Past life songs (4): On the edge of despair.

The Nobel Prize of Literature 2016 has been awarded to Bob Dylan. I am laughing so hard at all these “serious writers” who are complaining about it, not because I am a fan of Bob Dylan, I have never been, but because there is so much pedantry among writers that they deserve just for once to be ignored. In my opinion, there are a lot of songwriters (and many of them are heavy rock musicians) who can transmit in a few words emotions that not even García Márquez in his A hundred years of boredom, as I use to call it, can do in hundreds of pages.

“On the edge of despair” is one of these songs. I have said before that this rock band, Arena, seems to be linked to my past lives. I have to confess that I have been always been attracted to Clive Nolan, the main “culprit” of those songs in my music collection that I would play over and over again, including in my funeral. And I swear it is not because of his blonde, long hair (despite that, I can’t say he is too attractive, though I think it would be quite interesting to talk to him about a few things). Before Arena, I knew him for being the keyboardist in Pendragon, and so I had seen him a few times live in concert. I also knew he was an amateur writer, and in one of those concerts I was about to approach him and tell him: “Hey, you’re really awesome, your music and lyrics are so inspiring, I am a writer too and your songs are always present in my stories”. I told him nothing in the end while he was signing my ticket, but to say “I was about to” is already a lot for me. Usually I don’t even talk to strangers or people I have just met.

I don’t know if Clive Nolan believes in reincarnation, though you could say so reading many of his lyrics, especially those that deal with death and the afterlife. Of course, I don’t think he is in any way connected to me or any of my past lives, but I just have to wonder when he describes certain scenes so similar to my actual memories. I don’t know if I ever mentioned here that right after I died as Katrina, I had a memory where the soldier who had killed me took me in his arms, just a tiny woman, a wretched thing that couldn’t bear more suffering. Well, “On the edge of despair” is only a small part of a short story written by Clive for the Arena album called “Contagion”. In this story, a man with certain psychic abilities comes down to Earth and in his struggle to save mankind from an evil he unleashed, encounters a little girl who bears the same tattoo in her hand. She seems fragile but she is an old soul, with a rare strength and inner knowledge. She is his hope for the future. She is about to die, and for some time, thinking he won’t be able to save her, he is on the edge of despair.

I can’t begin to say all the parallelisms I find in this song in relation to Katrina. The first time I listened to it, I wasn’t reading the lyrics, but I caught the words: Too young and unprepared for such distress, and tears welled instantly in my eyes. That was such an accurate description of my life in WWII. When I had the chance to read them all, the meaning in them went even deeper. The blood in the first verse, I can say it is metaphoric in my case, as I didn’t lie with blood on my face. But I can indeed say there was blood all over the place. It was a war after all, and I had seen pools of blood in the streets. It is also true no one seemed to care if I live or die. I was always quiet, a stranger among Germans who had been drafted in an occupied city. Johann had been my only friend, but he was dead. If something, Katrina was always so alone, so utterly alone. She fought all she could, with all her innocence and all her youth. She never did wrong, but evil men hurt her. The song seems to carry a message for my current self, when I’m sunk in depression: Don't let this life decay to misery and hate / Don't throw it away (again) -- don't leave it too late (but don’t die too old). I have always thought I should not kill myself again... but I don’t want to die of old age either.

When I imagine this man (this soldier) taking me in his arms, somehow it is comforting: thinking there is someone who did care, even though he wasn’t capable to do anything for me. I strongly suspect one of the soldiers who knew of those sad events reincarnated in one of my schoolmates in my current life. I still dream of him sometimes. I am sure he liked me but never dared to approach me, there was a guilty look in his eyes, mixed with certain sadness. I know he at least cared in my previous life but couldn’t defend me, or he would have put his position, even his life, in danger. I don’t think he was the same soldier that killed me, but still, it feels as if certain silent and regretful gazes can speak worlds and connect souls through time and space.

There is another verse that needs no explanation: it clearly refers to reincarnation (at least from my point of view):

There will be a time and place
You'll be sure to find me there
Praying that I won't be too late
To take you from the edge of despair

Sometimes it seems like it, but we are never alone. There is always someone watching over us.

 

ON THE EDGE OF DESPAIR

Lying there - With spiders in your hair
No one seems to care if you survive
Blood on your face - All over the place
No one seems to care if you live or you die

We're the same you know
Putting up walls and dodging the stones
We're the same you know
Walking in the crowd, but living alone
Don't let this life decay to misery and hate
Don't throw it away -- don't leave it too late

Lying there - On the edge of despair
This is where I should have been
Black and blue - All battered and bruised
This is where I should have been

Lying there - With death in the air
Too young and unprepared for such distress
Hanging on - But not for too long
Too young and unprepared for such distress

We're the same you know
Putting up walls and dodging the stones
We're the same you know
Walking in the crowd, but living alone
Don't let this life decay to misery and hate
Don't throw it away -- don't leave it too late

There will be a time and place
You'll be sure to find me there
Praying that I won't be too late
To take you from the edge of despair

We're the same you know
Putting up walls and dodging the stones
We're the same you know
Walking in the crowd, but living alone
Don't let this life decay to misery and hate
Don't throw it away -- don't leave it too late  

The day I died.

It is 23:14 when I start writing this and tomorrow I have to get up early for a five hours drive. It is not the best moment to be doing this, but I don’t want these past life emotions to fade and get lost in my mind while I enjoy my second holiday season.

Every time Katrina calls for my attention, I want to think there is a reason. The same scenes often repeat themselves, sometimes exactly as they were, other times expanded. The hurting keeps being there, and I feel compelled to do something, but what?  

I ask her what she wants, and the answer is: “I want to find his grave, I want to have a place to mourn, I want to know he’s remembered, I just want to cry”. Some of these things I can do, like crying. But others, I just don’t seem to find my way. I have some specific data that came with my memories, but either they are wrong, or I am not looking in the right places, because they never match the records.
 

And in the meanwhile I keep reliving these memories as if they were reoccurring nightmares. The day my worst fear became real is one of them: losing Johann to the war. The day he died, I died with him. My soul died. My body kept living for a while, but I wasn’t there anymore. As I have said so many times before, I was paralyzed. I still can see everything: how I heard his name and dropped whatever I had in my hands, how I ran and fought to get to him, how I found him already dead on the stretcher, how I was grabbed and pulled away. I did shout then, and cried. So much that they had to restrain me and put me a catheter on my jugular vein to administer a sedative. Everything went black.

And when I woke up, I was dead. The first thing I did was taking my Virgin medal off and leaving it on the bedside table, forgotten. I had lost my faith. I realized I was wearing a clear blue gown and a teardrop fell and wet the cloth. Someone asked me if I wanted something to eat, I said no. When I regained some of my strength I went to see the doctor, to ask him if he’d let me see Johann one last time. He did, but I couldn’t move. Johann’s body was there wrapped in one of those hideous cases to keep corpses, but I barely could do something, with a nurse at my left and the doctor at my right, watching that I didn’t go mad again. And I couldn’t touch him, not even hold his hand, not even whisper some words in his ears.

I couldn’t accept it. It still feels like a dream today. Only, dreams are not so damn real.

Maybe I can’t find his grave (yet), but I was getting clear visual impressions of his face. So I used an online identikit program to try and draw him. The result was impressive. Not completely accurate, I’d say, but impressive nonetheless.

I died the day he died, with no time to mourn. Maybe this is the first step to do so. 

Memories of the afterlife.

I don’t have many, probably because every time I get anything remotely similar to a memory of the afterlife, I have enormous doubts. I think I lose concentration thinking it must be a mere fantasy, my logical mind starts to interfere, and at the end I haven’t gained much new. Clearly I’m not like all those enlightened people who find out all their lessons, all their soulmates in their current life and their spiritual purpose in a single regression.

Nonetheless, I do have brief scenes in my mind and a couple of insights that seem to come from a “higher” part of me that I barely understand. In that state, in the few occasions I feel I’ve been there, I see things in a completely different way, it’s like you really are a different being... yes, not even a different “person”, as now you are not human. It’s hard to describe, and at least for me, hard to comprehend.

Since it’s hard for me to believe and it usually sounds too “spiritual”, I do not usually talk about these memories, but earlier today I said to myself, “Well, why not?” To do it, I’ve chosen the term “afterlife” because I think it’s better than “the time between lives” as I usually say, and of course much better than the “academic” term invented by certain researchers: “the intermission”. This, in my opinion, doesn’t say anything different to an interval of time, no matter if you’re waiting for the bus or going to the bathroom for a piss before the second part of your favorite series begins. It sounds like the only thing you can do during that time is hovering in the sky looking for a body to reincarnate. It sounds so superficial.

Michael Newton had already coined the expression “life-between-lives” (with LBL being the abbreviation) but these researchers have completely ignored him, as they may think they’re the wisest among reincarnation researchers and they’re great putting names to things that already existed. For my part, I’ve decided to use “afterlife” because it’s a wider term. It doesn’t imply you have to reincarnate, you may choose this option or not. Through my experience I’ve also come to differentiate several states of consciousness in the afterlife, a point that inexplicably most researchers miss (not Michael Newton, by the way). I just can’t see why it is so difficult to understand that ghosts are one thing and spirits in the “spiritual world” (for lack of a better term) are another. If you call all these different states of consciousness by the same general definition of “intermission”, the only thing you’re doing, as usual for “academic” researchers, is to mess up things and bring confusion.

[Note: the reason I put the word “academic” between quotation marks is because I feel that’s intended to mean they are the “serious” researchers, that is, the only ones that can be trusted. I’ve found that’s very far from the truth, so I’ve decided I’ll never use that word without quotation marks, implying they don’t deserve the respect they want for themselves].

Well, I’ll stop rambling now and tell what I meant to tell from the beginning.

Tow nights ago something strange happened to me. As I mentioned in my latest entry, I suffered a severe fall while I was skating on Maundy Thursday. I am still recovering and I need to do rehabilitation exercises to regain the mobility of my left shoulder. It aches... a lot. And though this is not something new in my life, I’ve been reflecting about how we miss things only after we’ve lost them. Those words from a Marillion song always come back to me: “You never miss it till it’s gone”. I don’t know if this was the reason, but when I was left in the sofa quiet and in the dark, I breathed deeply and all of a sudden I was overwhelmed by deep feelings of sadness and depression. It was Katrina again. It was as if a past life review passed before my eyes. I saw the main scenes like quick flashbacks: the fear in the field hospital, the German officer who scared me, the church and the sound of the airplanes above, the loss of my boyfriend, the pistol in my hand, the desperation, the flash from the machine gun in the darkest of nights, the blood staining my clothes. I wanted it so much to be over. I know how much I’m fighting now, despite the physical pain, because I want to swim again in the summer. I know how much I want to live. I knew I didn’t want any of that when I forced the soldier to kill me. I had no more hope nor strength to survive.

But then it seemed the scene went on. I was curious because I’ve never had memories of what happened right after I died as Katrina. I only knew my life ended there in the blink of an eye, as I was lying in the middle of the dark street. I had the impression I was looking from the outside now. I saw the soldier lifting me in his arms like a broken doll, so tiny and shrunken, in fetal position. And then everything started to fade. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I was doubting as always. “I want to go further, but aren’t I imagining it all?”

What happened next? Did the depression state I was in send me to a temporary hell with other depressive souls in the lower astral planes? Who knows, but certainly that’s not what I saw. I tried to forget about my negative thoughts and just go deeper into the trance. Then I felt as if I was waking up. I was also in a fetal position, but everything was light around me, a bright and dark yellow light. I was also light, it seems. I was “bigger” now, but lighter, ethereal, almost transparent... I was going to say immaterial, but I don't think this is exact, as I was somehow corporeal. I still felt "feminine", something I consider strange, as I think I have more masculine traits. I still could feel some of Katrina’s sadness and depression, but it was as if those emotions were just impregnating me, adhering to my being like some kind of dirtiness I hadn’t washed away yet. I no longer felt I was Katrina. Katrina was just a thin layer of skin I had left behind, like snakes do when they molt.

I’m not sure if there was someone else there helping me reflect and understand, but I do know I was wondering what Katrina’s life had meant. I’ve had the same thought in other occasions, and here it came back again: “To experience the absence of love”. There wasn’t love in Katrina’s life. There was no one who cared, except her boyfriend, taken away by war. I wasn’t surprised of the outcome: suicide was one of the likeliest options, and probably not the worst. I wasn’t concerned about that in the slightest. It was as if I was just evaluating my decisions and thinking: “Well, that was to be expected, given the circumstances”.

Basically, that was all. I went to bed still feeling emotional, but not giving too much weight to those memories that probably are imagination. But the truth is that at the following morning they were still clear and strong in my mind. They indeed have the “texture” typical of past life memories. They’re weird, different, hard to describe, as it’s not a physical world as we know it, you’re not even “you”. But they feel just as real. I just can’t know if they’re fantasy as I don’t have a way to verify it. I only have my intuition to judge. And it’s long since my intuition tells me we are so much more than flesh and bone, so much more than we can't even imagine. 

Christmas again.

Wow... it is over a year and a half since I started to write this blog. And the Festive Season has come again, bringing all those old feelings of sadness and depression. These days are also being weird, but completely different than last year.

During the two last weeks I have come to feel exhausted, mentally exhausted. The life of a reincarnationist like me is quite tough as I was saying in my previous entries. I have been talking about suicide, discussing my theory on time and simultaneous lives with other people, answering questions of newbies almost every day, writing privately to those who didn’t find honesty elsewhere, arguing with people who put more value on old channeled information and NDE’s than people with verified past life memories... and finally, realizing all this stress is not doing any good to my mental health. The migraines started to be more frequent and intense, and I had to take a break.

While I am working so hard reading and writing, I forget about emotions simmering in my inside. I am beginning to think it is no more than a way to block past life mood. Katrina’s past life plays an important part in those emotions, as much as present life events that frustrate me and anger me. I hardly can quiet my mind, and when I do I don’t get clear memories, just a whirlwind of flashes and dark feelings that take me back to WWII. I can see myself as Katrina looking at the mirror, face so pale and young, and eyes so big but so lifeless. Hearing people pondering whether it was suicide or not feels kind of weird... as if I didn’t know what I was feeling and the intentions I had in mind. And then trying to convince someone that the notion of living lives simultaneously, implying you can change your past at any moment and so change your present, is preposterous, to say the least, just leaves me even more depressed and saddened. I should have learned by now that you can only talk about past lives with people who remember past lives. At least I am lucky enough to find also gentle and caring people who turn up just to say “Hey, I understand you”, help with the research and bring some calm to my restless soul.  

Last night I was trying to meditate and I was feeling like so many times before: past life emotions become so present. I can feel Katrina at the bottom of this dark pit, where she had fallen and couldn’t get out. And God knows I tried. I tried to climb, I called for help, I looked up at that bright little white circle at the top, getting ever smaller as my desperation grew, reaching for salvation, but no one came. And I couldn’t get out. All the fighting was useless, and that is what keeps affecting me today, what causes the anxiety and the lingering (though controlled) thoughts of self-destruction.

As I usually do with my other past life selves, I asked her what she wanted, what she needed, why her pain is so alive today, 73 years later. As always, I knew I just wanted a place to mourn... not for me, but for Johann. I didn’t have the time to do it. I don’t know where he was taken. I only can see his corpse wrapped in one of those filthy sacks or wherever they put the corpses. I wish I could have cried my eyes out as I was standing in front of the stretcher, after asking permission to do so, but there were people close, watching even then. It still feels so unreal. It seems I just can’t move on from that point. I recalled other past lives where I lost many of my loved ones: tombs where my wife and babe were buried, rag dolls I made with my own hands to remember my relatives, peaceful but unwanted partings... All were quite painful too, but they don’t bother me so much now, maybe because I could mourn for the people I had lost? I couldn’t do it properly in the case of Johann, I didn’t live long enough. Is that the reason my main desire is to find Johann’s grave, not mine? What would you want to do, Katrina?

And the answer always is: to say goodbye. Just that. And until the day I can do it, the stages of mourning will haunt me endlessly: denial, anger, bargaining, depression... and all over again. 

Related entries:

Christmas time.

   

More on suicide...

It seems I just can’t stop now that I have started. I think it’s because I feel there are many things that need to be said. I can’t remain silent.

This morning I posted this (with some minor modifications) in one of the forums I frequent:

The recent deleted conversation about suicide in the forum Child Past Lives, and most likely, the time of the year, seem to have triggered some memories/feelings in me related to my last days on Earth during my WWII life.

I barely remember what I have written before in regards to the cause of my suicide, but I think the answers are always the same: I had lost everything, I was utterly alone and I didn't want to live anymore. Is that so hard to understand?

First of all, was it a suicide or not? I've always wondered about this question myself, to be honest, and I've always come to the conclusion it was, no matter who pulled the trigger. Like I told one of the forum members in response to his comment, I'd call it "assisted suicide", but a suicide nonetheless, only the soldier didn't know he was doing me a favor. But no, I know what I did. As someone else said, intent matters... yes, of course it matters.

I also wonder about the resistance and the fear people in general have to talk about suicide. I've observed this fear is more common among people who don't have clear and verified memories of past lives and what happens after death. I guess the reason is they are still afraid of death, and so they are still afraid of living and letting everyone make their choices. Right or wrong, you just can't learn if you don't act. And we all are responsible of our actions and decisions, and of course of the consequences. Death is bad... yes, especially for those staying alive. For dead people, it's just rest and peace. But for some reason they all want us to keep suffering in the afterlife, being judged by "the Elders" or thrown to the darkest pits of the astral (commonly known as Hell).

Well, it seems there are many reasons to commit suicide. I don't know of others, but I think my suicide would fit in the category of "act of rebellion". My WWII life was mainly a life where I couldn't control anything. My mum didn't give a damn about me or my feelings. When my grandparents died she sent me to work as a maid and live with that German man (possibly my father who cared even less about me). Yesterday, when I had memories of being awake in the dark, unable to sleep, thinking where I'd like to go back, the only place that came to mind was my uncle's home. There I had some cousins and was really a home. But I couldn't find out what had become of them after the German occupation. Possibly I hadn't had news of them for years, so I had no place to go back. Anyway, I couldn't go back. I was alone in France with the German Army. My only option was to keep working as a nurse until win or lose.

I was sinking deeper and deeper in my depression, that's sure. Though this keeps being a hunch, I'm pretty sure I died around this time of the year, one of the reasons being Christmas was approaching and I didn't want to spend Christmas without my German boyfriend. But apart from that there was this rage inside me, this desire to stop doing what "they" wanted of me. I wrote this in my journal yesterday, right after the meditation:

"In that life, suicide was the only thing in which I had some power of decision, it seems. This is shit, I don't want to live this. I don't want to fight in this crappy war, I don't want you to decide for me what I have to do with my life. I don't want to meet the only man who showed some interest in me and lose him. Go everyone to Hell".

I think that "everyone" includes living people and also spiritual guides or whoever sent me to live that life.

And so, I quit.

I've stopped wondering what would have happened if I hadn't quit. People are quick to say other people there are always better options, as if they know the future. You see, I quit and probably spared myself lots of suffering. Though it's great to imagine myself as a lovely war veteran lady, it's likely I would have ended up raped by allied soldiers after D-Day and then killed or imprisoned. And then I was reborn as a German boy who loved to play with wooden airplanes. So, was it a right or wrong decision?

Thoughts keep coming. After a tough night (a real bitter watch, until I got asleep), I was surprised when my current partner arrived and told me I looked happy. Maybe a weight is being lifted after all, with all this past life work I’ve done in the last few years. I’ve never felt especially guilty for committing suicide in my WWII life, though I did wonder for a while how I could have done “something like that”. But I soon realized it’s not a crime, a sin, or anything that must be punished. It just happens. Sometimes you decide to do things you are not proud of, that can lead to a variety of consequences. Suicide is one of these things. But it’s not better or worse than other choices, because, every reincarnationist should know, death doesn’t exist. Death is not bad in itself. So, if I decide to kill myself, I’m not going against “any law” or whatever you want to invent to make me feel guilty. It’s my life. It was my choice to come. It’s my choice to leave. That’s all.

After that thread was deleted there was some talking about the convenience of saying publicly things like these I write in my blog. Couldn’t we be influencing another person’s decision and incline them towards suicide, in case they’re on the verge of doing it and we tell them nothing happens? Instead of this, I was thinking of those parents and relatives who unfortunately have a suicide victim in their family and are marked forever, as the rest of society think that’s a disgrace and the victim a sinner. The dead is dead, I doubt anything can affect them any longer. Those who still live not only have to endure the pain of the loss of a loved one in those circumstances, but also the ignorance of the people who judge.  

I speak mainly for them. For the living. I have no fear of speaking the Truth.

REST PEACEFULLY, BECAUSE A SUICIDE IS JUST A NORMAL DEATH.

NOTHING HAPPENS TO PEOPLE WHO COMMIT SUICIDE.

THERE WILL BE UNRESOLVED ISSUES, BUT THAT IS COMMON IN ALL TRAUMATIC DEATHS.

I can say it louder, but not clearer.

"Nothing happens" also means "nothing will change". Your issues won't disappear killing yourself.

And no, I don't encourage anyone to commit suicide. If you're thinking about it, SEEK HELP. Probably you will be luckier than me and will find it.

What happens to people who commit suicide?

[I rarely do this, to translate almost literally something I wrote for my Spanish blog, but I think the occasion deserves this treatment. Suicide is a matter that concerns everyone, and from what I have seen, only in a few places (the main one being Military Past Lives) you can talk about it without wasting your time and effort.

Original entry: ¿Qué pasa con los suicidas?]

A recent conversation in another forum (Child Past Lives) about suicide has made me reflect about this subject again, though I also suspect it’s a time of anniversaries and so this triggers certain inner feelings of rage and sadness I can’t avoid. On the other hand, the truth is I’m feeling a bit frustrated again. Besides my own publications and the book I have written (which is more than a little), I not only don’t see any serious advancement in regards to reincarnation (with the exception of some new forum members who do advance, a lot, at a personal level, which makes me proud and glad at the same time), I even notice a bit of a setback. Or at least that’s the impression I get when I watch certain lectures in certain “spiritual” conventions attended by people that are still very lost.

But, well, I’d better go back to my writing, and today it’s about suicide. I don’t know why this subject is so controversial, even among reincarnationists themselves. Well, I do know: because most of the time reincarnationists also base on their own beliefs instead of first-person experiences. Not all of those who remember past lives remember they committed suicide, and so it seems they treat us, “ex-suicide victims” or those who for some reason wonder about suicide, the same way they treat other people whom they consider they have to commiserate, like all of those who have been “very, very evil”, and then they wish you don’t suffer too much in this life, as undoubtedly they believe you’re going to suffer a lot as a consequence of having been very evil... In that conversation I mentioned above, someone said suicide could be a form of self-punishment for taking someone else’s life and they invited us to guess why Judas Iscariot committed suicide. I almost faint due to the nonsense of these words, thank goodness there are few things that surprise me at this point.

There is also another reason why in general talking about suicide is avoided, besides the fact that rummaging in the wound of those who lost the suicide victim implies to stir a very deep pain and nobody wants to do that. That reason is that if you say nothing happens when you kill yourself, it seems you’re promoting or glorifying suicide, and you’re encouraging everyone to do it. Well, I want to make myself clear I don’t promote or glorify suicide, nor do I encourage anyone to do it. Had I not done it in the past, perhaps I would have known facets of myself that remain hidden nowadays. Or perhaps I would have become a lovely old woman and today I would be telling my great-grandchildren what living through the Second World War meant. Possibly I could have made better decisions... or maybe not. We will never know that, as once we make a decision, we can’t go back and we have to bear the consequences (and, no, this does NOT mean karma exists). So, if I don’t know what would have become of me in my case, how could I know in the case of other people? The circumstances surrounding a suicide are always very different and no one has the right to judge. The important thing here is, whatever you do, it is your decision. You are responsible, and you will realize for yourself if what you did was right, cowardice, a desperate call for attention, a stupidity for abusing drugs or a direct consequence of the depression you were going through.

Anyway, I’m going to say it loud and clear, as is my style:

FOR COMMITTING SUICIDE NOTHING HAPPENS. 

ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

This is to say:

No one is going to punish you in the afterlife.

You’re not going to Hell.

You’re not going to be forced to wander in the astral until all the time you had determined to live before incarnating has passed. (This doesn’t mean you’re not going to be a bit confused, in some cases, but this also happens to those who die by natural causes).

You’re not going to “repeat stories” until you learn whatever you came here to learn.

You don’t “break contracts” with anyone, among other things, because I doubt very much there are “binding contracts” in the spiritual world, though many want to sell us so many “soul plans”, “soul contracts” and many other unproved tales. Just an example: someone in that conversation said that in Robert Schwartz’s book Your Soul’s Plan it is said the actions of a person can influence the DNA and be passed down to their offspring. Fortunately this person doubted this was true, as anyone with a minimal knowledge of genetics (and especially if they remember past lives) knows that claiming this is a barbarity, even taking epigenetics into account, something that is starting to be mentioned quite frequently, but only a few really know how it works. Another person said, mainly based on the Michael Newton’s books he had read, that “the soul who committed suicide merely jumps back into another, similar life as soon as possible if not immediately”.  

Well, this is not what happened to me. I remember many lives very close together, but it has nothing to do with the manner in which I died. And after committing suicide in WWII, I reincarnated in West Germany, where I had a quite well-to-do life in which I was an industrial engineer and then I worked for the American Army. It wasn’t a similar life, in any way, to my former life. But I am not an exception. I also know many other people who also committed suicide in past lives, and you know what? None of them has had to repeat stories, nor have they been lost in the astral, nor do they know anything about contracts they made with other souls. Furthermore, currently they all are as happy as a lark. Even if there was something planned, we all have free will. If we wish, we ignore the plan, and that’s all. You can say this is not too considerate or sportsmanlike, that’s true, but if that’s our decision, nothing happens. The others will have to adapt to the changes and improvise. But no one said you will have to pay a price for coming back home before it was due, whatever the reason might be.

Now, will your loved ones suffer? Of course they will. The same way they would suffer if you had died for any other reason. So you will have to evaluate if making your loved ones suffer is worth. But in each case we would have to see who is more selfish, the one leaving because they don’t want to live anymore, or the one that forces someone who is suffering to stay because they don’t want to suffer. Are you going to resolve your problems killing yourself? Of course not. That is not a way to solve anything, it’s as if you quit an exam or leave your team in the middle of a match. You won’t feel great after killing yourself either, that’s true, especially if you killed yourself because you were suffering. Unresolved emotions will accompany you in the next life, and you will have to keep dealing with them. But that doesn’t happen only with suicide, it also happens with many other decisions you made that didn’t turn out as you expected. Sometimes we make mistakes and repent, but luckily we always have new opportunities to act accordingly to the way we consider more correct. Yes, things sometimes are complicated. But no one said living was going to be easy, didn’t they?

I was going to put the link to the thread I was speaking of, but I’ve just discovered it was deleted, so you see I was right when I said this is a controversial subject, and this when it was being very civilized and interesting. I can assure you that doesn’t happen in my own forum, where I like to go to the bottom of things and speak with rotundity.

More information:

Suicide (The Great Escape).

ADDITIONAL COMMENTARY (18-11-2015).

The truth is it’s very hard for me to understand why people find it so difficult to speak openly about such serious and important matters as this. I’ve been very disappointed this thread was deleted, many interesting things were being said and I didn’t feel it was going to turn problematic in any moment. However, I keep seeing it in the lectures I mentioned above. You go to a convention where they talk about life after death (in Spain) and the lecturer refuses to talk about reincarnation or suicide (some for fear of the Church’s reaction, at this point). It’s logical if you know nothing about it, but some reincarnationists do know, no matter who may disagree. It is not a belief, I’m not speaking of spiritualist doctrines that are no more than a religion. We’re speaking of experiences and facts, sometimes even with verified memories, and of very well known people of whom I can say anything out of respect for their anonymity. How much longer will silence prevail? How much longer this secrecy? How much longer the confusion and the eternal doubts? When will we become really free?

Is this blog useful?

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