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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White Ribbon Day

While it is Thanksgiving in America, Australia has been having White Ribbon Day – a week devoted to educating ourselves and standing up to men’s violence against women.

Of particular note, have been excellent documentaries by the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) called ‘Hitting Home with Sarah Ferguson’ and ‘Call Me Dad’. There was also an incredible Q&A episode where a senior policeman asked us all to consider men who hit woman as criminals. As he explained, assault is criminal behaviour.

This is how we would like women to be treated in Australia…

Duluth model_equality wheel

One Australian woman a week dies after being murdered by a partner. This is an issue for us all to be informed about. Nova Peris made an inspiring appeal to us all not to let ourselves down, not to let our communities down and not to let our children down.

This is what we don’t want to continue…

Duluth model_power & control wheel

My contribution to this week is to share these diagrams with you. The Duluth model has been around for a long time. I have used it to great effect in classrooms and in counselling sessions because it is clear and descriptive. I hope it helps you identify behaviours that are abusive, behaviours that are wholesome, and behaviours that are helpful.

Hint: the behaviour type is in bold in the centre of the circle.

And if you have a friend or family member in trouble…

Duluth model_advocacy wheel

For help (in Australia) please call 1800RESPECT, go to your local Women’s shelter, or call the Police. It’s time for change.

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Help is on the way, or is it?

One day a bright blue sign appeared. The happy colour if it chirruped at me, calling me to attention. Carefully secured to the humble wire fence at the train crossing, it read “Need support in a crisis?” Call Lifeline now 13 11 14”

My stomach dropped and horror swelled up to engulf me. I felt sick.

I knew without a doubt that someone had lost their life – someone who had been a mother, sister, daughter, niece – someone who had been a father, brother, son or nephew – someone who was missed and mourned, or someone that no one mourned. Someone was dead and I hadn’t even noticed.

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In the merry chiming of the crossing gates and the confident toots of the train coming into the station, I had missed the despair of someone ending it all. I had missed the final moments of a human being less that 100m from my door – me – who specializes in trauma, grief, stress and sexual abuse support. How did that happen? HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?

I have helped so many people. I have sat with people as they were battered by their emotional storms. I have thrown them a rope, helped them find their lifeboat and row for the shore. I have stood in their way when they have talked of taking their lives and said with authority “Not this way! Not this way! We will find the way forward together.” And so, we found a way… mostly.

I have failed so few times, but I have failed. And when I failed, all I could do was pray that they would be alive tomorrow. Knowing for certain that life would get better if they just held on through the dark days, but unable to inspire them with the sureness that I felt for them.

And for everyone I helped, I knew there were more who never reached out for help and others who never found the help they were seeking. How do WE let this happen?

I raged at the way people are turned into statistics and labeled with depression and society goes on as before. I am personally affronted that young people have electricity put through their brains because it is the only way we know to keep them alive. There has to be a better way. There has to be a solution… because dead is not dead.

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Go back to the moment the problem first began… part 1

It was 1993 and I was still having problems – flashbacks, nightmares and being triggered by similar situations. Most of the work I had done to heal myself of being raped when I was seven and made outcast from my community, I had done alone. My mother, bless her, had ascribed to the view that if I was treated as if I were normal, I would be normal, as if by sheer force of will she could take the event away from me. And she was very nearly right. She saved me from the label of victim and the trauma of telling the story over and over and amplifying the damage.

But the silence and lack of acknowledgement did a lot of damage too. Everyone knew. It was like the elephant in the room everywhere I went, but I knew that she believed me. I had heard her scream with rage at the neighbours who labelled me a liar before my dad tossed them out of our house. It nurtured me through the years following even though they had not meant me to hear and believed me to be in bed and fast asleep.

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I was left to think and wonder and work it out for myself. I made the errors in logic that children do when left to their own musings. I had asked to go on the sleepover, everyone loves him and ‘it’s all my fault’. I had no context for the sexual interaction that had occurred, no way to know it was wrong, but somehow I did know it was wrong. The dissonance took my voice and gave me convulsions. I was mute and terrified in my first encounters with boys.

Healing began with the boundless love of my teenage sweetheart but that was a long time in the past. Occasionally, as I grew older and the nightmares got worse, I reached out for professional help. I was mostly rebuffed, or found that those helping had ulterior motives. I was definitely on my own.

And then a new psychologist joined the company I was working for and we struck up a friendship. Her particular passion was hypnosis. She was new to it and proud of her skills. I shared my story. “We can fix those symptoms really fast” she said, and invited me to her rooms.

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