Everything is fine.

When memories become too tough and I feel like I can’t bear it anymore, I often get a message from my guide telling me not to worry, everything is fine. Usually it comes with a sense of infinite love and peace in my heart that brings back all the serenity bad emotions threatened to break. It’s like a storm that finally comes to an end.

Earlier today, while I was reading an exceptional NDE account, I was reminded of this undisputable truth, though I can understand it’s not easy to believe for most people. We just don’t understand the purpose of so much suffering in this world. All the people dying, the lack of wisdom and harmony, the infinite cruelty of human beings, disgraces, natural disasters, children starving... everyone asking “If there is a God, where is He? How can He allow this to happen?”

But in the middle of the turmoil, in the middle of my tears, when I’m sobbing uncontrollably due to events from a distant past that still affect me, I always hear my guide’s voice: 

“It’s all right, hush! Enough crying. Everything’s fine!”

We are made to feel emotions, but we are not our emotions. There was something I read in that NDE account to which I can relate so much: when you are out of your body you feel a complete detachment. You can feel a bit sad, but surprisingly you don’t feel anything for your own body, you don’t care too much about the ones you are leaving behind. Somehow you know death is not the end and everything is fine. We are so much more than flesh and bones, we are so much more than someone physical bound to become dust again. Does it matter if you live more or less years in a mortal body, when your soul is immortal?

Well, I was wondering why Johann’s death affects me so much today, now that I know we’re immortal, now that I’ve come to the conclusion reincarnation is a fact and we all have lived many times and we’ll live a lot more. My guide replied to me: “That’s what YOU know, but Katrina didn’t. Katrina lost all she had. She didn’t deal with her feelings back then, and so you must deal with them now”.

And the crying goes on. It will as long as there’s pain inside of me. And anger. And desires to shout. What happens when you block a torrent with a dam, when you cut a life short before the feelings were worked through? You die and get rid of your emotions when you shed your astral body. Death is like a soothing ointment. It relieves the pain, it brings oblivion, peace... for a while. Maybe death is like a drug. But as soon as you have a new body, the energy nets that weren’t totally repaired rekindle those past emotions, and life goes on... Is there a reason for this, or is it just how it works? My position is clear. It’s just a natural process.

And whatever happens, everything is fine. After all, we are love. We are. For eternity.

IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS

Life is like a tall ship

Drifting gently from the shore

Time is like a fair wind

With a lifetime to explore

The beauty that surrounds you

Was meant to be adored

The problems that surround you

Were meant to be ignored

We are love, we are, we are love

We are love, we are, we are love

I dreamt I held a baby

I dreamt I held a child

I dreamt I held a young man

A prisoner in my hand

My hand I could not open

The man grew up inside

A prisoner without reason

Just on the other side

We are love, we are, we are love

We are love, we are, we are love

The blood red rose of summer

Grows elegant and tall

In memory of the green grass

Beyond the guardian wall

The green grass grows forever

Beneath the bloody sky

In memory of the martyrs

She'll cover when they die

We are love, we are, we are love

We are love, we are, we are love

August again...

I wish I could do something to prevent this from happening. I wish I could control it somehow. But it seems I just can’t. I didn’t start this month feeling too well, but it wasn’t too bad either. WWII was far from my mind. I should already know that you can’t forget your past lives. When everything seems peaceful and is going smoothly, they strike again.

It was quite unexpected. I was dozing off on the sofa, tired after a weekend with lack of sleep and loud music until 3 a.m., four nights in a row, due to local celebrations. Suddenly, I noticed the heavy weight on my heart again, the desire to cry, the feelings of loss and emptiness, the fear and the anxiety. Then I got some blurred flashes of what looked like a bombing in a building with high ceilings, maybe a church, though I am not sure. There was dust in the air, making me cough. I crouched, frightened, among the rubble, the stones. I tried to move them but my fingers ached. I only wanted to go out.

A bit later I saw myself lighting up some candles with a stick, in a church. No idea if it could have been the same church.

I felt it was 1942, before Johann’s death, but not too long before. I think I was still hoping to see him again, hoping he would have the comfort I needed so much, to cope with the sad events that had happened to me of late. I had tried to tell him in my letters, but I didn’t want him to be concerned about me. He was fighting in the front, he didn’t need distractions. I didn’t know I would never see him alive again.

Since then, I feel like there’s a stone slab on my shoulders. No images, no memories, come to me through meditation, but I only need to think a bit about it and my eyes fill with tears. It’s like I am still losing him, losing it all: my hopes, my strength, my sanity, my will to live... my life. Once more, I feel like I am paralyzed in that beach, with so much rage inside of me, so much pain, but unable to utter a word.

Katrina keeps crying silently, through me. She doesn’t understand the world she’s living in. She doesn’t know what to do to stop so much suffering. She still breathes, but she died the day Johann died. 

Hopeless.

I have started this month of August feeling a bit weird. I have come to suspect that every time I feel trapped in my present, without hopes of doing what I really want to do in the job scenario, and slowly sinking in a depression I don’t want, I start to get in a past life mood from my Black Widow life. It wouldn’t be too bad if it was just me and myself, my thoughts, fantasies, emotions and dreams. I could spend a few days lost in my own world, barely talking and pretending I’m interested in some TV show or movie while I stare at the screen, lost in some old scenes coming from my mind and not from the TV set. Then I would decide it’s enough and I would be back in the real world, as if nothing had happened. But it’s not that easy when those past life emotions affect your relationship with your partner, who doesn’t understand why all of a sudden you don’t want to go out or don’t care about the plans for the weekend.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, I’m just imagining myself in an old bathtub thinking how to slit my wrists, as I got married and this is not what I thought it would be”.

And if he demands some attention it’s even worse, as then he makes me feel as an enslaved wife whose only duty is to make him happy... and that triggers me even more. I go to bed thinking the slight discomfort in my right eye could be due to a reflection of my past life when I got it black. As I fall asleep I can only see the white gown I was wearing in my wedding night. I can still feel the fear of a maiden, the bitterness of a young girl who liked a different suitor, my heart pierced with his first threats. And it seems all this is because the prospect of being “just a wife” for the rest of my life brings me the same feeling of hopelessness, a dark sense of foreboding that tells me “This can’t go right. Don’t let it happen again. Just run!”

Well, it looks like I can’t choose. No matter how much I try, for now my plans are always unattainable. I don’t know whether I dream too much or my wits are not enough to make those dreams come true. Maybe the Universe is punishing me for being evil with my past life husband. In this case I wonder how the Universe is punishing him for being a son of a bitch with me. No need to say I don’t believe in any of these possibilities. Or maybe I chose a crappy country and a crappy profession to ensure I would remain unemployed for half of my life, so that I learn to be imprisoned in my own home and feel happy for being a great cook. Is that something worth learning? No need to say I don’t believe that’s the point. Whatever it is though, the Universe can’t prevent me from wanting to escape through a window again.

It’s hard to come back to reality and remember things are different today: my partner is not a monster and I’m not a victim of female roles or a sexist society. It’s hard to remember I just find myself in certain circumstances and it’s my decision to deal with them one way or the other. Sometimes it feels right to have the wisdom of several past lives on my shoulders. But other times I just feel tempted to follow the same path of self-destruction. When I've become tired of what the world can offer me, does it matter if I decide to get off, even if it's just for a little while?