a red thread

I have the sense that I am a container of enormous amounts of information – or memories – and that much of what i have labeled “I” and “me” is purely collective material which I have attached an “I” to. The last days I have felt like a radio-receiver picking up waves of info – and most of it seems to have to do with Jews  and holocaust. I have clear memories from a young girl, Sara, in Auschwitz  – and today I saw the movie “Sara’s key”, after the book by Tatjana de Rosney.

Yesterday, I was sketching and found myself drawing elegant figures of something looking like hourglasses or wineglasses. They were talking to me, and I did not get what they said. Then the words “moriatur mori” came – it sounds like Latin, and that it has to do with death. I asked a cousin for help, and the first word is a wish : “may s/he die” _ and “mori” means “to die.”

In the night, I found and forgave the belief that the dreamer is projecting on the screen, manifesting as massacres and holocaust – the belief that there is something evil in my mind that is stronger than me and stronger than Love. I believe this is just a convenient belief to block the original fear of a maniac revenge-god.

My right eye starts hurting bad, and I allow it. I am as God created me, so this story never happened in reality. Still, I seem to be connected to every hurting victim of massacres. Victim – innocent. Death-wishes.

So I go see” Sara’s key” today – and there, in a room in a scene, where a family secret is unveiled, I recognize my sketches from yesterday – exactly the same constellation of convex and concave forms. They are literally shining in the darkness, against a dark wall, and I feel  great relief and the presence of the sacred. What, I still don’t know.

In my family, there has been a big family secret: we are Jews by bloodline, but not as denomination.

Maybe I am being visited by memories from Holocaust because there is something here I have not forgiven. Sara in the movie killed herself because of horrible guilt at feeling responsible for her little brother’s death by locking him in a closet, when the French authorities came to lead her family to deportation. She promised to come and get him – and never did, by obvious reasons.

I have written this down, because I have an idea that many threads are coming together in my script, and I need to put it somewhere to keep it available when the next piece comes. I have had processes like this all my life – and only because i have “saved” them, have I been able to see the red thread much later.

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Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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