The problem with perpetrators.

April 16, 2013 in Cenobite, Dealing with Trauma by Cenobite | No comments

So this is one of my first proper posts on the site since it was launched, and that’s not because so much of a lack of interest, but moreso a lack of being able to make a post about healing from my last life, because the things to identify to heal are so different.

With victims, the trauma is more evident and easy to pinpoint. You can get a clear idea of why the trauma is there and how it was caused. With being a Nazi, it’s a lot harder to see yourself as someone that needs to get over things when, during the life, you never saw it as a problem.

That’s not to say I think of the nazi ideology as “not a problem”. While I still agree with the eugenics side of wiping out weak genes and letting the stronger genes progress, this had always been from the viewpoint of the species in general, not for any agendas or opinions.  There was never any connection for me with the anti jewish/gay/disabled etc propaganda. I saw it all for the bullshit it really was. I only became a Nazi for an excuse to kill as many people as I could.

I the desire was brought over from other lives, the one previous before Nazi Germany  again spent with a lot of… fairly brutal exploits… The problems all seem to spiral back through the years as my lives went from bad to worse with events, and more importantly, my deaths. I had become more distant and frankly sick of humanity as a whole, developing my more misanthropist and sociopathic sides that I still have today.

In terms of where I am at healing now. I think I’m around the same point as I were in Germany, after I had met Anna. After the escape from the camp and return to a semi normal life, I had calmed down, alot, but I can only imagine my bout of dementia at the end went and screwed that back up for me for this life.

Because the problems are so different, more ingrained with my personality than distinct events, It’s harder for me to analyse and make logical reasons to understand why X causes Y.  You can’t just say “I have a fear of enclosed spaces because of the trains to the camps” or something to that effect. So finding a real plan on how to fix things becomes a much bigger task.

With that in mind, it’s harder to post things relevant to healing from a past life, not only in regards to events, but even specifically towards Germany. Which is probably why there’s a lot less input from the perpetrators than the victims on the site.

Updates from me may be few and far between, but that’s what you get when trying to diagnose a problem with no symptoms visible to yourself.

On Being a Perpetrator

April 13, 2013 in Healing, Iseke, Reflections by Iseke | No comments

I was a victim in the Holocaust. I’ve seen firsthand the effect of human cruelty and the loss of humanity that occurs when tensions and misunderstandings are allowed to go too far. I’ve seen horror and rage and injustice.

I’ve also been on the other side of the fence.

When we talk about the Holocaust and other atrocious events in history, we often talk about karma and who is paying off what debt. I’ve said before that I don’t think karma works the way people seem to believe sometimes, where victims are paying off old debts and perpetrators are therefore acting as some kind of karma police (while simultaneously incurring new debts?). I don’t think that view is helpful, and here is why.

We all learn about human suffering through playing our various roles, and those of us who were victims in one life were perpetrators of suffering in another. When we decide to take a conscious role in our actions we can try to step outside of these dynamics, and I believe that is the goal. But it is a mistake to say that there are only two kinds of people, victims and aggressors, and we can never change, never play the other part, never learn, never grow. It’s why, as a victim during the Holocaust, I’m not interested in attacking those who had a hand in perpetuating its cruelty. I believe we all have something to learn from our time in these events, and there were many many roles we could have played.

We could have been a supporter of a growing political movement that was building up to genocide. We could have watched from the sidelines, either ignoring our disappearing neighbors or trying to look out for them. Perhaps we were afraid. Perhaps we were brave. If we found ourselves in the camps, we might have had a choice to make. Steal a piece of bread from someone to live another day? Pull someone out of sight to safety only to risk being seen ourselves? Rape a fellow prisoner out of frustration, rage, or powerlessness? Stand up for someone else even though you might face punishment? We all had choices to make, and many of us, when pressed, chose to do the easy thing. And the easy thing was sometimes cruel.

I have many memories of the Nazis who were awful towards me. But I have memories of the ones who were kind, who went against their position to offer me something, who saved my life. It’s a complicated issue and I won’t pretend that I don’t harbor hard feelings from time to time. However, I would never want to suggest that we don’t all have complex roles in the tapestry of this event. I don’t believe victims were universally good on a karmatic level, and all Nazis and Nazi supporters were therefore bad. I don’t believe in good or bad people, only good and bad actions.

That is why we seek to have an inclusive discussion here. Not one that celebrates victims of the Holocaust while tearing down those on the other side, because throughout our souls’ histories we have doubtless played all roles. The goal here is healing, recovering, treating others with kindness and respect. And we need all voices to make that happen.

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Why We Write

February 10, 2013 in Reflections by Iseke | No comments

I wanted to share something I came across in the WordPress community lately that touches on so many things related to the HTA project. It’s about why this conversation is so important, and it’s why we’re here and sharing our experiences. I especially connected with this quote:

Why I Write by Harper Faulkner:

I hate with a gut-burning, soul-searing never ending hatred, the strong trampling the weak. I hate the arrogance of those who place themselves in god-like positions over others. I hate that insidious nature of mankind that says because I am stronger; I can control you, use you, and even kill you. And, if possible, I hate even more the people who can, but don’t stand up and say, “I will not let that happen!”

Whether you identify as a reincarnated Holocaust victim (or perpetrator, or civilian) or not, the issue of the Holocaust and genocide in general is still something that truly affects us all.

Read it here at: Why I write

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Silenced

January 29, 2013 in Luna, Reflections by Luna | 5 comments

I just want to talk about it sometimes.
Maybe that is selfish of me, but sometimes, I just want somebody to listen.
I know fully that there’s nothing that anybody can say to make my trauma leave my psyche, and I understand that people aren’t always going to know what to say once I’ve spoken about it; I just want my words to be heard.

It is so frustrating when I’m being haunted by a terrible memory, and I bring it up to somebody who isn’t in the reincarnation community but is accepting of my beliefs, and I try to talk something out about the Holocaust with them…and they just skirt the topic.

Yes, I’m well freaking aware that it’s an uncomfortable topic. I know it’s taboo. I know it’s depressing.
But how do you think I feel, actually possessing memories of this uncomfortable, taboo, and depressing topic, though?
How do you suppose I feel when you stifle my voice when I just want to be heard?

I know that people are not receptive of the notion, in general, of reincarnated Holocaust victims and Nazis, so I expect this out of them. But there are people who I trust, who haven’t been through the Holocaust, and sometimes, I just want to talk about it with them.
Somebody who won’t be reminded of their own trauma when I tell them about mine; somebody who won’t feel responsible for my trauma when I talk about it.
Somebody who might just learn something about why I am the way I am, or why I struggle with certain things.

You don’t have to understand.
You don’t have to say something empathetic.
Hell, you don’t even have to believe in reincarnation!

All you have to do is listen.

Just listen.

Iseke’s Past Life Memories: Interrogation

December 17, 2012 in Irina's Memories (1905-1945), Iseke, Memories by Iseke | No comments

I had a troubling memory from Irina’s life come up during an out of town overnight trip. I think there are probably more details to this that I’m lacking at the moment, so if I am able to fill out this memory any more I’ll update it.

I’m in this skinny, bunker looking hallway. I sense there are about two men behind me, leading me, in brown uniforms. I am in white, probably my nursing clothes, and at the end is an open door with a curved metal handle. I do not want to go through that doorway. Whatever it is, it’s bad. I’m not sure if it’s my fear or Irina’s fear, but I dread seeing what’s beyond it.

I go into the room and see another man in a brown uniform sitting at a little table. It’s an interrogation room, and he is smiling in this sleazy “caught another one!” expression. I can’t hear what is said but get the impression I am telling him a legitimate sounding story about what I was doing and how it was not actually criminal activity. The man smiles at me, either to pretend he is buying my story or because he knows I’m going to get slammed anyway. I’m not sure what’s going to come but perhaps I hope he will believe me.

This memory was…well, a lot of it was impressions, as in things I felt or glimpsed briefly. I saw it like a scene but a lot of details were missing…I sensed my clothing and the men that had been behind me but didn’t -see- them visually, for instance. I’m not sure at what stage this was in my getting caught/brought in for resistance activity but I assume it was at the very beginning. I’m not sure if I knew what was in store for me but I had the sense there was no way I could get out of the interrogation…as though something worse than death awaited me if I tried.

Had another brief emotional memory of me in the camp sometime later, feeling absolute desperation. No context or visuals, just that it was during work.

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