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

img_9818

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.

Blog_signature

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… http://www.brianweiss.com

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 https://www.facebook.com/wellnesswisdompeace/

 

Lessons in love…

“Instead of worrying about specific outcomes and results, just do the right thing. Reach out unselfishly and with love.” Brian Weiss

A mask of grief overlaid her pretty face, and mascara stained her pretty cheeks. She appealed to me with desperate wet-washed eyes to support her belief in love.

She just made a mistake, she said. She married the wrong man, she said. She had tricked herself into believing it was true love, or he had tricked her into believing it was true love, but she knew that her Prince Charming was waiting for her. Somewhere over the horizon was the man she would live happily ever after with – thoughts that kept her strong during the dying throes of a doomed relationship – kept her strong to care for the children.

“I know I will find him,” she said. “I think he may even be in my life right now. When I find my soul mate my life will be simple and filled with love.”

paris-1189181

Image: Paris, Luca de Luca, 2016

She was right… and she was wrong.

“Our lessons in this earth school must be learned by our hearts, at the deepest levels.” Brian Weiss

“Oh honey!” I thought. “What can I tell you? Your soul mate is always going to bring you your greatest challenges.” Then I poured all the love in my heart into the bond between us.

Blog_signature

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.

Blog_160131 empty-present-1306483_by_Kym_McLeod

Image: Empty Present by Kym McLeod, freeimages.com

“And that reminds me…” Grandpa said.

“Here we go again,” muttered my cousin.

Blog_signature

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.

Blog_160130 candle-1460271_by_Ana_Abreu

Image: Candle by Ana Abreu, free images.com, 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?

Blog_signature

 

Grandfather…

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…

Blog_160129 campfire_by_xannca-d7ap3af.jpg

Image: Campfire by xannca-d7ap3af, DeviantArt, 2015

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

Blog_signature

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.

Blog_151219_1993 Ochre Pits2

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.

Blog_signature

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.

Blog_151213_hjordis_by_kristbane

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

Blog_signature

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.

Blog_151211_Cricket 2011

Image: Cricket by Chandler Meakins, 2011

Blog_signature

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.”

Blog_151210_heart-beads-1183299

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

Blog_signature

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.

Blog_151205_bleeding-hearts-2-1370705

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.

Blog_signature