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

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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.

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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/

 

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…

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Image: Campfire by xannca-d7ap3af, DeviantArt, 2015

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

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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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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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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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Past Life Regression Therapy training

I love the beginning of workshops and conferences. The hushed expectation – people finding seats in a dance of mystery that places together the people who have natural synchronicity, whether they like it or not. And when the workshop has been organised with full support from the teachers who reside on the higher sub-plane of the mental plane, then miracles are in the air.

I was still bemused by my morning meditation. The image had been quite clear in spite of my way of perceiving things. My feel-sense-see way of doing things showed me a crystal palace of the most beautiful and colourful hues radiating the purest of energies and floating over the top of the hall. It was a promise of wonderful things to come. It was something I could trust.

All my senses were heightened and I was glad that I was staying at Omega, at the workshop venue. From years of meditation and Reiki and experiences in the desert, I was quite aware that I was in a heightened state. I gave myself full permission to do exactly what I felt inclined to, and not worry that I may be too vague to connect well socially. I was grateful not to have to navigate roads and cars. Putting one foot in front of the other and not falling over was enough for me to be content.

Breakfast with Bhavi and friends had been a pleasant social occasion and I was happily scooped up into the group walk from the dining hall to the workshop. To my Southern Australian eyes, it was all so green and lush. Each footstep was a celebration of life. The summer humidity nurtured plants and animals alike – the wild ones quite unselfconsciously helped themselves to the organic vegetables in the garden.

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Image: Groundhog, Anne Marie McGlasson, 2015

“Please sit with us.” said Bhavi, and I found myself sandwiched comfortably between two Indian women. The room was a kaleidoscope of people of different cultures and accents, everyone finding their place and finding themselves, centreing themselves in their experience, and locating the connections past, present and future.

“OK” I thought, taking note. “It could be an Indian past life that is important.”

I was under no illusions that my conscious mind had any say in it at all. After all, I had gone to the experiential workshop with Brian and Carole Weiss in Coolum (QLD) the year before. At the end of my time as an adult educator, my conscious intention was to learn new work skills. But what actually occurred threw me into a positive healing trajectory that was entirely personal.

I knew that I could not predict whatever was about to occur…

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Breakfast at Omega

Breakfast was uneventful – a group of pleasant people enjoying an organic breakfast. I had only been here hours and already I could feel my spirit relaxing into this soulful environment of gentle voices and gentle manners. Giant fans whirled lazily overhead in the beautiful timber dining hall. I idly wondered how many Americans were nostalgic for the summer camps of their childhood. As an Australian, this was a foreign environment with unknown rules. I released all expectations and allowed for whatever to happen… to happen. Magic was in the air.

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Image: Tranquility, Anne Marie McGlasson, 2015

Volunteers scrambled to make sure we got our breakfast. The kitchen was run with military precision. There was a ripple of disconcerted murmurs amongst the breakfast diners as they realised that meat was served only twice a week. The news was even worse if you had a sweet tooth. I could see how desert could become a celebration if it was only served twice a week. I found boiled eggs to add to my spinach leaves. I was happy.

And the coffee drinkers were happy. Yes! Thanks to Dr Brian Weiss, there was coffee. We were to find out that some years prior, he had carefully explained to administrators that the workshop was uncomfortable for people suffering withdrawl symptoms. The coffee machine sat side by side with organic juices. I went for the juice.

My new friend returned with her breakfast and the entourage she had gathered around her since her arrival. I expected soul connections, after all this was a ‘Past Life’ workshop, but I thought that was pretty efficient for overnight.

She gave me a pretty smile and turned her big brown eyes on me.

“Hello, my name is Bhavi.”

“Pabi?”

“Bhavi… Bhavi…” she said, giving me a chance to tune my ears into her name and her liquid Indian accent “but some people have trouble with that… you can call me Bobbie if you choose.”

What she didn’t know is that my mother’s name is Bobbie.

What I didn’t know was that she looked at me and recognized the eyes of her mother.

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