From: Life on the Other Side by Sylvia Browne

Several psychiatrist, psychologist, and physician friends were doing their own research into reincarnation at the time, and we consulted with each other regularly. Finally several of us gathered one weekend for a panel discussion on the subject, in an auditorium.
Before we started, we discussed the possibility of doing a spontaneous past-life regression onstage, on a volunteer from the audience. My colleagues were hesitant about it. My attitude was, as always: if it works, it works. If it doesn't, it doesn't. But we'll never know until we try.
A handful of people volunteered, and I chose an attractive, well-dressed young man who looked as if he wasn't quite buying this reincarnation blather, but he was patient enough to keep listening on the off chance that we were right.
Before I began the hypnosis process, I asked him if he had any physical or emotional health problems or any phobias that were bothering him. He mentioned a chronically painful right foot, which podiatrists couldn't seem to cure. As for phobias, he confessed a fear that no matter how successful he became or how hard he tried to be liked, people would always see through him, figure out how  inadequate he really was, and laugh at him behind his back.
He was a good subject, willing but not too eager, and easy to hypnotize. I took him slowly through the regression to show the audience how it worked, to keep him comfortable, and to prove that I wasn't leading him and that all the information came from him, not from me. We worked patiently back through this lifetime, to his birth, to the moment of his conception, to his death in a life before this one.
And then we all watched as, with no cue from me, his right foot turned in, as if it were deformed, and his whole demeanor changed from a veneer of self-confidence to a shy, sad, apologetic shadow.
I asked him what today's date was. He gave me a date in 1821, which was 154 years ago.
He introduced himself with a name different from the one he'd given when he arrived onstage, and as far as he was concerned we were in a small town in Virginia instead of a city in northern California. His brief life was an embarrassing burden to his parents and a lonely object of ridicule among his classmates.
My subject on that particular afternoon reported several months later that he'd never suffered another  moment of discomfort in his foot, and never again had he worried about others laughing at him.
Reincarnation is God's logical, loving, compassionate design for the eternal journey of our spirits.
I didn't just want to believe it, I had too much evidence not to believe it. 

From: Life on the Other Side - By Sylvia Browne

I was doing weight-loss hypnotherapy on a new client when he suddenly seemed to lose his mind. First he talked, in the present tense, about his life in Egypt as a builder of pyramids. He included some fascinating details about antigravitational devices that were so fantastic I couldn't follow them. Next he launched into a lengthy monologue in what sounded like an endless series of nonsense syllables. I thought he was having a psychotic episode and knew it could be dangerous to him for me to interrupt him, so I listened and tried to appear calm while silently begging him not to become violent. But then, just as suddenly as he flipped out, he snapped right back to his normal, soft-spoken, pleasant self again, as if the previous half hour had never happened.
With his permission, I sent a tape of that session to a professor friend of mine at Stanford and asked for his objective evaluation. If this client needed psychiatric help, I was prepared to drive the poor man there myself. 
Three days after I delivered the tape to Stanford, my phone rang, and a voice on the other end said, "Where did you get this tape?" I had never heard my professor friend sound so excited.
I responded with a noncommittal, "Why do you ask?"
It seems that in those three days, he had studied and researched that tape and shared it with colleagues who researched it as well, and they came to a conclusion that astounded us all: my client's supposed "nonsense syllables" were really an obscure seventh-century-B.C. Assyrian dialect in which any number of pyramid builders would have been fluent.

Astral Travel by Sylvia Browne from: Life on the Other Side

Christopher seemed to learn to astrally project at around the same time he learned to walk. We had a shag carpet in our house when Chris was a toddler. I can't count the number of times when he would be sitting serenely beside me, and I would notice he was being a little too serene. Next thing I knew, while his body never moved, I would see tiny footprints in the carpet as his spirit merrily pranced off to play. A stern "Chris, get back here!" was all it took to retrieve him, and he would look innocently up at me with a little smile that said, "Who, me? I'm just sitting here." 
The first astral trip Angelia took that we know of happened when she was three. Chris and his wife, Gina, and I tucked her in one night as usual. There was a balloon beside her bed, left over from an earlier party. Angelia seemed to be sound asleep when the three of us tiptoed out of her room and returned to the den. At first we only found it odd, some silly fluke of the drafts in the house, that the balloon followed us every step of the way. But the fluke theory fell apart when it then followed Chris into the kitchen, from the refrigerator to the cabinets to the sink, pausing with him at each place until he'd finished there and moved on. By now we were incredulous, so Chris began marching through the house, turning sharp corners, heading halfway up the stairs and down again, stepping into and abruptly out of rooms again, and that balloon never left his side. Finally a possible explanation occurred to me, and I turned to Chris and Gina and said, "Come with me." The four of us - Chris, Gina, me, and our new pet balloon - headed to Angelia's room. I sat down beside her on the bed and whispered, "Angelia, what are you doing?" There was a giggle in her voice when she replied, "Following Daddy."   

From: Visits from the Afterlife - By Sylvia Browne

When my father was very young, he had a great aunt who lived with his family. One day his older sister was baby-sitting him while their parents were out for the afternoon. He walked past his great aunt's room and noticed that she was packing up all her belongings. He asked her where she was going. She told him she was going to be gone for a very long time and that she loved him, and then she walked out the front door with her bag in her hand. 

As soon as his parents got home my father told them about his great aunt leaving. They apparently stared silently at each other for several moments, and then finally, a little awkwardly, my dad's mother asked, "Do you remember what she was wearing?"

My father described as best he could the dark blue high collared jacket and long skirt his great aunt was wearing when she walked out the door. There was another silence, and then my father's parents led him into the parlor, sat down with him, and told him why they were acting so oddly. They believed every word he was telling them, because they'd kept from him where they'd been so he wouldn't be upset, but they'd spent the afternoon at that same great-aunt's funeral. And the outfit my father described her wearing when she left was exactly what she was wearing in her casket.

I've talked to everyone who was there that day - my father, my grand parents, and my father's older sister - and they have identical memories of it, they assure me it hasn't been embellished or exaggerated over the years, and they each become kind of quiet and preoccupied when they talk about it. It happened, there's no doubt about that, it's just that to this day they still can't quite understand it. - E. W.

From: Visits from the Afterlife - By Sylvia Browne

Two days before my mom died, while she was on the respirator in the hospital after suffering a stroke and a heart attack, she came to me during the night. I was sitting on the couch, unable to sleep because of the stress of worrying about her, and suddenly there she was beside me. She was somewhat transparent, but I could see her clearly and I was ecstatic because she was speaking to me, even though she wasn't really using her voice. I could feel her deep love and her presence. I asked her what she wanted, and she smiled. 

She reassured me that all was well and that she would be going Home two days later. She wanted me to help my brothers with her departure, and she gave me messages for them. Ten years later she still comes to visit us from time to time, and I can feel her warmth and see her smile before she leaves. - A.L.  

LIFE ON THE OTHER SIDE - By Sylvia Browne

Whoever the messiah, there will never be an instant when their presence is not with us. Their message is simple and profound: "Especially when life seems at its most unfair and your faith is darkened by the cruelty of human doubt, even if you don't remember me at those moments, I am right beside you always, my strong hand taking yours and guiding you through."

From: LIFE ON THE OTHER SIDE

Most of the world's great religions, including Christianity until it was restructured by Pope Constantine in the sixth century, accepted the truth of reincarnation and the eternal cycles of the soul between this world and The Other Side - By: Sylvia Browne

From: Friendship with God

Have you not learned from your greatest hurts, sometimes even more than from your greatest pleasures? 

Who, then, is the villain, and who is the victim in your life?