of being labeled “crazy” and medicated or that their therapist would disapprove accord with the findings of a study (Hastings 1983) of patients with psychic experiences who hesitated to share them in therapy, many fearing they would be diagnosed as “crazy”, as well as similar concerns by the patients in Roxburgh and Evenden’s (2016b) study regarding AEs. In Roxburgh and Evenden (2016a), therapists addressed this concern and said that AEs should be viewed as part of the human experience and not necessarily be immediately labeled as symptoms of a mental disorder, noting that diagnosing an abnormality depends on the patient’s level of distress in light of the experience, not on the experience itself or the possibility of experiencing it.

Processing the experience of past life memories during therapy was reported in the present study as often complex and not always beneficial. Participants clearly indicated that therapists’ dismissive or pathological labeling of their past-life experiences caused emotional distress, constituting iatrogenic harm by unintentionally invalidating spiritually meaningful experiences (Linden 2013; Roxburgh and Evenden 2016b). In this context, iatrogenic harm refers specifically to psychological damage caused by therapeutic intervention or attitudes, rather than by the patient’s original condition. Whether the content of past life memories is peaceful or distressing, therapeutic work focuses on the narrative’s emotional impact and integrative potential rather than its factual verification. When sharing a past life memory evokes intense distress, such as flooding, tears, or somatic pain, the therapist provides a supportive container in which the patient can fully engage with and articulate these emotional responses, employing the same attuned, compassionate processes used for any profound material that arises in therapy. Clinicians may distinguish anomalous spiritual experiences from trauma-related flashbacks and dissociative pathology by focusing on: (a) phenomenological hallmarks of mystical experiences—such as ineffability, noetic quality, transiency, and passivity—identified using the Hood Mysticism Scale (Hood 2001); (b) absence of dissociative disorder indicators as measured by the Dissociative Disorders Interview Schedule (DDIS), including low scores on identity alteration, amnesia, depersonalization, and somatoform dissociation subscales (Vencio et al. 2018); and (c) preserved functional integration, where individuals maintain continuity of self and adaptive daily functioning rather than persistent dissociative disruption.

One aspect of beneficial processing that participants reported, a feeling of a connection to a “higher self”, is particularly noteworthy. It is part of transpersonal models in psychotherapy (Ardelt and Grunwald 2018) and concerns the development of the self through self-transcendence outside of “regular” self-actualization. It relates to philosophical and spiritual ideas, such as Carl Jung’s “collective unconscious” (Jung 2014) or the highest level of spiritual development of the self, as Abraham Maslow described it in his later publications (Maslow 1971; Kaklauskaskas et al. 2016). The findings suggest that therapists’ familiarity with the concept of the “higher self” or other related concepts (e.g., “high entity” or “high consciousness”) allowed patient and therapist collaboration in investigating together the patient’s meaning of life. Also important for those who successfully shared their experiences of past life memories was the possibility to freely interpret and bring up new insights that emerged from them in the context of their current lives. As clarified in the Method, our phenomenological approach privileges the lived meaning of each narrative; therefore, the narratives of past-life memories are meaningful to the psychotherapeutic process regardless of whether the past-life accounts are historically verifiable or imaginatively constructed.

The present study also reveals patients’ desire that the possibility of talking about their experiences be initiated by the therapist as a matter of curiosity, opening up the possibility of discussing them without stigma. Even those of our participants who did not share their experience of past life memories in therapy did want to discuss the spiritual aspects of their lives. They all expressed their wish to find psychotherapy that incorporates spirituality. They were dissatisfied with the divergence of psychotherapy and spiritual issues and having to discuss spiritual issues in places other than therapy. They wanted mutual and active processing through their therapist’s personal acquaintance with the type of experience the patients had.

This raises the questions: What should the therapist bring to the room openly and explicitly, when, and how? To what extent should therapists be clear about their spiritual and/or religious beliefs and attitudes, and how can they be frank and authentic in dealing with delicate and controversial spiritual issues? Can they just “not know” and be neutral? The therapists in the Roxburgh and Evenden (2016a) study expressed their hesitation about whether to inquire about AEs in intake or wait for the patient to bring them up. Nielsen’s (2019) study found that therapists feared a loss of trust if they raised the subject of an afterlife.

Richards (2012) brings up several ways of assessing religious and spiritual issues during therapy and the need to create a “safe and spiritually open therapeutic relationship” (p. 247). He specifically suggests that worldview differences be openly manifested and respectfully discussed. Brown (2007) argues that the therapist’s grip on an absolutely “not-knowing” position may create disconnection in the patient’s experience in its interpersonal, social, and cultural context. While she agrees with abandoning the idea of the “all-knowing” therapist and minimizing power differences in the therapeutic working alliance (Boldin 1979), she claims that a “not-knowing stance is not effective for deconstructing negative identity conclusions or rewriting alternative identities” (Brown 2007, p. 4).

Danzer’s (2018) study suggests that the therapist cannot expect to remain completely anonymous or neutral about their beliefs, but there is a fine line between a revealing too little and revealing too much and there are concerns about transference, countertransference, and other ethical issues. There are also controversies about whether a therapist must be personally familiar with the experience the patient wants to discuss (e.g., can a therapist who is not a parent help a woman with motherhood issues; can a therapist who has not experienced a loss help a patient who has?). However, our findings show that patients desired only openness to the subject of past life memories and respectful curiosity, not that therapists needed to have experienced them or even believe in their existence. Our participants wanted to know what their therapist’s spiritual beliefs were and whether the therapist was open to hearing about the patient’s experience. Participants did not seek belief alignment; rather, they valued therapist transparency paired with respectful openness. Therapist self-disclosure—such as sharing personal spiritual openness—supports a strong therapeutic alliance by validating the patient’s experience without imposing beliefs. Participants further expressed that openly discussing their own spiritual stance and experiences in a spiritually friendly environment fostered trust and eased discussion of sensitive material. This aligns with Pargament’s recommendation to include spirituality inquiries in the clinical intake (Pargament 2013), promoting early acknowledgment and a supportive therapeutic environment.

A qualitative meta-analysis of studies on therapists’ self-disclosure and discourse on the therapeutic relationship (Hill et al. 2018) shows that following self-disclosure and discourse on the therapeutic relationship, the therapeutic relationship improved, along with the functioning and well-being of the patient, and deep insights were able to emerge as part of the therapy. In the present study, according to the patients’ perspective, worldview discrepancies that were not properly mediated made it difficult to share and process their experience. Experiences of the type studied here change a person’s ontological and epistemological perceptions; thus, they constitute a very important layer in their worldview.

4.1. Spiritual-Psychoeducation

Facilitating the search for spiritual meaning within psychotherapy presents a notable challenge, particularly when therapists do not share, or feel discomfort with, the metaphysical frameworks their patients bring. While the literature consistently emphasizes the importance of empathy, validation, and respectful curiosity (Pargament 2013; Captari et al. 2018; Pargament et al. 2022), the findings of the current study suggest that these therapeutic attitudes alone may be insufficient when patients confront deeply transformative spiritual experiences. Participants expressed a desire to engage in a more collaborative, integrative process—one that not only honors their narratives but also helps interpret them through spiritual-psychological lenses. Many participants described a longing to connect with their “higher self” and to explore insights emerging from these states of consciousness in a therapeutic dialogue that extends beyond symbolic interpretation.

To meet these needs, we propose a framework termed Spiritual-Psychoeducation, a structured component within spiritually integrated psychotherapy that entails offering patients psychological knowledge related to spiritual experiences in an empathic, dialogic, and collaborative approach. Spiritual-Psychoeducation is introduced here as a collaborative, evidence-informed practice where therapist and patient co-construct knowledge about spiritually transformative experiences. Although the term psychoeducation has traditionally implied a didactic top-down stance, the present study frames Spiritual-Psychoeducation as a combination of two pillars. The first is informing the client on information from surveys, research findings, and conceptual constructs in the academic field of spirituality in psychotherapy. The second is a collaborative, dialogic practice in which therapist and patient co-construct knowledge about spiritual experience.

4.1.1. Informing Pillar of Spiritual-Psychoeducation

Although psychoeducation is a core feature of evidence-based therapies, its formal application within spiritual-psychotherapy is still emergent. Integrating structured spiritual knowledge supports meaning-making processes and enhances patients’ capacity to reflect on their own belief systems, especially when navigating anomalous experiences such as past life memories. This approach aligns with the broader movement toward spiritually competent care (Vieten et al. 2016; Aten and Leach 2009), particularly relevant in post-secular societies where spiritual identity is increasingly individualized and hybrid.

The Informing Pillar may include discussing empirical findings about the phenomenology and prevalence of spiritual experiences (Sandage et al. 2020), For example, sharing finding of an extensive survey that 49 percent of U.S. adults report having had “a religious or mystical experience” that left them feeling in touch with something divine (Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life 2009). Sharing this knowledge normalizes patients’ experiences and underscores that they are not alone.

When relevant, therapists may also discuss with the client specific terms related to spiritual processes that have been studied and are relevant in clinical practice in spiritually integrated psychotherapies. These include, for example, the term spiritual struggles and their therapeutic relevance (Exline and Rose 2013), and culturally embedded frameworks such as reincarnation, ego-transcendence, and consciousness development (Hartelius et al. 2013). Additionally, the concept of spiritual bypass (Cashwell and Pate 1995; Welwood 2011), where spirituality is used to avoid emotional processing, can be addressed as a potential obstacle to integration (Cashwell et al. 2007), when it is relevant to the patient. Therapists can also use and explain other important terms such as spiritual bias (Sulmasy 2002), spiritual emergency (Grof and Grof 1989), and Pargament’s (2013) notion of ultimacy. Information needs to always be offered dialogically, honoring the patient’s lived meaning while normalizing the prevalence and diversity of spiritually transformative experiences.

An additional aspect involves cultivating acceptance and self-compassion, which is essential in the informing-educational pillar of Spiritual-Psychoeducation. Drawing on acceptance-based and compassion-focused therapies (Neff and Germer 2013), patients are invited to meet their experiences, whether awe-inspiring or disorienting, with gentle curiosity. Psychoeducative compassionate dialogue, therefore, (a) normalizes emotional ambivalence, (b) teaches brief self-compassion practices, and (c) frames acceptance as a prerequisite for integration. Integration further entails engaging the psyche’s “shadow” elements—grief, fear, doubt, and anger—rather than bypassing them. The therapist can explicitly name spiritual bypass as a clinical risk and gently guide the patient toward these parts (Welwood 2011), using compassion-based work and mindful emotion tracking so that difficult material is included in the integration process. Thus, we suggest that therapists bear responsibility for maintaining an evidence-based knowledge base to cultivate expertise in this domain by engaging with the expanding research on spiritually integrated psychotherapy.

4.1.2. Collaborating Pillar of Spiritual-Psychoeducation

A core dimension of Spiritual-Psychoeducation, which we named the Collaborating Pillar of Spiritual-Psychoeducation, involves cultivating discernment in interpreting and integrating spiritual insights. Therapists may invite patients to attune to what they perceive as communications from their higher self and explore how these messages resonate with or challenge their internalized beliefs. This collaborative approach allows a non-judgmental quest for therapeutic integration. Drawing from transpersonal psychology and mindfulness-informed approaches, the therapist can assist the patient in differentiating between constructive spiritual insights—those that foster healing, coherence, and growth—and those that are fear-based or perpetuate guilt, shame, or avoidance (Sutich 1976; Daniels 2021). Such reflection can be guided by questions of psychological benefit, ethical alignment, and real-life applicability.

This process may include analyzing beliefs that emerged during spiritual experiences in terms of their impact on self-concept and interpersonal behavior. For instance, a patient might express the belief that they are destined to suffer due to a karmic debt from a previous life. Rather than challenge the metaphysical content, the therapist can invite reflection on how such beliefs influence the patient’s agency, sense of worth, and capacity for change in the present. The goal is not to validate or invalidate the belief, but to explore its psychological and functional significance within the therapeutic frame.

Another essential element of Spiritual-Psychoeducation is grounding—helping patients translate abstract or transcendent insights into concrete understandings relevant to daily life. This may involve co-reflection on how metaphysical revelations (e.g., timeless awareness, soul lineage, or interdimensional experiences) relate to career decisions, relational patterns, grief processes, or existential dilemmas. Clinicians working in integrative and depth-oriented traditions have highlighted the importance of anchoring transcendent awareness in practice (Ferrer 2002; Grof and Grof 2010; Hoffman et al. 2022).

While the therapist may bring conceptual frameworks that support spiritual understanding, Spiritual-Psychoeducation can be approached not as a top-down transmission of knowledge, but as a collaborative unfolding of language and context that honors the individual’s lived experience. Within the framework of mutual accompaniment (Watkins 2020), this process becomes a shared exploration in which therapist and individual work together to name, reflect upon, and integrate spiritual phenomena. Rather than positioning the therapist as the sole knower, Spiritual-Psychoeducation is reimagined as a dialogical practice that offers supportive perspectives without overriding the authority of personal experience. For example, when a patient reports a vivid vision of having been a healer in a past life, the therapist can build upon this experience. Instead of interpreting this as literal or illusory, the therapist may help the patient explore how this archetype resonates with current vocational aspirations, relational dynamics, or internal values. Through such dialogical inquiry, the spiritual material becomes a source for existential clarification rather than categorical diagnosis. This practice reflects the principle of “phenomenological hospitality” (Dein et al. 2021), where therapists offer containment and exploration without imposing interpretive closure.

4.1.3. Conclusion of the Discussion on Spiritual-Psychoeducation

Despite increasing acknowledgment of spiritually transformative experiences in the literature (García-Romeu et al. 2022; Koenig 2018), therapists may still experience difficulty incorporating such content due to a lack of training or epistemic discomfort. As Birnbaum et al. (2008) and Captari et al. (2018) suggest, meaningful integration of spirituality into psychotherapy depends not only on theoretical knowledge but also on the therapist’s reflexivity and capacity for inner spiritual inquiry. Spiritual-Psychoeducation may thus serve as a clinical bridge between therapeutic neutrality and spiritual resonance, enabling therapists to respond to exceptional experiences with both psychological skill and existential depth.

We hope that, in due time, combining these two pillars together, spiritual psychoeducation might be conceived as a professional specialization requiring targeted training and supervision.

4.2. Limitations and Future Research

Women were overrepresented among the participants in this study; we recommend that future research include more male participants. Additionally, participants whose experiences of past life memories were not as significant or who did not have a strong opinion regarding them or were hesitant to share them may not have volunteered for this study; voices such as theirs should be sought out. Further, the research was solely conducted in Israel, reflecting a small and specific sample; a larger sample across a variety of cultures in which there may be different attitudes toward such experiences is needed. This study focused only on the perspective of the patients; studies from the perspective of therapists could be conducted to better understand what might be the best practices of integrating anomalous experiences, such as memories of past lives, in psychotherapy. Finally, we recommend studying potential contraindications for the Spiritual-Psychoeducation we propose.