by Tarra Light
She was so very thin, so pale, yet her spirit danced like a fairy princess. She appeared like a playful woodland sprite from the nether realms of make-believe. Amidst the desolation and deprivation, her inner life sustained her. Surely this child had mastered the art of survival. Her creativity was the wellspring of her strength, attuning her mind to a higher plane.
Jezra and I became fast friends. The healer in me resonated with the artist in her. Our energies harmonized as spiritual sisters. As children of the Light, we cast our dice before the gates of hell. As her trust in me grew, Jezra told me her story.
She came from the north, from an industrial city of steel and stone. Her father Isaak was a wealthy entrepreneur, revered by the Jews, reviled by the gentiles. Two years ago her life had changed forever. As she stood by his side, her father was murdered by the Nazis. The endless echo of that shot resounded in her mind. She felt numb inside at times, like a mannequin; it was her way of coping with that grief.
She had learned to survive at Auschwitz for thirteen months, and she taught me the ropes of survival.
Psychic Mind Link
UNTYING THE STRING OF her cloth pouch, Jezra began to play “the stone game.” Inside her pouch were more than fifty small round stones, about the size of marbles. Each stone was a precious treasure from the earth. With the tip of her stick tool, she shaped little holes in neat rows in the ground. Carefully sorting through her stones, she picked just the right one to fit into each hole. These precise stone arrangements were her secret code, like hieroglyphics.
Then it was my turn to make up a new game. I took the drawing stick and designed symbols, tracing them from my mind’s eye. The fun part of the game was to have Jezra guess what I was thinking about from looking at each symbol. In this way, we developed our telepathic abilities and the psychic link between us.
As Jezra drew her pictures in the dirt, her sleeve flew back in the breeze, exposing a long cut across her wrist and forearm. It was not healing due to abscess and infection. I asked her permission to place my healing hands over the wound. She felt my love for her and acquiesced. “OK,” she agreed, “at least let’s try.” I closed my eyes and said a prayer. I focused the healing energies as I had done before when working with my family and animals. As my hands became warm, I saw Jezra sigh and relax. As she closed her eyes we harmonized with each other. Opening her eyes, she exclaimed, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” I could tell that she did not understand, but she trusted me.
I Meet the Professor
“ACCLAMATIONS!”
I was surprised to hear a voice speaking to me. It entered my mind as a stream of pure thought with neither pitch nor timbre. I looked around but saw no one who might be addressing me.
“Very good, Natasza. I congratulate you on your talent for healing. You shall be a help to many with your ready hands.”
I strained my eyes and looked around once again. Then I relaxed and refocused my eyes, seeing with the inner sight taught to me by my mother. In this way, I was able to discern the figure of a man with light shining through him. He was a ghost!
At first I stared at him in disbelief, which quickly turned into curiosity. After my initial shock at seeing a ghost, my emotions settled down. I attuned my psychic vision and looked him over very carefully. He appeared to be a rather stoutly built man in his mid-sixties. He walked toward me, hunched over, leaning on a cane he held in his right hand. His hair was gray and pulled back tightly, and he wore a handlebar mustache.
“Let me introduce myself, young woman. My name is Boris Brozinski. For quite a while, I have been observing you. Now you have ripened. Your telepathy is finely tuned; you are able to see and hear me. It is time for me to show myself to you.
“I appear before you now to ask you to listen to your heart. Feel your heart as it moves with compassion. Hear your heart as it speaks with wisdom. The voice of your heart is calling you to walk your destiny path. You are being called to serve humanity. You are being called to minister to the House of Judah. You have been chosen by the Most High, and have been blessed with the gifts of Spirit to carry you through.
“Answer the call of your heart. As you commit your life to serve our people, I will assist you as your spiritual guardian and mentor. I will protect you from danger, and show you how to overcome anger. I will teach you more about the art of healing and the science of medicine. This knowledge is necessary for your future life work. I can no longer carry this burden alone. I need someone with your gifts and abilities to work in partnership with me.”
Who was this ghost who had been secretly watching me? How could he know what my calling was going to be? I had never seen a ghost before. Since leaving the security of my home and village, the roots of my reality had been tossed into the wind.
“What drives you with such passion?” I questioned the ghost-man. “What motivates you to help people?”
“As a child,” he answered, “I was very much like you are now: sensitive and psychic. But I denied my feelings and ignored my intuition in order to develop intellectual prowess. I excelled in my studies and was considered brilliant. I was appointed professor of history and Jewish studies at the University of Warsaw. I was looked upon as an erudite scholar and was lauded and respected by my peers. After climbing the steps of the stairway of knowledge, I hid away from the world in my ivory tower of illusions. Reverberations from gunshots rocked the tower, and I awakened from my dream. I woke up to witness the horror of the Nazis invading our homeland and brutalizing our people.
“I must make amends for my arrogance. I regret burying my head in books like an ostrich. I feel overwhelmed by guilt and remorse for turning my back on suffering humanity while I vainly sought the hollow honors of mental power. My young wife and two sons were taken to the slave-labor camps. They transferred me from camp to camp; I was labeled a troublemaker because I took risks to help my people. Finally, they shot me for defiance. They murdered my body, but they could not destroy my spirit.”
“Why did you choose me, professor?” I asked. “Why me?”
“In your heart of hearts, you know the answer. Your heart has already chosen. Are you willing to devote your life to serve God and humanity? Are you ready to answer His call? Your bright light shines like a beacon of hope through the fog of oppression. The mercy of your love softens hearts that are hardened. You speak the truth despite the consequences,” Boris praised me. He continued, “I need the assistance of a human counterpart. We have many souls to save, many bodies to heal. Let’s make an agreement to work together for the good. Let’s make a deal now. There is no time to lose.”
Should I consort with this ghost who seemed so insistent? What did he mean by “saving souls”? Healing Jezra’s wound was one thing; saving souls was another. “Professor, I need time to consider your offer. I will answer you tomorrow—when the black crow lands atop the north guard tower.”
Heaven
ANOTHER ONE OF MY beliefs about reality was shattered. I did not realize that dead people could work as hard as living people. I thought that in heaven you rested, contemplating and praising God. I imagined that when I arrived in heaven I would learn to play the harp, frolic with fairies, and gather golden rosebuds to make garlands of glory. It didn’t occur to me that my spirit might have a job to do after I died.
Beyond the Grave
GROWING UP AT AUSCHWITZ I saw the many faces of death. I awoke each morning knowing that this day could be my last. The challenge of facing death transformed my view of life. I learned to be present in the moment. I learned to be grateful for the smallest things, and to thank God for every blessing. Although I was barely thirteen years of age, I was becoming wise beyond my years.
Until I met the ghost-man, I had not considered the possibility of the afterlife, nor wondered what happens to us after we die. To me, Boris Brozinski was “real” proof of the eternal life of the spirit.
Exodus
SHOULD I MAKE A deal with the professor? I was faced with a decision that could change my
life. I prayed for guidance, for clear seeing and knowing.
Searching my memories for inspiration, a scene from my childhood came into focus in my mind’s eye. I saw my elder brother Simon sitting in an armchair in the parlor of our flat. As my family sat around him, he read to us from the Holy Book. The afternoon sun shone through the parlor window, surrounding him with a golden halo. His voice became animated as he read the word of God. His face was radiant, and a peaceful presence filled the room:
God spoke unto Moses: “Bring law to the people. Teach them the sacredness and sanctity of life.”
Moses went to the Pharaoh of Egypt. “Let my people go.” After plagues and pestilence were smitten upon the land, the Pharaoh summoned Moses in the night. “Go now, your people and your flocks.”
Moses led the exodus of the Jewish people from the land of slavery. When they reached the Red Sea, the Army of the Lord was waiting. His lieutenants stood in a line from shoreline to shoreline, watching for a signal from Moses. As he stretched his right hand over the Red Sea, the waters began to churn and roar and rush apart. The crowd of astonished onlookers gasped in awe.
“It’s a miracle,” they cried. “Praise God.”
The lieutenants of the Lord held up the churning walls of water, and bare ground appeared. The people ran down the long passageway, fleeing the wrath of Pharaoh.
Moses delivered the Israelites into the land of freedom.
Simon closed the Holy Book and sat in contemplation. Lost in thought, I reflected on the story of Exodus. I admired Moses for his unwavering faith and service to God. I will learn from his example, I promised myself. I will trust in God to guide me through the dark days ahead.
Angel of Deliverance
THAT NIGHT I HAD a dream. I saw myself climbing up a very steep mountain. The slopes were slippery and sharp, and the rock was brittle and crumbled beneath my feet. The climb was torturous and slow. I had to rest in caves where bats hung upside down. A few times I lost my balance and fell backward down the mountain. I was losing strength, and my determination was failing. I prayed for deliverance from my ordeal.
Then an old black crow flew above my head. The flapping of his wings disheveled my hair. Old Mr. Crow cawed out to me, “The angel of deliverance awaits you.” Then I heard the clatter of racing hooves behind me and saw a white stallion with angel’s wings galloping up the side of the mountain. He flew up the mountain and quickly came upon me in my struggle. “Hop on, Natasza!” The stallion beckoned to me with his handsome head. “The time of your deliverance is now. Choose between suffering and freedom.” The white stallion nudged me to get on. On his back was a golden saddle studded with rubies and emeralds.
I could be a princess flying high in the heavens, or I could be a lost child struggling to find my way out of the darkness. I mounted the celestial steed, took the reins in my hands, and rose above my trials and tribulations. “Wings of Spirit,” I cried. “Deliver me. Take me Home!” I stood on the golden saddle and turned around, waving good-bye to fear and pain. Then I faced forward and greeted my future in a flying embrace.
A shot rang out, and I was startled awake. I had been riding on the back of the angel of deliverance. Would God send His angels to help me and Boris? I heard shouting outside and wondered if Boris were a dream too. Was he a phantom of my imagination? Before I agreed to work with him, I must test him to see what he could do. Perhaps he was a hallucination brought on by my hunger and thirst. Maybe he wouldn’t even show up at the north guard tower.
I lay awake in my bed until first light, my mind seesawing between hope and doubt. Could I trust the ghost professor? What did he want from me?
The Holy Covenant
ANXIOUSLY, I DELIBERATED ON the proposal made by the professor. Fears and doubts raced through my mind. How can I trust this ghost? I wondered. Can ghosts be held accountable for their actions?
My mind stopped for an instant as I felt a sharp prick on the top of my head. Looking skyward, I saw Old Mr. Crow flying over me. He had dropped an acorn on my crown to get my attention.
“Hurry, Natasza. Hurry!” he telepathed to me. “Destiny is calling you. The moment of choice is now. It is time to meet the ghost professor at the north guard tower.”
This is the ultimate commitment, I told myself. There is no turning back. My life will be changed forever. Am I ready to make a holy covenant with God to minister divine love; to contract with a ghost to heal the sick and save souls, to speak the truth without fear?
Taking a leap of faith, I went forward in anticipation of this fortuitous meeting. As the tower came into view, I saw a black crow landing on its pinnacle. Seated on the ground at the base of the tower was the ghost professor. He sat hunched forward, apparently contemplating. As he turned his head and looked at me, the black crow flew from the tower and landed on my shoulder.
“Hail Natasza,” spoke the talking bird. “Honor my comrade, Boris the ghost.”
It was an auspicious meeting. I sensed a gathering of angels and spirit witnesses. I sat down in the dark shadow of the tower, facing the ghost-man. By my feet I found a twig, pointed at one end. To symbolize the consecration of the holy covenant, I drew a round circle in the hard dirt. A bolt of lightening crackled and thundered down as the hosts of heaven applauded.
“I have three requirements for you to fulfill,” I said, asserting myself. “Only then will I agree to work with you. First, how can you protect me?”
Mr. Crow volunteered, “I will be part of your early warning system. When you are in jeopardy, I will caw out Danger! Danger!”
“As you can see, I have enlisted the aid of our airborne allies,” said the professor. “They want to serve us as members of the healing team.” He was proud to announce the healer-crow alliance.
“I have a repertoire of stratagems to outwit the guards. I can distract them and divert their attention from where you are working. I can confuse them by projecting alter egos into their minds. They may see you, but they will not recognize you. I can serve as a spy and an agent of intelligence. I can listen to strategic conversations and report back to you.
“Realize that being transparent has many advantages. I can merge with your energy field so the light will pass through you. I can teach you how to use the laws of physics to create a shield of invisibility. With my protection, you will be able to accomplish more than you ever could alone. Let’s make a deal now.” The old ghost knew many tricks for subterfuge and deception. He had accurately appraised my skepticism and was prepared to persuade me to work with him.
“Second, I have designed a test for you, Professor. Go to the officers’ kitchen behind the mess hall. Enter the pantry and steal for me five kilos of groceries. Bring me the sack of food tomorrow afternoon.” Hunger gnawed at my insides. I was always thirsty, but drank sparingly because the water was contaminated with typhus.
“I am free to come and go as I please,” he answered. “I can bring you whatever you want.”
“Third, is there anything else?” I said seriously.
The professor stood up. It was time to move on. “Let us bid au revoir to our bird allies,” he suggested. We began to walk, following the barbed-wire fence line. Leaning on his cane, the old ghost hobbled along. He walked hunched forward, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Can I trust this ghost? I wondered again. Is he hiding something? “Now, old man,” I said, “Don’t hold anything back. Be forthright.”
Hearing these words the professor dropped his cane. Locking his eyes onto mine he stood up straight and tall. Stretching out his arms, his figure appeared like a crucifix. A golden light began to radiate from the cross as the ghost became transfigured by the light. A churning cumulus cloud appeared above each shoulder. As the whirling motion slowed, I was able to make out thousands of tiny faces floating within each cloud.
“Who are they?” I asked. “Whose faces do I see?”
“These are the faces of souls who have lost their way. They don’t remember who they a
re. They don’t know how to return Home to the Heart of God. They are the multitudes seeking salvation. They are the burden I must carry. I must assuage my guilt. I must make amends for forsaking my people.”
I watched in awe as thousands of tiny faces showed themselves and disappeared. I looked into their eyes, and they looked back at me. My heart broke with compassion to see the faces of the fallen ones. They were the spirits of the dead who had attached themselves to Boris. He walked hunched forward because he was carrying this astral weight.
“Sudden death is a shock to the soul,” Boris explained. “These souls that I carry are the spirits of the dead who have been wandering about, confused and disoriented. They are bound to the earthly plane by desire. At the moment of death they did not claim their freedom. They were unprepared for the journey into light.”
“How did they find you?” I asked.
“My guilt attracted them to me. The weight I carry is the price of my ticket to martyrdom. Have mercy on the souls of the dead. Natasza, you must help me. Thousands yet to die will need you. Your compassion will attract them like moths to a flame. Your spiritual power will sustain them. God has chosen you. God has placed you here. Answer His call.
“God in His mercy for suffering humanity has sent one of His angels to deliver His people. The angel of deliverance at Auschwitz is called Natasza.”
Shields of Protection
AS MY SPIRITUAL GUARDIAN, Boris protected me from danger. He helped me to perform my healing work free from the observation of the Nazis. To summon him I called “Boris!” with the force of my mind. As his astral form appeared before me, I telepathed, “I need your assistance, Professor. I don’t want the guards to witness my activities. I don’t want the women of my barracks to be aware of my absence. I want to be invisible. As a ghost, I surmise you have some expertise in disappearance.”