“THE DRIVING FORCE WAS FEAR” by Lilly ©

A reincarnation story about fear related to past lives

Marianne Notschaele-den Boer, past life therapist & writer of books about past lives and reincarnation

© RHA Publishing

Apocalypse horsemen – Salvador Dali

THE DRIVING FORCE WAS FEAR

A few months ago I left a remark at YouTube. Just to say thank you to the person who had uploaded a Jewish/Gipsy music movie. Some days later I received an unexpected email from a Scandinavian woman Lilly who ‘wanted to ask me something’. She had watched the same music movie, saw my remark and decided to contact me.

I am a firm believer that coincidence is just a whisper of the universe to enable us to learn some lessons or to let us meet persons (again and again in different life times) in order to finish unfinished business out of previous situations. So I answered her email. Then a lot of things happened…

In return for my therapeutical advise by email I asked Lilly if she wanted to write a kind of testimonial about what happened because I would love to have an English contribution to my website for foreign readers. Well, I got a beautiful story, in fact two stories:

- see below the introduction to the story

- and the past life story "Pluto The Black and Grey Cat"

for which I would like to thank Lilly deeply.

LILLY:

It won’t end well

“The driving force was fear. I say fear but really it was shock, horror, dread and terror all rolled into one. Connected to one person, someone I had never before seen in my life, someone who just happened to walk past on that spring day. I only saw his back but the first thing I thought of, the first thing that came to my mind was, what an incredibly evil and cruel man. I hope he never sees me, that he never talks to me because he will judge me, judge me for being Jewish and it won’t end well. And strangely, that couldn’t be further from the truth. He was a nice guy, still is, and I knew that somewhere in the back of my mind, with all the fear and the dread and the horror going on, amidst all the terror, there was the tiniest voice: this man is your friend. But I wasn’t hearing that, I couldn’t, not yet. There were visions of fire that followed soon after, I named him The Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. Not because I was overly religious (though talk of the Apocalypse scares me to this day) but simply because I’d come upon the bible quote around the same time: and I looked and I beheld a pale horse and the name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. I’d heard it on a TV show, The West Wing, to be exact and there was something about the symmetry and its beauty, something that seemed appropriate when looking at a face that beautiful as it was, beheld the Mask of Death.

Dread and terror

I saw him again, soon after that, in the same place, just standing there, talking to friends, blond and blue-eyed, like he was. And I knew then, I knew that this wasn’t the first time we’d met, that there had been another life before that, a life in which there had been terror and dread, all the terror and dread in the world combined. And I had been warned against that, warned by a good friend, one who had been there as well and was no longer with me because he now lived too far away: don’t go there, stay away from that. But I knew I would revisit it, some day, things brought it out, always had. There was the song from my childhood that I heard on the radio, although I wasn’t aware I was remembering then. A song that brought out stories of camps and people being chased and experiments on children and all around us there had been death. I’d known from about the time I met my dear friend, that if I ever did go back to remembering that, I would need a strong network of friends. People who were there for me, who could catch me in my proverbial fall. Friends that made me feel safe. It would take one hell of a very strong personality (and a belief in reincarnation wouldn’t hurt either plus the power of being able to deal with that) to keep me safe, to keep me from going insane. But the people I had been thinking of, they were too far away.

Klezmer music

I honestly can’t remember what I was doing on that site that day or how I ended up there, some links about Klezmer music. I never remember the really significant things exactly but there was something about gypsy music, someone left a comment, something about camps and WW II and that made me pay attention. Something about the way the message was worded, something that told me, this person, too, is your friend, this person can help. Because I knew that my fear of the man had to do with the camps, that he had been there, a guard, and me the prisoner. It was the fear that gave it away, that intense gripping fear and the fact that whenever I saw him, I had a panic attack, post traumatic stress disorder and emotional medical shock all rolled into one. I’ve never had that with anyone and hopefully I never will.

So I wrote some message to Marianne, I don’t remember what exactly I said, I think I asked her if she could help me with this, that there was this fear, that her message had given me some measure of hope and that I wanted to talk to her. I was actually going insane. I know testimonials and critiques are all about how wonderful the person is but the fact is, if it hadn’t been for her, if she hadn’t helped, I’m pretty sure that I’d be in a mental hospital by now. Because one more meeting with that guy, without knowing some facts, and that would have literally been that; the things my close friends had warned me about. I remember my childhood friend writing me in a letter, telling me not to even go there because her neighbour had done it and she had literally gone mental.

It made sense

The first thing she told me (well, after saying that she would help) was not to be afraid of the guy because in this life he couldn’t hurt me anymore. Then, she mentioned something that had never even crossed my mind: we’d had several lives together. I’d been so focused on that one, the one that had scared me the most that the thought that there might be more life times had never occurred to me. But it made sense, suddenly a lot of his and my actions made sense. Actually, that’s a lie, everything suddenly made sense. Because of a few other things that she said, and mainly with the reassurance that I really had no reason to be afraid of him anymore, that I didn’t need to dread him, that in this life he wasn’t bad, I had the courage to tell him that. It had been at the back of my mind for a while, that little voice I couldn’t make myself hear in the beginning, but that became clearer after each email I received from Marianne, that idea really, that I needed to talk to him and tell him that. I was so caught up in the fear that I didn’t register on the worst day of my life, when I saw him and literally thought that the world would end, the way he looked at me and kindly asked me if I was having a meltdown. But when I ended up telling him that he scared me, the next time I saw him, I was shaking so bad, I remember holding my phone in my hand and him looking at it and I knew then, I knew with absolute finality that I had to tell him.

Most people, the few that I told this to, with the exception of Marianne and two of my best friends, they laughed. He could have done it as well, walked away. But instead he took it away, he totally took it away. He told me he knew, and the way he spoke to me later, made me realize he was trying to calm me down, that he was trying to make me laugh, turning the fear into laughter. We became really good friends, even ending up at the same New Year’s Eve party together. We became fast friends within less than 24 hours. In a way, it was as if we had always known each other, which, as Marianne confirmed was really the case.

5,000 + years of anguish and being on opposite ends and never finding any peace and quiet in our lives, always kicking the living daylights out of each other (because in several life times, or at least one that I know of now that I spoke to Marianne, that she mentioned to me, I was a pretty bad person to him as well) but knowing somehow underneath it all that deep down inside we totally had each other’s backs, that we decided we were the only two people who could take on each other’s karma, who could teach the other the life lesson that we need to, needed to learn. Even if he doesn’t believe in reincarnation my newfound friend. And yet, he still manages to communicate things to me all the same.

Turns out I know Marianne from at least three life times as well, and I’m willing to bet that in at least one of them, he was a (big) part of it as well. Funny, how I thought it was my old friends that I needed in order to feel safe but then it was a new one, who turned out to be an old one, and one who turned out to be even older.“

©Lilly

Marianne Notschaele-den Boer/RHA Publishing

Lilly’s past life story can be found here: "Pluto The Black and Grey Cat"

Return to mainpage of this website Past Lives Stories & Therapy in Dutch: http://www.vorigelevens.nl

Another story in English about past lives: Woman who had a vision about the sinking of the Titanic - past life

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Copyright © RHA Publishing, February2010