Wednesday Wisdom

“You’re not merely your physical self. You existed before you came into your physical body, and you will exist after you leave your body” Dr Brian Weiss MD, Healing the Mind & Spirit Cards


For some, it has been a difficult week for grief.

People die and are gone. We feel the loss of connection deeply. We wonder “Who are we now, that they are gone?” and we know that life will never be the same.

For some, religion brings comfort, but others are lost in a sea of not-knowingness, overwhelmed by feelings of deep loss, yearning to be with love ones once again.

And for those of us who are science-minded, what is our evidence that life exists beyond? How can we pursue that evidence, when we are so deeply fearful that is does not, in fact, exist. What is it all about? Why are we here?

In his scientific observations of the laws of physics, Albert Einstein said “No energy is ever lost.” Water evaporates, rises invisibly, joins into cloud formations and then when conditions are right, falls to the planet. Rain becomes lakes, streams and rivers before it evaporates again.

My clients describe to me being reunited with loved ones in past lives and between lives, and the fear lifts from their shoulders. We are more than our physical bodies.

I recommend the book “Heading Toward Omega” by Kenneth Ring for those wanting to investigate the science further. It is a place to begin with your questions.


Trained to be a Past-life Regression Therapist by Dr Brian Weiss MD, author of ‘Many Lives, Many Masters’, Anne Marie McGlasson shares his wisdom and teachings in this weekly post. Find out more about Dr Brian Weiss here…

I am a Psychotherapist. I help people know better and do better… I am a Past-life Therapist. I help people discover themselves beyond the here-and-now… I am a Hypnotherapist I help people harmonise their conscious, subconscious and higher consciousness… I am a Reiki Teacher. I help people access deep states of peace and knowingness… Can I help you?” Anne Marie McGlasson


Here I am!

Today, I heard the history of my new-old building. You’ve probably seen the pictures on my website. Built in 1929 by two Methodist philanthropists, it has seen numerous owners both famous and infamous. Some even had to flee the country for nefarious and evil deeds.

But the most wonderful thing I heard was that there is a tradition of self-employed professional people loving the building, running successful practices and staying into their 80s. There is nothing I would like better.

The move has taken considerable effort. Thanks to everyone who helped, especially Ethan, Kyran and Finn, the miracle team who managed to insert and extract a retro kitchen dresser from the vintage lift. Special thank you to Rhianne for her interior decorating and feng shui tips, and also to the guys in the BTS café store downstairs for the free ‘welcome to the building’ hot chocolate. If you haven’t tried one, they are amazing. Thank you all!

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Images: Suite 308 Epworth Building, Anne Marie McGlasson 2016

The retro couch started it all. I am quite pleased with the ‘New York loft’ feel of it (or could it be that it reminds me of Sesame Street? LOL). Stay tuned for the photos of my ‘retro kitchen’ waiting area.

I have discovered the closest carparks and how much they cost. I have also re-discovered the tram! Cheaper than parking, it drops me off on the doorstep (well, almost!) and it’s a great way to meet new friends. A lady I met today knew a friend of mine. We both laughed. It was a case of one degree of separation.

Come and visit and tell me what you think of me new suite.

I am ready to start… past life therapy anyone?


Anne Marie McGlasson is a published author, psychotherapist and clinical hypnotherapist specialising in Past Life Therapy (trained by Dr Brian Weiss, MD of ‘Many Lives, Many Masters’). Also a Reiki 7A Therapist and Reiki 3B Master-Teacher, she uses a holistic eclectic approach to ignite hope, purpose and belongingness, and believes we are all deeply connected.

Gilby… part 2

I sat at the table as Christmas dinner was served and committed myself to watching carefully. Did Grandpa really have a story for every situation? I watched him carefully, feet swinging, as Dad carved the roast with the new electric knife and Mum and Aunty whizzed back and forth from the kitchen with last minute vegetables.

We said grace. We ate. We talked. We listened to each other. Even as children, we had a voice. We were heard, but mostly I liked to listen. We were happy together. We were family.

I looked at Grandpa carefully. I noticed he was getting older. As I grew taller and my chin was rising above the table, my feet nearer and nearer to touching the floor, he seemed to be correspondingly shrinking – a function of gravity and time, he explained. Grandpa always had great explanations. I accepted his aging as children do. I could not imagine life without him in it. He held up the roof of my world.

Then I saw Grandpa take a breath, and settle into storytelling mode in his place at the head of the table.

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Image: Empty Present by Kym McLeod,

“And that reminds me…” Grandpa said.

“Here we go again,” muttered my cousin.


Gilby… part 1

It was Christmas.

“Here we go again. Another round of Gilby’s stories.”

I looked at my cousin with the round-eyed shock a small person feels when a beloved and looked-up-to elder does something unaccountable. Eight years older, he was my eldest cousin. I thought he was perfect.

When I was very small, I had decided that I would marry him when I grew up… My dad had the unfortunate task of carefully explaining why I would have to marry someone else. I thought it was a great pity. I idolized him as only a small girl can.

Unfortunately, he was going through his adolescent boy phase.

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Image: Candle by Ana Abreu, free, 2015

“But, I love Grandpa’s stories,” I objected, ignoring the fact that beloved big cousin had very incorrectly and rudely called Grandpa by his first name.

“Yes,” he huffed in agitation, “and there’s so m-a-n-y of them… and they are so l-o-n-g! How can he possibly have a story for every situation?” and rolled his eyes.

I heard the words but they made no sense. I LOVED Grandpa’s stories. I LOVED learning from the wisdom of those who had gone before. I listened and listened… I learned and learned… and every story was like a jewel reflecting light into the darkest corners and illuminating the way forward. Grandpa’s stories guided my way forward.

But was my cousin right? Was there a story for every situation? And what did it mean if there was?




We are never truly alone.

We are reunited with our loved ones again and again.

You are immortal.

How do I know?

My Grandfather taught me…

I am an Anglo-Australian woman with blonde hair (OK, it is touched up to hide the gray, but I refuse to fade as I get older!) and blue eyes. My biological ancestry is a Celtic mix of Irish, Scottish, Yorkshire and Cornish. I was taught to be proud of my English and Scottish ancestry. I was taught to be proud that I am 5th generation Australian. I was taught about the alcoholism that came with that ancestry. I was not taught about how white people dispossessed and killed aboriginal people for land, and my Irish ancestry was not advertised. In a lot of ways, as Australians, we are still not far enough from those colonial times when pubs had signs advertising “No dogs, No blacks, No Irish.”

But as I stood on the grass at Rhinebeck after another life-altering past-life regression with Dr Brian Weiss, my current-day, Celtic-derived self was still overshadowed by the me of the past. I knew I was taller and fitter and stronger. I held my head proudly and testosterone flowed through my body. Dark hair flowed down my back in a dark river that shone in the sunshine. I walked with other feet that knew the shape of the Earth beneath.

“How did you know your Grandfather preferred you to your brothers?” asked another participant.

“Because I was the best.” I answered.

My present-day self cringed at the lack of humility – the arrogance. My Navajo self lifted his face to the sun and knew the truth. I was the oldest. I was the fittest. I was the strongest. I was the most intelligent. I revelled in looking after my tribe. It was my place. One day I would be an elder… just like my Grandfather. I could see the truth reflected in the firelight of his eyes as the tribe sat together many night times… listening to the stories…

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Image: Campfire by xannca-d7ap3af, DeviantArt, 2015

But it was not to be. Not this life time.



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


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.


Image: Bleeding Hearts 2, by Lauren Burbank at free

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.


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.


Image: Introspect by Ramasamy Chidambaram at

“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.


Past Life Regression Therapy training… the experience!

“Our souls are timeless and endless, existing beyond all dimensions, preceding all space, all emptiness, all matter, all forces, and all energies. How magnificent we truly are!” Dr Brian Weiss, 2015


Image: Botanic Garden Lilies, Anne Marie McGlasson 2014

“Pick the door that seems right to you… and when you are ready, walk through…” I let Brian’s calm and gentle voice wash over me, happy to surrender to his instruction.

I found myself… in India… in about 1500.

“Good grief!” I thought looking down at myself. “This has to be true… I have always detested this colour. I wouldn’t wear it even in my imagination… so this has to be true!”

I watched the water trickle from my fingertips, totally entranced by the perfection of each droplet as it separated from the puddle in my palm, then arced through the air to re-join the water in the pond. A perfect lesson in everything returning to the Divine.

The garden was magnificent, huge and built over many levels. There were sandstone fountains and beautiful trees, flowers and exotic fruits. In some places it was shady and in other places it was sun-kissed. But what mattered to me was this small and private, almost neglected corner.

The water held a slight green tinge. It didn’t matter to me. Water was sacred. Water was my element. I would join the priesthood and study and discover all the mysteries that water would share with me. In communion with water, I would share the wisdom it offered. There would be many supplicants seeking answers. I would answer them but the questions would come as from a distance. What would always matter most to me would be this communion with water.

I was richly and traditionally dressed in a sari of burgundy with woven gold edging. I had no shoes on… and I didn’t care. My ankles were encircled with solid gold anklets adorned with small bells that tinkled with each step. I wore the heavy gold jewelry on my body with indifference. I didn’t care. I hadn’t dressed myself. I was dressed for my father’s pleasure. To do him honour.

I had stood patiently and vacantly after a rich breakfast, until the servants had done their work of dressing me… until I could run away into the garden. I knew that they thought I was simple, that my brain was damaged, and it suited me to be thought of this way. It made me unmarriageable, and if I was unmarriageable, I could have my way and be sent to the priesthood. I waited for… longed for… the moment my father would gave up on me in disgust, as the various suitors had.

The water spun delicately from my fingertips back into the pond.

There was a cry of joy and a small girl dressed in iridescent orange hurled herself into my arms. She was about 2. I was her older sister. I was 16 or 17. We had no mother. We were alone a lot, apart form the servants, who knew to keep apart from us. Our father was a cold and distant man, not a cruel man, but a powerful man consumed by the responsibilities of his position. We didn’t know him well. And so, I was the only mother she had ever known, and in the way of older siblings…

I thought she was a pest. This joyful little girl so full of love for me was… a nuisance to me.

It was not my proudest moment to realize that I had indeed left her for the priesthood. That she grew up in that big house alone. That she made the state marriage my father was so intent upon for me. That she brought him the honour he needed for the political games he played. She stood in my place and sacrificed her life so I could have the freedom of a spiritual path… and I had not even acknowledged it.

With the shock of a sledgehammer, I knew who the little girl was…

Tears streamed down my face.

It was Bhavi.


Past Life Regression Therapy training… it begins!

I was so ready to learn. I was so ready to have those transformational experiences that cannot be described but change you in that subtle way that is just better.

The yoga chairs were brilliant – back support with a cushion on the floor – perfect for people like me who go into trance easily. Around me, people were wriggling and fussing, making nests of pillows and blankets, like a cat would before curling in comfort to sleep. Yes! The cushion under me was in perfect position to support my balanced spine seated in the yoga position. Crystals in hand, I was ready.

Bhavi and friends chatted away, equally as excited and in the early moments of meeting beloved strangers, Bhavi confessed to me “I don’t know why, but I have never felt loved. I know I am loved. My family love me, but I don’t feel loved.”

Brian and Carole Weiss appeared on the dais to applause – such beautiful, humble and humorous people – welcoming us like we were entering their home for a dinner party. And I guess in a way, we were. Twenty two years of holding experiential workshops made Omega home to them, and over the course of the week, made Omega home to us as well. I let the spirit of their generousity wash over me.

“… and so, we are going to have lots of experiences, because I have found that this leads to the greatest success. It is better,” said Brian, and with this simple introduction he led 150 of us into a Past Life Regression.


I know myself. I know that I soak up the emotions of those around me like a sponge. I know that some days I can’t walk through the shopping centre. One upon a time, I couldn’t walk into a crystal shop. The energies would overwhelm me. I would go blind and find myself unable to walk.

I have got better at knowing what is ‘me’ and what is ‘another’. I have become stronger and more grounded as I have got older… as I have practiced Reiki and meditation. But it still amazed me how Brian and Carole could lead hundreds of people into past life experiences, people sitting centimetres apart from each other, sometimes touching, and having unique and powerful experiences… and I WAS FINE. Brian says “Miracles happen”. This is how I knew Brian and Carole were the teachers for me. This was my first miracle.