We are all connected…

We are all connected…

Unsurprisingly, I had nightmares that night.

When I finally returned to my hotel room after the first day of the ‘Many Lives Many Masters’ workshop with Dr Brian Weiss, I reluctantly turned on the TV, feeling compelled by a sense of world citizenship. “I should make sure that I know what is happening.” I told myself.

I watched the strained faces of the reporters, I heard the attempts at counting bodies and watched the mountain of flowers grow, and I felt numb and disconnected. It always surprises me – that disconnect. You think I would be prepared for it. There have been so many atrocities in my lifetime, so many disasters, some the violence of nature and some the violence of man.

But I never get used to experiencing those first moments and feeling nothing because it is so shocking… and feeling like I should feel something.

I started to sense the fear being broadcast along with the terrible news, infecting listeners like the most recent form of winter flu. I knew better than to absorb the violence and cruelty into my aura.

I took a deep breath and imagined Light and Love and Healing pouring into Paris. I asked for everyone affected to be nurtured and supported during the crisis. And I asked for forgiveness for the misguided souls who had perpetrated such a criminal act. But I had overlooked something.

I woke in the early hours, bathed in sweat and overwhelmed by panic.

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Image: The Ochre Pits – Sacred Site, Central Australia by Anne Marie McGlasson, 1993

The aboriginal sacred sites were filled with mud. They were choking with pollution and crying out to me for help. I was up to my waist and covered in mud, digging, digging and digging. trying desperately to clear the mud so that the sites could glow again. So they could do their job as a part of a greater system of transmitting life force around the planet. And there was too much mud. It was caving back in on me as I tried to move it away. I was failing. My chest heaved with tortured sobs.

Barely awake, I frantically texted one of my favourite friends from Past Life Regression Therapy training. It was only the next day that I realized that I hadn’t been very coherent, but he listened and lovingly put the dirt under my feet… and I went back to sleep so my higher consciousness could finish the job.

We are one world and one people. What affects one of us affects us all. We are instrinsically attached to this planet we call Earth – mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Indigenous people understand this. Their ceremonies and rituals honour our interconnection with the planet.

The impact of terrorist attack in Paris spread out like a wave, washing through people’s psyche and filling the sacred sites of the world with shock and horror. And there was a group of souls who answered the call to action. I was not alone in clearing the scared sites that night. I woke in the morning with a vision – the sacred sites were clear and once again transmitting their golden light back to humanity.

Click here for more information about our connection to the planet.

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There is a balance…

I rarely watch the news anymore. Dr Brian Weiss’ theory that we all live in an Earth School, and that the first graders (as he calls them) have high-jacked the media with less than mature behaviour, makes total sense to me. My increasing sensitivity over the past few years means that one episode of the news affects me like a physical assault. I just can’t sit through the pain of fast-track repetitive and indigestible violence and trauma… so, as a result, I miss things.

“Paris? What’s wrong in Paris?” I thought.

“I promise you,” said Brian with his wry and laconic humour. “I don’t schedule these events to coincide with my workshops. It just seems to happen.”

“OK, it’s bad.” I thought.

“And if we could all share a minute’s silence in respect…” said a somber Leon Nacson.

“OK, people are dead” I thought as I closed my eyes and willed Light and Love, Peace and calm to go anyone who needed it. I didn’t find out how bad it was until I got back to my room much later.

“What these souls don’t realize is that they are going to spend many lifetimes making up for their actions… to their victims… and their loved ones. Their spiritual development will be delayed until these debts are cleared. Eventually they will succeed, but it is going to take some time.” Brian continued.

The idea brought me some peace. People can be so vengeful when they are angry and upset. It worries me what a complicated mess we can make of things if we let these feelings dictate our actions. It was soothing for me to remember that there is a natural order and justice to the world. Nothing is ever forgotten, and there is a force that encourages balance in our experience as individuals and as a group of souls.

Which was fortunate, because I was just about to come face to face with my own aggressive nature…

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Expectations

I never get what I expect. While I might hope for certain things and feel anxious about outcomes, somehow it always ends up differently, especially when we are talking about Past-life therapy.

I have always had a natural inclination to follow my nose. When I was going to University, I was awed and slightly intimidated by a girlfriend who had a 5 year plan for her life. It was so amazing to me that she could have such clarity 5 years into the future.

“You really should have one” she would say, and I would feel slightly guilty that I didn’t have the drive to complete my own 5 year plan. I wondered to myself “How can I have a 5 year plan when I don’t even know what I am doing tomorrow?”

Life always seems to have worked out best for me when I looked for the signs that were pointing the way forward. The Universe seemed to have a way of presenting me with the answers to the questions I asked myself in my head. And that is not to say that I got it right all the time.

The first spiritual lesson is discrimination and I have had many painful lessons of trusting people who seemed to have answers for me – people who promised love and affection, wisdom and insight – but delivered something else entirely. Fortunately, I also seemed to have the ability to disentangle myself from these people… sometimes quickly and other times over years. I guess that’s what’s called resilience. It taught me to identify the true teachers from the false.

So as I sat nervously with bated breath in the Melbourne Exhibition Centre waiting for Dr Brian Weiss to begin the ‘Many Lives, Many Masters’ Conference, I was hoping for miracles and soul connections but wondering how anything could measure up to the meeting of my group of souls at Past Life Regression Therapy Training at Omega in Rhinebeck.

… and then Paris was attacked by terrorists.

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Image: Paris Peace Sign by John Jullien, 2015

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Soul mate… the sticking point

I love animals. I have been told that I have a unique connection to animals that others don’t have. They are important to me. I see the beauty in their forms and faces. I see them in my dreams… and when they are in trouble, they find me there, so I can send them to the Light. I love my pets… and yet for years, there has been a block.

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Image: Hjordis by Kristbane, DeviantArt 2015

** This is what Cricket looked like when she first came home.

I hunger for connection. I love them when they are small. I fret over them when they are sick. I make sure they have what they need, but I struggle with just being together. I don’t seem able to reach out for the love that is right there for me.

How did I get here? There was a lesson of love to be discovered.

I have always had a dog… and I have lost my dogs in a series of heart rending tragic events. It makes sense that these experiences have erected a wall between me and the love I see shining in their eyes. It’s like they are patiently waiting for me to put the pieces together. But is that the whole picture?

As a baby, I played in the tall grass in our backyard. It was a new house in a new development. It was farming land. There was no lawn, only tall grass. Mum says that she knew where I was because she could see the grass rustling. Me and my dog, making tunnels and loving each other.

I don’t know what happened to him. I have no memory of him. I regret it.

Later, I sat in the middle of a mass of wriggling bodies. They crawled over my legs and sucked my fingers. It was pure joy. One of these would be mine. How could I choose? They were all wonderful. My little sister was making a fuss about why she couldn’t have one too, but Dad explained that this would be my puppy. I called him Buster. He loved me… until she took him for a walk to the shops and then left him on the front lawn. We drove around and around. I called his name in heart broken accents, the pain in my chest was so bad, but he never answered me. My heart was empty. I don’t know what happened to him.

More wriggling puppies, but there was a distance for me now. It was not a joy. I was only eight, but I had been raped, made a pariah and outcast form my community, moved to a different town and lost daily contact with the grandparents I needed. Her name was Zara. She survived Cyclone Tracy with a twisted hip but had to be shot because Mum and us kids had been evacuated and Dad couldn’t look after her while re-building the city. I was not spared the knowledge of what happened to her.

Fade to grey… Dad finally rejoined us in Adelaide. My brother insisted that we get a puppy from the same breeders. He insisted that the new puppy be the same colour and same name. Zara II loved me when I hit rock bottom. I know she loved me. She lived to a good old age. I just couldn’t step outside my losses.

I understood all of these experiences. I accepted them. But if acceptance and understanding was the key to new behaviours, why was I still stuck decades later?

Cricket was waiting patiently for me to have the necessary breakthrough.

“No matter how close we are to another person, few human relationships are as free from strife, disagreement, and frustration as is the relationship you have with a good dog. Few human beings give of themselves to another as a dog gives of itself. I also suspect that we cherish dogs because their unblemished souls make us wish – consciously or unconsciously – that we were as innocent as they are, and make us yearn for a place where innocence is universal and where the meanness, the betrayals, and the cruelties of this world are unknown.”

Dean Kootz, A Big Little Life: A memoir of a Joyful Dog

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Soul mate… everyday miracles

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” Albert Einstein

The tiny warm bundle that snuggled with room to spare in my cupped hands was deeply asleep. I could feel the boneless way she was lying. All babies did this when I held them. Eventually, their little bodies would just… relax.

She has sucked urgently on my thumb while the Reiki energy poured into her body. She recognized it. It was life. It was love. It was what she needed to survive.

The breeder watched in amazement. “I don’t know what you are doing there and I don’t know how she recognizes it as nourishment… but she does.”

Time to put her back to bed with her sister.

Lizzie’s babies were in the laundry.

“I had to put her in here to whelp” said the breeder. “I couldn’t trust her not to abandon them in a bigger pen and its too cold this time of year for the babies not to be close to their mums.” I had already had a tour of the shed where the ‘good mums’ had their babies, their happy little faces enquiring of me what I might want.

Lizzie tried to bolt out of the door. “No, no” said the breeder sternly. “You stay here and look after your babies. That’s your job.” And then quietly added “…and this is the last litter for you. You are clearly not enjoying it and it’s not fair on the puppies.”

Lizzie eyed us speculatively.

“My biggest worry” said the breeder “is that I cant get her to eat, and if she wont eat, there’s no milk for the puppies. She’s making colostrum and her milk should come in shortly, but not if she wont eat. I don’t hold out much hope. I think the biggest puppy will do OK hand reared, but the little one… she has a slight underbite… oops there goes the phone! I’ll be right back.”

I squatted down on my haunches. I looked Lizzie dead in the face. Compassion poured from my heart for her. I felt so sorry for her. I felt sorry for myself.

“I know it’s hard” I coached her. “It’s hard birthing them. It’s hard raising them, but you have responsibilities. There really isn’t a choice. They are relying on you.” I laid symbols over her to comfort her and energise her for the job that needed doing.

The breeder walked back into the laundry as Lizzie snatched a couple of mouthfuls and then laid down for the puppies to suckle.

She looked at me in round eyed shock “What did you do?”

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Image: Lizzie by Anne Marie McGlasson, 2004

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Soul mate… with four legs

“Be the person your dog thinks you are.” JW Stephens

When I met her, she fit in the palm of my hand… so tiny, so perfect.

“I’m not sure what is going to happen,” said the breeder. We sat together in the cosy warmth of her farmhouse kitchen, the steam from our teacups humbly rising to the heavens, as she explained to me the ins-and-outs of Border Terriers.

“Her mother, Lizzie, didn’t do very well with her last litter. She could probably be described as neurotic. She refuses to eat, and she just won’t lie down for the puppies to suckle. She runs out the door when she can and is never in a hurry to come back to them. It’s not normal. On top of that, she is particularly rebellious if it is a man asking her to do something.”

Boy, could I sympathise! Challenges with mothering… check! Cranky at men telling me what to do… check! Desperately wanting to run away from the responsibility of it all… check! check! I had a marriage on the rocks, two traumatised children and something had to change…

So I went looking for someone to help me keep my dreams alive…

And I found this a sleepy little bundle of warmth and hope.

I tapped into the energy that was singing in my body and I gave it to her. She was so tiny. I drew symbol after symbol and laid them over her little body like a mother covering her child with a blanket. I held her to my heart so she could hear it beating. I let the strength of my life force be her guide.

“Three puppies were born, but two weren’t hardy. The little boy has already died and I’m so sorry, but this little girl is not looking strong either. She may not live. We’ll know in the next day.”

She latched onto my thumb and started to suckle. She wanted to live.

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Image: Cricket by Chandler Meakins, 2011

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Soul mate

It was a time for healing relationships.

She was small and cute, and loved me with all her heart.

And from the moment I first saw her, I loved her right back.

I loved her sense of humour and how she skipped with joy when she was happy. She was my rock, she was my safety net and she forgave me all my mistakes. She was always just quietly… there. I held her in my arms and cried. She was getting old. I wasn’t ready for her to go yet. I hadn’t had enough of her time and attention. I needed her still.

There always seemed to be some drama, some urgency that got in the way of us just spending time together. She never complained and she was always glad to see me… She always radiated a gentle acceptance of anything I had to offer. I was so sick of the various dramas that got in the way of us being together. Why was it so hard? I knew all the excuses but I just couldn’t seem to get past them to work it out.

“It’s time” I thought. “Time to change, and time for her to come first. Time for both of us to be first with each other – so we can heal. She needs more of me… and I definitely need her.”

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Image: Heart beads by Bas van der Wiel at freeimages.com

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You can remember everything…

“Whatever you have forgotten, you can remember.

Whatever you have buried you can unearth.

If you are willing to look deep into your own nature,

if you are willing to peel away the layers of not-self you have adopted

in making your way through the tribulations of life,

you will find that your true self is not as far removed as you think.”

Meredith Jordan

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Image: Love is everywhere taken by Lauren Tatner, 2015

with help from the clear sighted Julia Treat

Truth saying and story telling

“I hope people realize that Past LIfe Regression Therapy works” Bhavi, 2015

Writing the story of ‘Bhavi and me’ took months.

I wasn’t ready.

The magic, the transformation of the experience was so powerful… so sacred that I could only sit with the truth of it. It was some months before I was ready to re-live the experience and find the words that would do it justice.

Bhavi gave me permission to write and share our story from the very first moment. “You should share our experience with Brian and Carole (Weiss). I am happy for you to do that. People may learn from it.” She said, as we walked out into the summer sunshine… together after 500 years.

Every time I looked at her, tears welled up in joy and gratitude. It was automatic. It was a reaction unconnected to my conscious brain. More than anything else, it was this inexplicable welling up of love for a beloved stranger that confirmed this experience as real.

“Emotions never lie.” I reminded myself. “Emotions are the bridge to spiritual truth.” When I left Omega to come home to Australia, the awful pain of separation was like leaving one of my children behind.

And later, when I suggested sharing our story more widely, Bhavi repeated “You should do it” and sent me kisses via WhatsApp.

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Image: Bleeding Hearts 2, by Lauren Burbank at free images.com

Some of you may have been wondering whether the stories I have been sharing are fictional. My purpose in sharing these stories has been to entertain, engage and yes! to educate. To open your hearts and minds to greater possibilities. They are all true.

And as Seth Godin suggests and was my intention… Never be boring.

The truth is… you are immortal.

The truth is… we are all connected.

The truth is… we are re-united with our souls mates again and again.

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Past Life Regression Therapy training… the aftermath!

“Learn everything you can from the past, and then let it go. If, earlier in your life, others could not express their love to you, it was because they were blocked, not because of some defect in you.” Dr Brian Weiss, 2015

“And I will awaken you by counting up from 10 to 1… with each number you will feel more and more alert… 1…. 2… 3…”

My face was wet with the tears of my grief… and horror. What had I done?

“4… 5… 6…”

I gently released the experience of that life… a high ranking girl with aspirations to the priesthood… and brought the healing back with me.

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Image: Introspect by Ramasamy Chidambaram at freeimages.com

“7… 8…”

My baby sister was not gone. I had left her to her fate without a thought… and she was sitting right beside me.

“9… 10…”

I opened my eyes and her dark velvety eyes looked right back at me.

“Are you OK?”

“I… I… I…” deep breath. “I was Indian. We were together. You were my little sister and I was a … shitty big sister. I thought you were a pest. I am so sorry. I didn’t look after you and I should have. I am so sorry.”

A river of tears poured from my heart.

In some quiet corner of my mind, I wondered if she thought I had lost it… crazy or opportunistic… it didn’t matter. My heart was the open wound you feel when you lose your child and find her again.

And then the miracle happened.

“I didn’t want to say anything. I thought you would think I was crazy. When I met you, I saw my mother’s eyes. I thought maybe you were my mother.” Bhavi’s tears mixed with mine. “I forgive you. I love you.”

I held her and rocked her like she was still the baby in the orange tunic I had just left. “I love you too.”

We cried and cried, and like any good mother should, I supplied the tissues for snotty noses from the depths of my suitably stocked handbag. The tissues rained down like confetti at a wedding.

Then Bhavi lifted her dewy eyes to mine with wonder “It’s gone… that feeling. I don’t feel unloved anymore. It’s gone.”

 

 

PS The third miracle was that in searching for an image that looked like Bhavi in India in the 1500s, I found her again… in a free image on the internet… this is exactly how she looked to me.

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