Death by hanging.

I have a friend who thinks she died by hanging in a past life, though she has no specific memories. She described the feelings previous to this kind of death so perfectly, I have no doubts she has had the experience. Who knows, maybe it wasn’t by hanging, or maybe the circumstances surrounding that death are different from what she suspects. But I’m certain she’s been there, waiting to die, feeling how your whole world sinks, trying to accept the inevitable end, trying to control the fear, the anger, the loneliness... There are things you can only understand if you have lived through them.

I advised her to listen to a song by Arena called “Tantalus”. This song triggered me when I was just a beginner remembering past lives. Coincidentally I discovered this band by the same time, and somehow their music became my past life anthem, as they have so many lyrics to which I can relate so much. “Tantalus” is only one of them. There’s another one called “The hanging tree” that also stirs some feelings, especially if you have been hanged twice... as in my case.

I think I must have told somewhere how these two lives that ended in such a similar way, were completely different, as were the feelings associated to each of them. When I found out I had been hanged a second time, I just couldn’t believe it, for a while. But the reasons were not the same. In the second one I had hopes I would be spared, after all I was a woman, and I had managed to be declared “not guilty” before. Something went wrong this time, I didn’t understand what was happening, and of course I was convinced I didn’t deserve to die that way. In the first one, I knew I was condemning myself doing what I did. It wasn’t unexpected, but even so, the weight of the emotions during the last days is possibly stronger. As I was telling my friend, even today there are times I can’t shake off those feelings. There was guilt, but also a lot of grief and desperation. I had nothing to lose, and I was tired of fighting. I think I barely talked when they asked me to say something in my defense, as I knew it would be useless. They had already decided my condemnation, they had been after me for a long time. They only needed the final excuse. And I gave it to them. Even now, as I write these words, tears fill my eyes, still wondering what if I had made different decisions, what if I had chosen another path.

I often fantasize about how it feels to be hanged, how agonizing it must be to be deprived of the ability to breathe, until you just lose consciousness and it’s all over. I don’t have those memories. I do remember the liberation that comes after death. Sometimes it’s funny, to see how people who kill think they’re punishing you, when more often than not they are doing you a favour.

TANTALUS

Standing in water, but dying of thirst 

This is my thanks and this is my curse 

Try as I might, the fruit on the trees 

All remain beyond reach, beyond wishes 

or pleading for one last chance 

Waiting for time to pass me by 

Waiting for freedom, waiting to die

Where can I go, in a world without hope?

There is never a place 

for a soul that has broken so 

Trust in no one 

Trust in no one 

Linking the chains that weigh down your reason 

Nothing to blame, but the actions you choose 

Driven insane by the conscience of treason

Running in vein from a life of abuse 

The closer I get the further I am 

The journey I make is the course of the damned

The distance I go is no distance at all 

And I climb to the sky but find myself falling so 

Trust in no one 

Trust in no one 

Quench my thirst - Fill my heart 

Hold my hand - stay close by 

Talk to me - Don’t leave me crying here 

Standing in water, yet dying of thirst 

This is my thanks and this is my curse 

Empty forgiveness for old indiscretions 

And such condemnation for just one transgression 

Find me now - Set me free 

Find me now - Set me free 

Waiting for time to pass me by 

Waiting for freedom, waiting to die 

Why do you smile at my timeless ordeal here 

And why do you laugh at my hopeless appeal for your mercy? 

Tear away the chains - Free me now

No one else to blame - Let me go

Tear away the chains - Free me now

Driving me insane - Let me go

Tear away the chains - Free me now

No one else to blame - Let me go

Tear away the chains - Free me now

Driving me insane - Let me go  

                                                 

Drugs.

I’ve been avoiding this matter for days. After a hectic short period in my life, where I couldn’t do much past life work, apart from the book on children who remember I was writing, I have plenty of leisure time to spare again. I guess one day I’ll tell what happened with my great “premonition dream” and the “wonderful” job I got and quit, but right now I need to talk about serious stuff... really serious stuff.

I’ve talked about drugs before in this blog, but when past life scenes repeat again and again, it usually means there’s something that still needs to be processed. And this is the only place I can do it safely. Drugs are a very delicate matter, and also have a morbid component that causes attraction and revulsion at the same time. But most of all... it brings me to the darkest side of human nature, to the darkest side of... myself. Talking about it is always hard. But keeping silent doesn’t help.

June has always been a strange month for me. It’s not as tough as May, but it often makes me feel uneasy, not completely down, but unbalanced... as if I’m walking on a tight rope knowing I’m going to fall into the abyss. These words have reminded me of this Supertramp album cover that reflects so well what I mean:

Coincidence or not, the other day I was feeling weird like that. I meditated, and the images I got were very similar to what I described in that other entry I’ve mentioned above. I was in my old and dark flat in Köln, in the 60’s. Car lights shine through the window and reflect on the walls. I see the coffee table in the living room, the threadbare sofa where I sleep, rather than in the bed (actually, I think I don’t remember any bed, save the hotel beds where I took the women). I see the cigarettes and matchbox on the table. Though I don’t have a clear image, I know there are other drugs too (the flash of a spoon). I feel the anxiety, the inner rage, the hole in my heart. But I can’t understand why.

I don’t remember much of my college years, though I have the inkling my friends were some kind of extremists who loved to protest against our Government, and I even suspect we considered to take some kind of violent action at some point. I don’t know if I ever got involved in that. I only know I was very angry. And though I had a few personal problems, they were not enough to create so much anger inside me. And my only wish was to forget all that darkness, to escape the emptiness of my soul.

It wasn’t the first time I saw how I did it, but it was the first time I saw myself in front of the bathroom mirror, bare-chested, syringe in hand, ready to inject the heroin. “It’s easy”, were the words coming to my mind. Looking at yourself in the mirror is like doing it to another person, so the first times it was easier that way. There was less pain, more distance. It was easier to control the trembling of the hands. And the relief was immediate. Dreamless sleep and sweet oblivion... that was all I needed. Death was all I wanted.

I felt like shit afterwards, of course. Not because the effect of the drug (or not only because of that), but disappointed with myself, perfectly knowing I might not wake up again one of those nights... and not caring at all.

Now, looking in retrospect, I can understand. I see Katrina inside the man I was in the 60’s. I see the same desires of killing myself, of ending so much suffering. It was as if I had been in Hell before, and that Hell still attracted me strongly, like a giant magnet stealing me the will to live. Coincidence or not, my age then was very close to the age Katrina was when she died. It’s the same age I was when depression reached its maximum peak in this life. The same old patterns were repeating again.

The positive part of all this is somehow I decided “No more” and left all that darkness behind, to make something good of my days and become a real man who fought for freedom and justice. I still wonder how I made it, but I guess this proves light and darkness always go hand in hand.