Angel of Auschwitz

by Tarra Light

  “My child,” he answered, “I have an exercise for you to practice. Soon you will grasp this technique and be able to disappear at will. Then you can carry on your ministry unseen by enemy eyes.” Boris’s eyes twinkled. He was delighted to have such an eager student. He remembered his happy days as a university professor, standing in front of a classroom, looking into all the bright eyes of students seeking truth and knowledge.

  “Begin with a prayer,” he instructed me. “Thank God for honoring you by placing you here where the need is so great.”

  “I have committed my life to serve God,” I replied.

  “With this exercise, you will learn to use the power of your mind to raise the frequency of your energetic field. You will vibrate at a frequency beyond the range of human sight. To begin, command the molecules of your body and surrounding aura to spin in a counterclockwise direction. Become familiar with the sensation so you do not become disoriented. Then increase the speed of the spin. When the acceleration reaches its peak, you will feel lighter, almost like you can float away.

  “This practice requires total concentration. Do not lose your focus for an instant. This is a warning: stay calm at all times. Do not allow yourself to be triggered by emotional reactions. They can sabotage your mission. Sudden changes, fright, and anger can upset your mental balance. One moment of lapse in attention is all that is needed for your energy to formulate into an image that can be seen. Do not allow emotional vulnerability to set the stage for your downfall.”

  During the final years of his life, Boris worked diligently to develop those psychic abilities he had previously scorned due to his intellectual arrogance. He taught me how to control and direct energy so my work would be more effective. He showed me how to create shields around my body as a form of psychic protection. He taught me the practice of merging, as his astral presence blended with my physical form. If anyone looked in my direction, they saw a haze where I was standing.

  He masterminded a repertoire of diversionary tricks to fool the guards, to distract attention and deflect observation, so that I could not be seen or recognized. By mental projection, he sent thoughts and visual images into the minds of onlooking guards to divert their attention. At times he would create a disturbance behind them so they would turn their heads away from me.

  While I was doing healing work in other parts of the camp, Boris used mental projection to cover my absence. At my barracks, he sent visual images of my physical self to several of the women at once. Under the night sky I sneaked back to my bed and woke up with the others.

  The Test

  THE CAMP WAS SITUATED in the countryside of southern Poland. Many of the nearby farms were abandoned, the fields overgrown with weeds. Wildflowers reclaimed the land. Bees and butterflies savored the sweet nectar of nature’s harvest. Ground squirrels gleefully dug their tunnels, free from the harrow, the disc, and the destructive tools of man.

  A few kilometers north of Auschwitz was an abandoned potato farm. Attached to the eaves of a ramshackle barn was a small hornets’ nest. Weeks earlier Boris had discovered the nest, and now he was ready to use it to its full advantage. Carefully he removed the nest and placed it in a box. He smiled as he anticipated seeing these angry hornets arrive at their destination. He did not worry whether the hornets got angry at him because a ghost cannot be stung.

  With the box nestled under his arm, he entered the pantry room of the officers’ mess and hid the nest in the spice cabinet behind the honey jar. Second duty cook Sergeant Drechsler gasped in surprise as he opened the cabinet door looking for oregano. A swarm of trapped hornets escaped into the kitchen and buzzed around the heads of the soldiers on kitchen patrol.

  “Damn it!” Big brave Nazi soldiers ran out the door like scared chickens chased by a hungry wolf. Seizing this opportunity, Boris rushed into the empty room, grabbed a basket, and quickly began to fill it with potatoes, fruit, sauerkraut, brown bread, and biscuits.

  When he arrived at the rear of my barracks, he was doubled over laughing. One of the soldiers had tripped over a table leg and had landed in the garbage. His blond hair was covered with potato peelings, and his chin was dripping with coffee grounds.

  The Victory of Love

  “PROFESSOR BORIS,” I SAID in earnest. “How do I know God?”

  “Your concepts about the nature of God keep you from knowing Him. God is infinite and cannot be understood by the mind. To realize the Truth, you must give up all your beliefs. To truly know, you must surrender all knowledge. The path of knowledge will not lead you to the Truth. Knowledge is based on the past. Knowing is experienced in the moment, when the mind is still. Knowing takes place in the heart.

  “To know God is to feel His presence in your heart. To know God is to see the beauty of creation. To know God is to recognize your Self in everyone you meet. To know God is to know that you are love.”

  The Truth that I recognized as the voice of my heart reassured me of the ultimate victory of love. I knew that love is invincible because love is the essence of God. Boris spoke to me about the nature of love: “As a minister, you act as the hand of God reaching out to heal humanity. You serve as a channel of divine love in service to the world. The love we feel is God expressed through us. His love sustains all of creation.

  “As a healer, know that love is the most potent of all medicines. Love is the greatest power in the universe, greater than the might of all the armies of the world. Hitler’s rabid assault on humanity will fail. The power of love will win the war by conquering the hearts of mankind.”

  The Limits of the Mind

  “I MUST KNOW THE TRUTH,” I told my mentor. “The Truth is my salvation.”

  “It is your mind that is searching,” explained the professor. “The mind asks endless questions. In its arrogance it pretends to know answers. Realize that nothing can be known by the mind.”

  “Oh, Boris, what you say makes no sense.”

  “The mind is terrified of the unknown,” he continued. “It equates stillness with death and activity with survival. To escape its fear of annihilation, it creates thought after thought in an incessant stream. For the sake of security, the mind builds constructs of belief and edifices of knowledge. It believes that knowledge is power and that the accumulation of knowledge enhances the capacity to survive. Do you see, Natasza? The mind is grasping for something to hold on to. But the Truth is freedom itself. It cannot be captured by the mind.”

  “Do you mean that the Truth cannot be understood by the mind?” I asked.

  “Correct. It lies in the stillness of the depths of the infinite ocean, below the surface mind-waves of thought.”

  “How do I discover the Truth?” I wondered.

  “Dare to meet the terror of death and see what does not die. Surrender to the presence of eternal love in the silence of your heart. Dive deep into the unfathomable mystery, into the heart of all being. Divine grace will bless you. The Truth will meet you there.”

  The Wisdom of Love

  “THOUGHT AFTER THOUGHT, LIKE an incessant stream, my thinking mind goes on and on,” I complained to Boris. “I feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of my mission. My mind is searching for answers, trying to figure it all out. How do I find inner peace?”

  Boris understood my dilemma. “The mind is a warrior god obsessed with survival,” he explained. “Wearing the armor of defense, brandishing the sword of offense, it fights the battle of life. “Who is your master, the mind or the heart?” he asked.

  “My mind is in charge,” I answered. “It is the job of my mind to solve the problems I face. Like a rat racing on a wheel, my thoughts go round and round. What should I do, dear friend?”

  “Let the mind rest. Surrender to love,” he advised me. “When the mind is still, you see the perfection of all things without needing to change anything. Let the wisdom of love be your guide as you do your service for humanity. The heart knows the Truth. Follow your heart.

  “At the core of your being is the spiritual heart. Withi
n a sacred chamber of the heart is a portal opening to all realms and dimensions. Divine love flows through the portal of the heart, bringing the sunshine of love to the world. The heart is the temple of the living God. In the Temple of the Heart, Love and Truth are one.”

  The Voice of God

  DEEP WITHIN THE SACRED center at the core of my being, I felt the living presence of God. His voice caused my heart to move and tremble as He spoke the words of Truth.

  The Truth carried a vibration that I could feel and recognize. I was able to live the Truth in the world because I knew it from within. My union with God was my marriage to the Truth.

  “I speak to you in the silence of the heart,” God said to me. “Seek Me first. See Me in all things. I am always with you, my daughter. I am the One who never leaves.”

  “Dear Father, I am afraid of death.”

  “There is nothing to fear, my child. You are eternal life.”

  “What is the path of humanity?”

  “To know Me.”

  “What is the purpose of life?”

  “To express love. The kingdom of heaven lies within the heart. Unconditional love is the key to open all doors. To love, be true.”

  A New Day

  DESPITE MY OWN SUFFERING and the agony endured by my comrades, deep in my heart I knew a higher truth. I knew that love is the answer, that love is the great healer that will set humanity free. I knew that the infinite power of love could overcome every challenge and heal all errors.

  Through the grace of love, a new day will dawn when the world is reborn, the Day of Liberation of the human spirit. The day will come when the madness ends, when humanity awakens and says “no” to war. A new sun will rise over the land of the free. Godspeed to the Light! No one can hold back the dawn.

  The Source of My Strength

  MONTHS EARLIER, I HAD arrived at Auschwitz a shy and introverted child. The harsh reality of camp life quickened my maturation into adulthood. With the adept coaching of my mentor, I cracked open my shell of fear and emerged a defiant, outspoken rebel.

  My cause was freedom—the liberation of my people. Every cry of woundedness broke open my heart. Every outrage and injustice rekindled the fire of my zeal. My sense of purpose and love for my people gave me the strength to carry on. Living the Truth meant honoring my commitment to God. In divine partnership, I walked the path of my destiny.

  Words of inspiration flashed into my mind to help me rise above the unfolding human tragedy. “Natasza, you must forge a will of iron upon the anvil of your faith. Your faith will keep your spirits buoyant above the undertow of despair.”

  The Sword of Truth

  MY FAITH WAS CHALLENGED by adversity. My will was strong, and that sustained me. I prayed for increasing strength to survive the struggle of the days to come. I prayed for God to intervene on my behalf, to protect me from the force of evil.

  A flash of lightening streaked above me, and a crash of thunder opened up the sky. An angel of Light descended from the realms of heaven. He wore a helmet and armor of gold.

  “I am Michael, warrior angel of the Lord,” he introduced himself. “I fight for freedom and justice. I carry the Sword of Truth.

  “Child of Light,” he said, “God has sent me in answer to your prayers. To those who serve the Great One, He offers a gift of grace. To those who serve in the army of Light, He offers a weapon to fight the Adversary. It is the gift of our Father to the brave ones who dare to speak the truth. Now, raise your right hand to receive the sword,” Michael instructed me. “As you use the sword, a mighty blue flame issues forth, giving you the power of protection. Sparks of blue fire will bounce off the blade when it comes in contact with negativity.”

  “Thank you, bright angel,” I am deeply grateful,” I responded.

  “Wield the sword to cut through lies and deception, to conquer ignorance and evil. All who use the sword amplify the vibration of Truth in the world. Spiritual warriors uphold the Light,” Michael declared. Holding up his flaming blue sword, he proclaimed:

  Victory to the Light!

  Victory to the Truth!

  I held with love the Sword of Truth, a gift of grace from God. I took a stance to wield the sword, to stand up for the truth. I felt a fierceness of purpose, a fearlessness and sense of power. I was ready to battle agents of evil over who controls the Truth. I was ready to confront the forces of Darkness. I was ready for what lay ahead. Someday I would meet the Commandant. We would fight a duel with words. My sword would empower my words of Truth, to blaze forth at the midnight hour.

  Magdalena

  COMFORTING THE DYING BECAME the bedrock of my ministry. To understand the process of passing over, I was invited to witness the death of an old gypsy woman.

  As the first rays of dawn’s light filtered through the dusty windows of my barracks, Boris’s transparent image appeared at the foot of my bed. “Wake up, Natasza. Come with me,” he beckoned. “Let us go now to meet Magdalena.”

  Ever so quietly, I tiptoed down the center hallway, opened the door, and walked out into the cool mist of the morning. Boris walked next to me. As he merged his astral field with my physical substance, I became invisible.

  Our crow allies awaited us. Ten black crows stood in a row on the roof ridgeline of barracks 14. Their black feathers glistened, reflecting the shimmering light of the rising sun. As we walked below the bird overseers, a scout crow flapped his wings and took off. Flying a short distance to the northwest, he landed on the roof of a barracks, designating the spot where Magdalena lay below.

  Her time of transition was near. Her pulse was weak and her breathing shallow. A beatific smile graced her pale and wrinkled face. A halo of opalescent light surrounded her head and shoulders. She emanated sublimity and peace. I was amazed to see an angelic side to death. I had believed that death was a painful tragedy to be feared and dreaded. Now I realized a higher truth—that for souls that are ready, death is welcome. The imprisoned spirit is eager to break free from bondage to the flesh. The gypsy’s soul soared free like a bird gliding through the air.

  During the days of my childhood my parents had shielded me from harsh reality. In family discussions the subject of death was considered taboo. No one before Boris had dared to show me that there were many faces to death, just as there were many paths to walk in life. Boris knew death intimately because he was a ghost. His spirit was alive in the astral world, the next step beyond our reality.

  My ghost mentor explained, “Observe the difference between natural death, such as with Magdalena, and sudden death, death that was not prepared for. The multitude of souls that I carry on my shoulders died suddenly. They are still in shock and do not realize that they are dead. Rather than entering the realms of Light, they have become earthbound. They would be wandering about in confusion if they had not attached themselves to me.”

  The Bedside Angel

  FROM THEN ON, IN my work at the camp, I was aware of the needs of the soul as it made its transition. As I listened to the whispered words of the dying, my heart of compassion opened and felt their pain. I wept as they told their stories of tragedy and woe. At their behest I prayed for the salvation of lost loved ones. To assuage their fears I assured them of God’s unfailing love.

  Sometimes I sat on the floor beside the bed to hold the hand of a grandmother. Sometimes I sat on the edge of the bed to stroke the forehead of a child. Sometimes I stood at the foot of the bed to pray for a wounded daughter. To those who could not be consoled by words nor comforted by touch, I sang songs that I made up specially for each person. The perfect words came to me as I looked deeply into their eyes. Uplifting melodies gave wings to their spirits.

  I served as a guide for the departing spirit to the realms of Light. I learned to recognize the stages of the dying process, and the release work necessary to free the soul. Boris taught me to identify beliefs and emotions that the dying person needed to let go of. He explained, “Traumatic events cause wounds of the psyche. Rage, terror, guilt, and hatred become l
ike lesions of the psyche, just as boils and abscesses are the lesions of the flesh. They become the baggage that one takes on the journey from this life to the next. They attach to the soul to bring about future learning and karma. You must teach the people about forgiveness,” he emphasized. “Forgiveness heals the heart and frees the soul.”

  Boris nicknamed me “the Bedside Angel.” My comrades called me “the Angel of Auschwitz.”

  PART FOUR

  Healing Apprenticeship

  My Training Program

  STRONG AND ABLE-BODIED ADULTS were hauled off to farms and factories to work as slaves for the Nazi war machine. It was left to the children, assisted by a few of the old women, to take care of the sick and injured.

  As my spiritual mentor, Boris oversaw my ministerial training. Love was the essence of his teaching. He taught me the Divine Law of Love and Unity. “The diseases and afflictions of humanity result from violations of this one basic law,” he explained. “We are all part of one whole. We must call on feelings of love even for those who persecute us.”

  I learned the art of compassionate counseling. “Listen with an open heart,” he advised me. “Be patient, gentle, and kind.” I discovered that the healing power of love was more profound than the wisest words. Forgiveness can heal the wounds of time.