The last time I saw my wife alive was on the cattle car after we were forced to leave the Warsaw Ghetto. I was with my children a few hours longer. My last image of them was as they walked away from me toward the gas chambers at the Treblinka extermination camp.
Yet here I am with them now. Another life for each of us. We are in different bodies, living with our new families, but somehow we have managed to find each other again. From four corners of the world something brought us together in this place and this time. My heart weeps in sorrow at the remembrance of our separation but now there is also joy. Brilliant, bright, light-filled joy. The something that brought us back together was LOVE.
Excruciating pain in my left upper arm woke me from a restless sleep. Even with my eyes wide open, I was disoriented by my surroundings and part of me thought I was still dreaming. Images which had been clear when I first awoke, were quickly released. I was left with an intangible feeling of great despair. A vague sense of lots of noise and commotion and pain. But now I was fully awake and the rest of the dream floated away. Only the pain in my arm remained.
Even though I was in a hurry, my senses came alive as I navigated through the meandering paths at Omega Institute. My skin tingled in the crisp Fall air and leaves crinkled beneath my feet. I quickened my pace. It was the fourth day of my past life regression training and fellow students waited for me in the dining hall before class. Blue was seated at a table with a few people. A short while later he noticed that I was not using my left arm and asked me if I had injured it. My self Reiki hadn’t lessened the pain and I didn’t know what was wrong. A mystery ailment had followed me from dreamland. He offered to help me with Reiki but after the energy work, the pain persisted.
After the completion of our last full day at the workshop, Chloris, Blue, Asli and I gathered at one of our rooms in the early evening. We were all excited to attempt a group regression and I described what I had seen during my meditation. There would be no facilitator to guide us so this was going to be an unusual experience. We would each rely on what we had learned over the past week and utilize self hypnosis to guide ourselves into a relaxed and open state.
Asli and Chloris were positioned next to each other on the bed, head to foot in opposite directions. They held hands loosely to allow the energy to flow between them. I was seated on the floor with my hands to the side of Asli’s head, offering Reiki, while Blue was seated on the other side of the bed with his hands beside Chloris doing the same thing. All of us felt an extremely strong flow of energy almost immediately. We played music from the CD, Higher Ground by Steven Halpern and put the player on repeat. Dr. Weiss had played this same music for every regression that we had experienced over the past four days. We knew the plan and shared the same intent. With only the light from candles, the room felt full of an impalpable “something”. We all closed our eyes and the energy expanded around us.
I found myself in lush green grass. I knew I was a little boy, perhaps around nine years old. I looked down and saw my worn brown leather shoes. I immediately began to look for the others but couldn’t see or hear them anywhere. The breeze shifted and I could smell the ocean. The waves seemed to sing as they crashed on the shore. A low stone wall ran over and around a hilly and very green countryside. I saw moors and lots of water. Stunningly beautiful. My chest opened up. I felt joyous and free. And then I heard the laughter of children. They played down on the beach a good distance away from where I stood. I couldn’t get to them. Two boys (Asli and Blue) and Chloris, the only girl. They looked to be about my age. Each of them was surrounded by Light. I looked down at my hand and saw Light as it streamed from my fingers. It moved through me. And there was also a big bubble of Light around everything which flowed down from the sky.
Achill Island, Ireland – image by Stefano Viola
And then suddenly, I am somewhere else. I feel panicked and anxious. My heart races and I hear it as it pounds in my ears. I see a woman, rather plain and nondescript. She doesn’t have much of a figure and is dressed in drab clothing with a kerchief over her head. I am overwhelmed by my love for her. When I see her through my heart, I am struck by her beauty. It is as if she is lit from the inside. Her goodness, her purity, her sweetness, streams out from everywhere. But then I know exactly where I am and what is happening and with great dread, where it will lead. Nazi Gemany, the war. (oh no) We are in the Warsaw ghetto. I am a doctor, maybe a surgeon? I am not sure. I have seen pieces of this life before but not this part. I have seen the camp. That is later. My heart pounds harder. I am a husband. I am a father. I have never seen my wife but here she is in front of me now. She is so worried, so anxious. I can smell her fear. We must pack our suitcase, only one. She is frightened for the children, for all of us. I look at her. My heart swells with love. I love her so much. And then I know. It is Asli. She is my wife from this life. Here she is. I have found her.
I do my best to calm her, to reassure her that it will be okay. I know this is not the truth. She also knows this but somehow it helps us both to pretend that we will be okay. She is not as frantic now that I have said these words. For just a moment, her armor drops and her light shines and there is Asli again and then BOOM, into another scene.
A cattle car. It smells dreadful. Sweat, urine, feces, vomit. FEAR. It is dark and hot. We are crushed up against one another. The children. MY children. The baby is crying and I know she is much cherished. She is almost three. Suddenly I know that we lost two before her. We tried for many years and she is our shining joy. She cries. My heart breaks. My baby. My oldest beside her. A boy. So brave. I see his young sweet face. He strains to keep his emotions tethered. I feel his sadness but even more, his need to make me be proud, to be a “man”. This is too much pressure for this child. My child. This love, oh heart of mine. In this moment I know how close we are, how important it is that I handle these moments in a way that will help him. I feel tremendous pressure. All of these thoughts. He is only eight. So young, so strong. I can’t take the strength of the emotion, coupled with the stench of the car, the people. But the fear is the worst. My own and theirs wrapped together with no beginning and no end. Who is my boy? So familiar.
My wife. She is beside me. Coughing, coughing. This had gone on for weeks in the ghetto. Blue around her mouth. She is so frail. So weak. Her body trembles. Coughing, coughing and then she gasps for air. Her eyes open wide with fear but then they change. Peace. She slips away. She is gone. (what will I do without her) For a moment, light surrounds her and I see Asli again. I must shield our children. I turn to the side. Her body is pulled beneath the feet of others. An empty shell. She is not there.
Photo credit the BBC
And FLASH, the scene changes again. It is so quick. I am confused. We are outside. The cattle cars behind us. A lot of activity. Screaming. Gun shots. TREBLINKA. My wife. In the car. Gone. My children. My daughter is in my right arm. I clutch her to my chest. My son holds onto my left leg. The guards are screaming at us. We don’t know what they are saying. More screaming. They grab my daughter from me. My son is shaking. I pull him closer, under my left arm. He is holding on. Digging his fingers into my leg. My daughter. Screaming, her face. It is agony. Activity. Confusion. Her face so beautiful. Her kerchief. Blonde hair plastered to her face. Sweat. Tears. FEAR. Now with the guard. Rough with her. Don’t treat my baby that way. She is pure joy. Pure light. You are hurting her. I taste the rage in my mouth.
They are trying to pull my son from me, to get my arm off of him. It is too much. STOP. Now he is screaming as well. Rage. Fear. Love. Protection. So much. So much. Pulling at me. Pulling at him. STOP. My son. My daughter screams. I scream. The guard takes the end of his gun, a rifle, the butt of it and slams it down on my arm above the elbow. I hear it crack. The bone breaks. In that same instant, they rip my boy from me. My arm dangles, useless. I see it as though it belongs to another body. Another time. (the pain that followed me from my dream was REAL) My heart leaps from my chest. My son rips himself away from the guard and lunges at the one who holds my daughter. His sister. They both scream. Now the guard who held my son screams the words that I still do not understand. He slaps my son then slams the back of his hand against my daughter’s face. The force of the blow to my son has lifted him off his feet and he lands in a heap. He screams, hit me, hit me and they do. Over and over again with their guns. He is bleeding, beaten. He does not cry. Some of the others are holding me back. And then they are hitting me too. Over and over again.
I don’t know how it happens (did a guard throw her) yet my daughter soars through the air and lands on top of my son who is already in a crumpled heap on the ground. He immediately straightens himself, I don’t know how he does it, and whispers to his sister. They stand and begin to walk toward the other children. He has his arm over her shoulder. He protects her, shelters her from any further harm. First she looks back at me and whimpers. I can see her eyes. The kerchief on her head is askew. One little blonde ringlet escapes and sticks to her sweaty forehead. And then I feel it, they are also the eyes of another. CHLORIS. My daughter is Chloris. Then she looks away from me and my children begin to walk forward, farther and farther from where I stand.
My heart leaps as my son turns and now it is his eyes which hold my own. I can hear him. How is this possible? Words in my head, yet his lips do not move. Papa, I love you. I have this. I am the man now. (but he is only eight) I will keep her safe, keep us safe. (but she is so young, only three, just a baby) One of his eyes is almost swollen shut. His mouth is covered in blood. He stands taller. And then I will it to him. All the love in my heart. I send it as a shield for my boy. My strength. My everything. My heart walks away from me. I am an empty man. Broken. They have won the battle. I have no more fight in me. And now I want to die. I will it to happen. I know that I will never see any of my family again. The pain. The pain. THE PAIN. And then I know him. My son’s eyes are different yet they are the same. My soul surges in acknowledgement. BLUE, MY SON IS BLUE.
I love them so much. I can’t watch this anymore. I know how this turns out and I cannot bear to repeat it. Take me out. 1, 2, 3 out NOW. I cannot experience this for a second time. It will break me. OUT OUT OUT. And suddenly I pop out of that life and am back in the room at Omega with the people who were strangers to me only three days earlier.
I don’t know how long I have been gone. My family that was taken from me is here with me now. In this room. We have found each other. We are back together in different lives and we are all okay. Asli, my wife. Blue, my son. Chloris, my daughter. All of us followed our separate journeys but our lives converged in this moment, at this time at Omega. My love is real and deep for all of them. I have so much to say. I begin to receive a huge download of information. Messages. Messages. So much. I find the threads, the connections, between who we used to be and who we are now. One last time. One last time. I realize that I have said this many, many times in the life that I have just come from. Oh to see them one last time. One more moment to love them. Here they are in front of me. The energy between us grows, surges and expands even more. Love. Pure sweet love. These people I have known for less than four days but maybe forever. I know them so well. It starts and ends with love. One more time to experience our love. The energy that comes from my heart space grows until it fills the room.
And there is joy.
Brilliant, bright, light-filled joy. The something that brought us back together was LOVE. Love never dies and we never die. We are bright beautiful eternal souls.
And we are Love.
~ until our paths bring us together again ~
My near death experience: https://katedelodovico.wordpress.com/2014/11/14/its-all-love/
My sister’s after death visit: Part 1 https://katedelodovico.wordpress.com/2013/09/10/loves-thread/
My website: http://www.katedelodovico.com/