|
|
Post by privatetucker on Nov 15, 2010 3:50:28 GMT -5
Wow, interesting! And....troubling as well of course. It takes a lot of bravery to sift through these memories. I really admire your strength in doing so. I know I am working up the strength bit by bit but I am taking it slow. That's why I laughed when you said "stupid brain block!" In my mind those blocks are good, at least for now!
*Hug* The memory of digging the trenches is so sad. Having to do that kind of work is...I can't even imagine. I believe I did something along those lines as well, and this is one of those things I am working up the strength to confront someday. But I take strength in all of your strength and knowing that it is possible to get through and heal from! And I hope your memoir is going well; I really loved the excerpt that I read!
And, haha, I know what you mean about obnoxious family! My cat will not let me sleep in the mornings, so any chance of getting any meditation work done then is disintegrated. Luckily I've found a good area/time that works for me and doesn't conflict with my cat's lovin' schedule. 
D'aww. -glomp- On one hand it'd be good if you'd get strength to remember (and overcome) but yes that work was quite gruesome and I'm sorry you were stuck with it, too. =/ What kind of time works for you, then? I've found late at night gives me the most quiet. ---- So, a little while back (I know I haven't visited since then and I'm sorry...was going through some unrelated bipolar stuff) but right before that I was able to get another memory.... In this memory, I'm six years old. I don't see me (considering I fell into the memory again, and it was in my POV) but I very clearly saw Rivkah. Back of my mind was telling me she was eight at the time. She was all in white--short white dress that fell just a little bit above the knees, with short, puffed sleeves. She had a giant white bow in her hair, and her hair was bobbed, just like when she was older. We were actually fighting over a toy--I think it was a stuffed monkey--tugging it between the two of us. I won that little tugging contest, but afterward I didn't feel good about it, a little sad. After that I actually fell asleep so I have no idea what happened beyond that. xD |
|
|
|
Post by sweetlunapie on Nov 15, 2010 12:06:05 GMT -5
Haha! And the winner is Bronia! How cute! |
|
Iseke
Full Member
Posts: 242
|
Post by Iseke on Nov 15, 2010 19:33:51 GMT -5
What kind of time works for you, then? I've found late at night gives me the most quiet.
And, awww. That's a sweet childhood memory. I never had any siblings (in this life nor that last several) so it must have been nice, even if you had your spats with each other.  |
|
|
|
Post by privatetucker on Nov 15, 2010 22:10:40 GMT -5
It seems to be the best time because usually your brain is unwinding and such. -nod- I don't know if I had siblings in other lives but it was very nice having her. |
|
|
|
Post by ckneville on Aug 16, 2011 22:33:15 GMT -5
My son and I were separated, he was taken from me. I can say that we were reunited again in 1976 when he was born to me a second time. My son was recently murdered about a month ago this time he was 35 years old. But just months before he was murdered he recognized a natzi in this life. This person led him to his death in this life. But before he was murdered he accomplished his mission in this life in several ways, mostly protecting the innocent. We both knew that this was his mission at a very young age. We have spent two lives together maybe we will spend another. Bitter Sweet...
|
|
|
|
Post by ckneville on Aug 18, 2011 0:40:47 GMT -5
It feels that I am in a place here of those who understand.This is not a normal thing for me to discuss with anyone, except my son. So now there is no one except those here for me to share my story. When I think of the past life we had as mother and son and that he was taken from me at about age 7 or 8. I remember feeling that I would never know what sort of man he might become. Now that we had each other for a whole 35 years I was able to see what a beautiful person he had become and that brings comfort to my heart. Now I still hurt to know that the same people who were in our past found their way into our lives again just to murder my Frankie again. I want to watch him grow old with grandchildren and lots of love and that I as his mother should die of natural causes. That some how in our next life that we would somehow escape the ones who killed us again and again.
I don't have that answer but I do know that is God gave us two life times together that we might have another. I want that so much but want somehow as if to go into the future and warn ourselves some how that those people may come to life again. If there is a book that I could write for a warning to those so that they do not meet the same fate. But it is not for me to change the future except for God to grant our dreams and in this case I had my son one more time. I made sure that I was there for him to love him every minute of the day every hour that I was awake.
Frankie knew that he would not live to be 40 years old but we didn't know why or how. Except that God had told him and he had a mission to complete for which he devoted the last two months of his life and my husband and I supported his efforts. There is so much more and I could go on...maybe I will write more..
|
|
|
|
|
|
Post by munchenruth on Aug 19, 2011 22:14:17 GMT -5
Another thing about names in Judaism: like in Catholicism when the child passing from catechism classes into full membership takes a saint name as a new or additional middle name; at the time of the bar or bat mitzvah, that is done. Typically it is the Hebraic form of the given name or the Hebrew name of the person they were named after (I knew a man named Phillip whose Hebrew name was Pesach [Passover] because that was the Hebrew name of his great-aunt Phyllis, whom he was named after). It could be Rivkah was the Hebrew name of this someone.
Note: Rivkah, where we get Rebecca, literally translates as 'cow.' I will never name a child Rebecca. Or Leah for that matter. Leah means 'ox that has not been yoked.' A lot is in a name.
This is awesome that you got a memory that way. I'm thankful you were able to feel that comfortable in shul. I've been a couple of times. I would like to attend again, but not at the local shul. I'm hoping to have a regression in shul, but I know I'll have to attend a segregated congregation, as worshiping with men in shul makes it too hard for me to focus, as it would have been then.
|
|
|
|
Post by munchenruth on Aug 19, 2011 22:19:50 GMT -5
Welcome, ckneville. We are truly sorry for your losses and brotkrume and I will hold you and your family in our thoughts and prayers at this dark hour.
|
|
Iseke
Full Member
Posts: 242
|
Post by Iseke on Aug 21, 2011 16:23:45 GMT -5
Note: Rivkah, where we get Rebecca, literally translates as 'cow.' I will never name a child Rebecca. Or Leah for that matter. Leah means 'ox that has not been yoked.' A lot is in a name. |
|
|
|
Post by munchenruth on Aug 27, 2011 23:04:18 GMT -5
This is long, so if you find it tl;dr, I totally understand.
I thought about writing a book about a young person discovering reincarnation and their coming to terms with it.
Also, I was suicidal in high school and am a recovering cutter.
Amazing how many of us do have hard teen years.
DISCLAIMER: Camp life to follow. May be disturbing to some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised.
I, too, remember the tightness of the bunks and the vermin. All of the vermin. Rats at the feet. Lice at the head.
I remembered someone dying on top of me when I was in a sleeping configuration in which my body was tight to the ceiling for an extended length of nights.
What gets me is I can't remember if I were ghetto-ed, but I remember being late-on as a camp internee, but being from Munich, how could I escape this without hiding, which I don't remember doing either.
Somehow, I did encounter, sometime in my life, coming across a man in a gas mask. To this day, if it's the old style masks, especially the ones with the hose, I have a panic attack.
I also have an unexplained crazy panic attack fear of jet engines, even ones not running, and the innards of elevators, helicopters, planes, etc. The bigger or dirtier the worst. Further, same thing with RADAR equipment. I ended up being within less than a meter from a resistance RADAR and first it freaked me that it snuck (sneaked?) up on me and 2 I immediately knew what it was and wanted 0 to do with it. I ran from the museum. Just B-lined it.
I did pass initial Selektion, though. I remember that.
Wish I could unlock more car knowledge from a different past life. Sucks I got girl car brains. Somewhat.
|
|
|
|
Post by munchenruth on Aug 27, 2011 23:06:45 GMT -5
I agree, Iseke. Was just offering up my opinion. Didn't say the name should be illegal. Sorry if it came off that way. Lots of people love the name. It's cool. I like names others may not prefer.
|
|
|
|
Post by privatetucker on Sept 18, 2011 20:42:16 GMT -5
Another thing about names in Judaism: like in Catholicism when the child passing from catechism classes into full membership takes a saint name as a new or additional middle name; at the time of the bar or bat mitzvah, that is done. Typically it is the Hebraic form of the given name or the Hebrew name of the person they were named after (I knew a man named Phillip whose Hebrew name was Pesach [Passover] because that was the Hebrew name of his great-aunt Phyllis, whom he was named after). It could be Rivkah was the Hebrew name of this someone. Note: Rivkah, where we get Rebecca, literally translates as 'cow.' I will never name a child Rebecca. Or Leah for that matter. Leah means 'ox that has not been yoked.' A lot is in a name. This is awesome that you got a memory that way. I'm thankful you were able to feel that comfortable in shul. I've been a couple of times. I would like to attend again, but not at the local shul. I'm hoping to have a regression in shul, but I know I'll have to attend a segregated congregation, as worshiping with men in shul makes it too hard for me to focus, as it would have been then. Actually, Leah means "weay" in Hebrew, and I chose that name for myself because of the Matriarch. I'm not a cow. When it came to Rivkah's name, in the Polish-Jewish culture that we were a part of there wasn't a translation of the name into its Polish equivalent, at least not in our family or the families that I knew then. Our family didn't even go to synagogue as far as my memories have shown me. It was a bit odd in our past lives, our naming, because my sister got the fully Hebrew name--Rivkah Michal. Meanwhile I got the fully Polish name, Bronislawa Karolina. My father named me, though, whereas my mother named my sister. Bronia means "protector of glory" in Polish, which is kind of awesome. |
|
|
|
Post by privatetucker on Sept 18, 2011 20:44:54 GMT -5
Holy sh*t, that is terrifying. -shudders- I'm sorry you had to have that happen to you, ugh, the idea makes my skin crawl. =/
It's possible you were neither put into a ghetto nor caught in hiding--in Germany I know there were some transports that were sent straight to the camps and bypassed Lodz or Theresienstadt or wherever. Do you know what camp it was?
/ double post, whoo!
|
|
