My Soul Walked This Land Before

Egypt Codes: Part Two

This post continues the Egypt Codes - reflections and transmissions from a pilgrimage that profoundly shifted my understanding of consciousness, history, and my own soul. What I expected to be a quiet first day in Cairo turned out to be something much deeper. If you’re new here, start with Part One.

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I call it Day Zero.

Technically, it was our first full day in Egypt, but nothing for our tour was scheduled. No temples. No sacred sites. Just a group meeting later that day and dinner together. HA! “Just” a meeting and dinner. As if there hadn’t already been 785947373839 initiations before we even landed in Cairo. Like the day where we “just” meet our group and go to dinner was ever going to be just that. Funny…

We didn’t get to sleep until around 4:30 in the morning after traveling, so we slept straight through breakfast. Eventually, we forced ourselves to wake up mid-morning, hoping to adjust to the time difference more easily. But honestly, it wasn’t hard to get up.

I was in Egypt.

I stepped out onto the patio of our hotel room. The sun was rising over Cairo, casting a warm light across the city. Sand-colored buildings stretched across the horizon, blending almost seamlessly into the desert beyond. Nothing towering or competing with the land, just this quiet harmony between human life and the earth.

I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. We’re really in Egypt. Whoa.

Leandra and I wandered downstairs to find food and began exploring the hotel. A massive grand piano in the lobby was playing on its own. Nearby, artisans were weaving tapestries by hand. Beauty seemed to appear everywhere we looked.

At lunch, as we talked about what was ahead and what we were already sensing, something landed in me with startling clarity. “I know I’ve been here before.”

And I don’t mean that poetically or metaphorically.

For years I’ve had flashes of past lives - glimpses, memories, familiar sensations. I’ve known that my soul has carried certain roles and gifts through multiple lifetimes like healer, teacher, and medicine woman. Some of those expressions were celebrated. Others were persecuted. But those memories have always felt like fragments.

This was different.

We hadn’t gone anywhere yet. I wasn’t standing inside a temple or touching ancient stone. I was just sitting at lunch. And suddenly I knew, with absolute certainty, that I was sitting on land my soul had walked before.

Not symbolically. Physically.

The same earth. The same ground. The same land beneath my feet.

It was the first time in my life I had ever experienced that level of recognition in a place. It felt as though this version of me, Jenna, had stepped into the same physical space where other expressions of my soul had lived thousands of years ago.

The realization was surreal. But it also felt strangely full circle. Like all the lifetimes that came before had quietly lined up behind me and said, yes… this is part of your story, too.

What moved me even more was the realization that I was getting to experience this (Egypt, the land, what was about to unfold) as Jenna. This version of my soul. This expression.

It filled me with tremendous gratitude and excitement to be who I am in this lifetime. To get to walk this land again, but through these eyes, in this body, with this level of awareness. What. A. Gift.

After lunch, I felt a strong pull to go outside and put my feet on the earth. My body needed to land and sync with the time zone. It was craving contact with the land itself. Near the pool I found a small patch of grass, kicked off my shoes, and stepped onto it barefoot.

That was the moment I truly began to feel Egypt. Not the country, but the land.

Kemet (the ancient name for Egypt).

Something old and quiet moved through my body as I stood there looking at the flowers and feeling the ground beneath my feet. I noticed a deep settling inside me. Like my body said: We’ve arrived.

Later that afternoon we returned to the room to rest before our group meeting. Leandra stepped out onto the patio…and she immediately came running back inside.

“Jenna,” she said, “did you know we can see the pyramids from our balcony?”

I thought she was joking.

I ran outside. And there they were. Far in the distance, sitting along the horizon. The Great Pyramids. Earlier that morning we hadn’t seen them at all. The air had been thick with dust or smog, and even in a video I had taken they were completely invisible. But now the air had cleared. I stood there staring, tears welling in my eyes, my heart expanding so wide.

Holy moly! I am standing in Cairo, on my hotel room balcony… and I can see the Great Pyramids.

As the trip unfolded we noticed something fascinating. Every morning, the pyramids were veiled again, hidden by the haze of the city. It began to feel intentional, as if they placed an energetic curtain around themselves each night. As if there is work happening there that isn’t meant for everyone’s eyes - not all the time.

Not everything sacred reveals itself immediately. I’ve learned over the years thatyou have to earn the right to be a part of that level of spirituality.That first glimpse felt like a quiet permission slip…an invitation into their world.

Later that afternoon, we met the rest of our group for the first time. There were around sixty people gathered in the room together, many of whom felt strangely familiar the moment we met. Soul family. People my soul recognized even if my mind did not.

After the meeting, we boarded buses and drove through Cairo to dinner. Before I even realized where we were, my body reacted. A powerful surge of energy moved through my belly and chest - intense, ancient, and strangely familiar. Then I saw them. The pyramids. The Sphinx. Illuminated in the night. And instead of feeling awe, I felt something completely unexpected.

Grief.

Seeing modern tourism and commercial buildings surrounding them felt wrong in my bones. Like something sacred had been misunderstood, built over, consumed in ways it was never meant to be. I was overwhelmed with waves of deep, existential grief. It was like I got punched right in the stomach.

A thought rose from somewhere deep in my body: This is not why we built this.

I understood the message. It resonated loud and clear. However, I didn’t try to analyze it in that moment. I simply let myself feel it. There were many layers wrapped up inside that grief that I will share in later blog posts and podcast episodes. But for this moment in time, it was enough to simply feel it and let it move with me through the rest of the night.

Dinner itself was beautiful. Shared plates, incredible food, and laughter moving easily through the group. Life unfolding in that strange way it sometimes does, where deep emotion and simple joy exist right alongside each other.

That was Day Zero.

The next morning, we would finally visit the pyramids.