The Revolution of Marie: How a Past Life Informs the Present

By Noel A. Brand

Author Noel A. Brand first met Marie Le Claire, a spirited young Frenchwoman, in July of 2013. Over the course of several interviews with Brand, she shared stories of her lifeand of her death in the eighteenth century. Marie is, in fact, a past-life persona of Brands present-day wife, Diane.

In this biographical study, Brand recalls how he came to discover this relationship and what that discovery meant for Diane. He first explores his own background and considers the process of accessing past lives, as well as how past lives may influence peoples present existence. He then shares Maries life story, an engaging tale that is surprisingly relevant to the struggles of women today. Finally, he discusses the connection between Marie and Diane, providing practical exercises for the reader to use in their own past-life discovery.

This personal narrative presents an exploration of past lives through the stories of a young woman from eighteenth-century France and the modern-day Australian to whom she is connected.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: May 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781452528939

Noel A. Brand

NOEL A. BRAND is a deep-trance medium, a Reiki healer, and a past-life retrocognitive. His life and work centre around his home in Victoria, Australia. He is a regular speaker and demonstrator at a spiritual church. Visit him online at www.jackandboy.com.

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Copyright © 2015 Noel A. Brand.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-2892-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-2893-9 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 05/25/2015

Contents

Introduction

Part 1

My Earliest Memory

Jack and Boy

A Sad Goodbye

Love and Spirit Visions

A Death in the Family

Another Death in the Family

The Spiritual Church and the Road to Reiki

A New Angel

Reiki and the Road to Past Lives

Past Lives Can Explain Your Problems Today

Marie, a Case in Point

Part 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Part 3

Connections

Your Past, Your Lives, Your Vibration

Meditating on Your Past Life

What Is the Future for All of Us?

For Diane:

Teacher, healer, lover, wife.

My soulmate through life.

REINCARNATION. SOME BELIEVE IN it, some don’t. Some don’t care or are not interested in pursuing it. I am a believer, and in this book you just might find something of interest for you—perhaps your past life. I will also tell you Marie’s story. This book is about connecting with past lives and using them to make sense of the present.

INTRODUCTION

I FIRST MET MARIE Le Claire in July 2013. A spirited young French woman, Marie was lean and tall in stature with long, flowing brown hair. She told me over several interviews about her life in France. Marie was a viticulturist who was born in the southern French commune of Beaucaire. She told me of her life’s fears and joys and of the three Louis who shaped her destiny.

She also told me of her death.

You see, Marie was a young woman who lived in eighteenth-century France and just happens to be a past-life persona of my present-day wife, Diane. How I came to discover this relationship and what it means for Diane form the basis of this book. I have divided the book into three parts:

• Part 1 explains my background and the process of accessing past lives.

• Part 2 contains the narrative of Marie’s life story.

• Part 3 discusses the connection between Marie and Diane and provides practical exercises for readers to begin their own past-life discovery.

I begin each section with a quote from Michael Ignatius Nelson. Mike is a spirit influence who comes through me in deep-trance channelling. A self-described old salt, Mike last sailed the earth’s seas in the late 1800s. He is currently the main source of spiritual advice for Diane and myself.

I have asked Diane to contribute her insights into the life of Marie and how that knowledge has affected her life and spiritual awareness. I am grateful for Diane’s continued input.

PART 1

To learn is to grow.

To ask is then to know.

You seek and then you find

The good in life and give in kind.

It is your right; it is your goal

To live a life that feeds the whole

being that is your body and soul.

—Michael Ignatius Nelson (spirit guide)

MY EARLIEST MEMORY

I CURRENTLY LIVE IN Victoria, Australia. I am married with two adult children and one grandchild.

My earliest childhood memory is brief but clear. I was about eighteen months old, and I was sitting at the head of what was, to me, a large bed. I was in a hospital ward. At the foot of the bed stood a doctor. He was talking to my father about me. I was sitting, looking at all the movement around me, both in the room and through the windows to the corridor behind me. It proved to be a significant memory.

I had just been diagnosed with what was then called a hole in my heart. Today it would be referred to as a heart murmur.

My father knew a little about almost everything but felt fettered by family life and was ill-prepared to be a father of eight children. His imagination gave him the ability to figure out tasks he was not really qualified to attempt. His solution to all appliance faults, for instance, was to blame the thermostat, and once it was removed, the problem would be solved. As a result, heaters, hot-water services, and kettles all had to be turned off when at temperature; no thermostats.

My heart did not have a thermostat, but Dad had noticed that the beat was unusual. Apart from the normal beat, there was an extra sound. So Dad, who worried that I might have a defective heart, took me to the doctor to check this possible abnormality. I was given all sorts of tests, with various wires attached to my body. Machines with lights and beeps would hold my attention whilst adults fussed around me in the hospital room. In the end, nothing was done. My blood pressure was a little low, but otherwise my heart passed whatever tests it was given. It wasn’t considered bad enough to operate on. The thinking was that it would mend itself. However, I was monitored over the next ten years.

Shortly after these initial medical tests, I started seeing people nobody else could see.

JACK AND BOY

I WAS A HAPPY and contented child, or so I have been told. Although one of eight children, I was very much alone in those years. Six siblings were at least three years older than I, and my younger brother was yet to be born, so I mainly played by myself.

I constantly annoyed my family by tying things together. I saw everything around me as connected by invisible string. To illustrate this, I would tie objects together using string or Mum’s knitting wool, such as the table to the chair and then that to my toys and those to the door and so on. My family were constantly tripping over furniture or moving chairs only to have other objects move with them. This went on for some time, until I had more detailed visions in the form of two friends only I could see.

Jack was a man in his late thirties who wore a white shirt, a hat, and black dress trousers. I don’t remember where the name came from; I just knew that Jack was his name. He was a fatherly figure, and I felt safe around him. My other friend, Boy, was a toddler dressed only in a nappy. Both were only visible to me, and I thank my family for not scolding me for my fanciful imaginings.

On one occasion, our neighbour Mrs. Bourke came to visit and sat at the kitchen table. Bourke, I yelled, you’re sitting on Boy! Poor Mrs. Bourke jumped up, thinking she had sat on something or someone, and my mother had to explain that I was going through a stage.

I would spend time each day with Jack and Boy, sitting in a hollow in the cypress hedge that bordered our backyard. It was the job of my older brothers to keep the hedge trimmed, and Dad made them cut the sides perfectly straight, with the top cut flat. It looked like one long rectangle running the entire length of our quarter-acre property. Dad had made a long stool and placed it inside where part of the hedge had died, creating a hollow in the centre. I would sit in there and play with my imaginary friends. Mum would bring us sandwiches for lunch; she was happy to indulge me. My recollection is that Jack and Boy ate their share of the lunch.

Boy and I would spend hours listening to Jack talk about all sorts of things, such as good and bad dreams, science … and ants. As a small boy in the back blocks of country Victoria, I was comfortable with nature. I would follow a procession of ants across the garden path to their nest and sometimes place a pinch of bread from my sandwich in its path. I noticed the ants would immediately go around this obstacle. However, if I put the bread within about two inches (five centimetres) of the nest, they would very quickly see the bread as food and band together to pull it into the nest.

Jack’s lesson was to see the ants as people and me as a god, or I would now say spirit consciousness. To the ant people, this enormous entity dropping obstacles or food in their path is nearly impossible to comprehend. This is so with our perception of godly spirit. Its total power cannot be imagined with the human mind. Nevertheless, the ant has a choice to either see the bread as an obstacle or food. The closer you get to the collective consciousness of the ant community in the nest, the more quickly the ant people accept the obstacle as potential food.

We have great power over ants—the power to make their lives difficult or easy. Our God or spirit likewise has great power over us, but it comes from love and so has only our best interests at heart. Like the ant people, we have free will; we can choose to accept the love spirit offers us or ignore it. The ant colony has a collective consciousness led by the queen, so the ants can very quickly decide to take advantage of any offering given to them. We are a little slower and have an ego, which uses the mind effectively to justify not accepting things we cannot see or understand.

Jack didn’t quite put it that way; I was barely three at the time. Somehow the meaning was conveyed to me. Mum said I spent hours entertaining myself with my imaginary friends. Much knowledge seemed to be passed from Jack to Boy and me, but I cannot remember all of what was said. The meanings, however, are felt in any number of situations in which I find myself today.

A SAD GOODBYE

OUR BACKYARD WAS LARGE by today’s standards, and Dad had much of it dug up and planted with vegetables. We had a chicken coop in the top corner and an outhouse or dunny at the end of a long path from the house. Indoor toilets are a normal part of homes these days, but in the 1950s and 1960s, town sewers were not always accessible, so the dunny was placed far enough from the house to keep the smell from reaching.

It was in the vegetable patch that one of the saddest days of my young life began; Jack had to leave me. An aeroplane (a spirit vision thereof) landed in our yard and stopped within the rows of the cabbages and pumpkins. Jack gave me Boy’s hand and told me to look after the child until he returned. Then he boarded the plane and flew away. I was devastated, and Mum could not