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April 21st

Around this time in April I feel a bit odd ever since I started having memory recall of my life as Manfred.  And for those of you who don’t know who Manfred was – I was a Prussian, aka German, pilot during the First World War.  I was essentially shot down on this day of April in 1918.  The  difficult parts about this death is that the history books do not record it correctly, I did not complete my mission, and I missed out on having a happy life with most most recently wed to bride.  History also does not record that either.  Although I do know that I was married in Bavaria and know the marriage number.  They won’t release a copy of the certificate.

Disturbing photo to see oneself dead even though it was long ago in the past.

Disturbing to see a photo of oneself dead even though it was long ago in the past.

So the history books show or speculate that I was shot down and died, but the truth of the matter was that the plane got hit as well as my right elbow and I was forced to land.  I was injured but I survived only to be shot in the back by three men dressed in what I believe were French uniforms.  This is curious because supposedly there was not supposed to be French troops in the area at the time where I crash landed the plane near a row of large bushes.  I was waiting for enemy troops to arrive, so I was looking in the direction I was expecting them, which was opposite of where these guys came from.  Yes, I was nervous and a bit scared since ground troops had a bad reputation for treating pilots on both sides poorly.  As aviators, who understood the dangers of aerial combat – we often tried to get to our “prey” before the ground troops did.  These assholes who came out of the bushes basically shot at an unarmed man who was waiting to surrender.  I dived down to the ground hence the strange placement of the wounds in my body – the experts never consider this option – and I proceeded to lie on the ground while my attackers came over and kicked at me.  I think they kicked me in the face as well as other places.  Curiously, the last person I saw while alive was the kindly face of a dark haired man who I believe was Scottish.

Then there is the mission, which I have no proof of what so ever.  Kaiser Wilhelm wanted to end the war and he needed someone to take a message to the other side.  My memories of the conversation with him are still somewhat repressed probably because they don’t match what we have been taught during this lifetime, but he wanted the war to end.  For some reason he felt that he could not trust someone within his own advisory group.  I don’t think he knew who it was.  It was like someone or a group of people were working against him.  He wanted the war to end as a stalemate.  He wanted the Americans to help – not to win the war –  but make it end.  I was given documents and money, which the historians have mentioned in books, but the documents from the Kaiser have not surfaced except a friend came across some special items in one of the universities in England.  She did not know what she had come across and then suddenly these documents were hidden away from access.

I think very fondly of the men in this photo.  I was proud to fly with them.  My former self - Manfred - is seated in the plane.

I think very fondly of the men in this photo. I was proud to fly with them. My former self – Manfred – is seated in the plane.

Part of the arrangements to get me safely behind enemy lines was coordinated with an old military group that had gone underground several hundred years ago and did not have any allegiances to any government or religious group.  Their role in the war was to save the lives of the innocent and try to get the war to end.  Their members were amongst the nationalities that were involved in the war.  Unknown to me several of my pilots were members of this group and they may have been considering me as a possible ally or new member.  At least I would have hoped they would have had me on the list to consider for membership.  I believe that Roy Brown and the pilot that I pretended to chase after were either members or sympathetic to their mission.  They were to act as an escort.  Unfortunately the ground troops got involved in our little show and my plane was damaged along with my right elbow.

Lastly, my marriage to Werner Voss’s younger sister Margret was not to be enjoyed this lifetime.  It is something that I regret.  I finally found someone who was right for me.  This is also a point of contention with the historians.  I even had one say to me that he did not care if what I wrote to him about was the truth – he was going to publish and write what he wanted to say regardless of what really happened.  This hits me to the very core of my being in that I think that professionals should uphold a higher standard.  They should do what is right.  Historians are supposed to be preservers of the past, of what really truthfully happened, and not what someone wants to say what happened.  We learn nothing from those kind of lies.

Yes, I am idealist.  And everyday I look in the mirror and wonder why I should remain one.

Intense week for WWI recall

A friend with past life recall had a dream the other night about the First World War….

He emailed me thinking that it was such an awful dream hoping that it is was just a bad dream and not a memory.  He dreamed that a French speaking military force destroyed a French speaking village (that had a different accent) and that the villagers came to us – the German airfield for help.  I know that accidents do occur in war time, but he assured me that it was done on purpose with great malice.

Then I started to have the memory flashes.

An overcast day – it’s hard to tell what time it is – I feel like I am standing next to one of the buildings at the airbase and am looking westwards and people are showing up.  There is a perplexed feeling in my mind as this is something I have not experienced before.   I see a man about late forties with salt and pepper hair – lots of white – with a thick mustache wearing civilian clothes, dress pants, dress shirt,  a vest, no jacket and he tells me something and pointing in the direction of where I am looking.   I can see in the distance fields and canal systems, some rows of bushes along the small canals – these are for irrigation – and the guy is telling me something and I see a teenage light haired female in a light colored dress that is not long and she is walking this way with something in her arms and she looks miserable and dirty.   And there are others… They all look like they are covered in light dust.

They are akin to zombies covered in dust and the emotional feeling from them is despair and extreme shock.  As a commander of a military base that is supposed to be their enemy in this conflict – I am perplexed as to what to do.  These are civilians.  These are just regular people that have been attacked by forces that are supposed to be on their side – whatever that means.  There is often a feeling that the war doesn’t make any sense, and this certainly is one of those situations.

I shared this description with my friend and it matches what he recalls.  He recalls going immediately to the village to help find survivors.  He took a rifle and found a small enemy force there committing atrocities to the villagers.  He said that he eventually ended up in hand to hand combat with some of these enemy soldiers.  (He had been Karl Emil Schaefer and certainly had a reputation for being a man of action.)

I later asked another friend who was my younger brother, Lothar, during the war and was also a pilot under my command if he recalled any such situation to which he replied that it occurred more than once.

Today, my friend who used to be Emil, did some research and did find references to towns and villages being completely destroyed during WWI.  We think it was one of the villages near the Douai or Roucourt base – I don’t recall the names so much as what it looked like and I have not found many pictures of the bases during the time.  He found a list of destroyed villages during the war and there were two names that rang a bell with me, but that does not mean they were the village in question.  Louvemont-Côte-du-Poivre  and Beaumont-en-Verdunois were the two places listed that rang a bell.  I had originally thought that it had been a village in Belgium.

It is at moments like this that I really wish reincarnation was more fully accepted and that we could do some serious research work based upon what we are recalling.  So many of us with real legitimate memories could offer clues about the past and work with archeologists, anthropologists, and historians to discover hidden and lost events of the past.  It’s all in my head – there are times when I wish I could simply show it to people like a film.

One of my goals is to document some of these past life memories for future generations to examine.  Just because people have closed minds now does not mean that future generations will be as such.  In the past 20 years I have seen people go from the attitude that there is no thing such as ghosts to let’s try and document these ghost experiences and understand what they really are.

Downton Abby from a Past Life Perspective

I have really enjoyed the BBC series Downton Abby.  The clothing, the technology, the furniture, the architecture, the lifestyle, and the attitudes are all so familiar and comfortable to me.  We have so many wonderful things now, but we have lost so much in this past 100 years.  I could so easily walk into that world as Manfred or Siegfried although it is set in the U.K., which was I think somewhat more repressive or perhaps more restrictive than Europe.  Especially for women.   And as Manfred or Siegfried I’m not really sure I even thought about how women lived and what they could and could not do.  We all had rules that we had to live by and that was the way things were.

What strikes me as being so familiar about the lifestyle of the Lord and Lady Grantham and their immediate family is how they lived.  Taking time to go for walks on the property, horseback riding, sitting with family and guests for tea, meals, and after dinner conversation, so much of this is lost.  While Manfred did not live as a British Earl of the time, he did have a very nice home and a title that afforded him the ability to have doors opened to him.  Siegfried on the other hand was high nobility and lived on a hillside castle manor house with huge grounds that included a private lake and a house full of servants, so my experiences there may be more akin to the Downton Abby story, but Manfred was alive during the first part of the series unlike Siegfried who lived about 60 years earlier.

Another familiar aspect of the life during the time period of the Downton Abby series is the commitment that people made towards their personal honor.   I find that so lacking now.  Honor and personal pride is not just for the upper classes and their high social circles and grand living, it is how a man or woman takes pride in the things they do and the way they are in the world.  It is important for the household staff to be dressed sharply and be professional for themselves as professionals.  Their position seems demeaning or meaningless to outsiders but to them they are professional housekeepers, butlers, footmen, maids, valets with a code of ethics and a standard of performance.  They do not wish to have one among them that sullies their reputation or ruins the morale of their team.  I often think that modern Americans take a snobby and somewhat ignorant attitude towards these hard working souls.  I think that most Americans take an uninformed attitude towards the nobility as well.  I was a nobleman as Manfred and Siegfried, and I do not ever recall lording over others my status or title unless it was absolutely necessary.  That sort of pretentious behavior was rarely ever required or desired.  We all had a role to fill just as Lord Grantham reminds his future heir that if he suddenly deemed his valet to be obsolete that he would be denying that man his trade in life.  Sometimes so called high ideals can be very costly to the people that they are meant to assist.

Another aspect that I notice is the great change in women from the past to the present.  And I am not trying to be mean here, but I think the women of the past often seemed more feminine and beautiful.  It’s not that modern women are not sexy, but something is very different and it’s somewhat sad like they have lost something.  I am not completely sure of what that was or is.  I recall from my past all sorts of women who had varying degrees of personality traits with some being very bold and intelligent and others shy and somewhat naive, but both kinds retained this unknown quality from the past.  Perhaps modern women are less focused or are more stressed than their earlier counterparts.  In these times women are expected to be mothers, be fashionable, obtain a higher education, be successful, and obtain a money earning occupation while doing all of the aforementioned tasks.   Do modern women truly have any time for friendship?

For that matter do modern men of this so called western culture have time for friendship?  I think we live in very lonely times despite all our technologies for rapid communication.  Perhaps this is the quality of life that I see so desirable in the Downton Abby series.  These people make time to spend quality time with each other and do not dash off to make a cell phone call, text during a meal, or ignore another while chatting or playing games on a computer.  I guess I must be anachronistic.

Rittmeister © 2012

For more information about the BBC Series Downton Abby click here.

Past influence the Present

Does the past influence the present?  And if so how much does it affect the present?  More research has been done concerning past life experiences and present day maladies such as strange irrational phobias that do not seem to be centered in any present day experience.   I have seen reference to psychologists doing past life regression or hypnosis to discover possible roots for unusual fears or concerns.  And I think this effort is not wasted time.   I have an extreme dislike for walking in the mud to the point where I will walk around it or completely avoid it by not continuing on a pathway.  I had somewhat assumed that this attitude was me just being fussy about my clothes, but the origins of this dislike goes to a situation in a past life where I had to walk into the mud to retrieve proof of victories.

“Mud in Your Eye” by James Dietz from http://odeclonje.tumblr.com/ website.

As Manfred I had to prove at times that a victory was mine, which meant either capturing (or saving from the ground troops) the pilot and or getting a piece of the downed plane.  Often the poor pilot would land or crash in some god forsaken area like No Man’s Land, which was an area void of vegetation and any kind of life.  The ground was turned and churned into a thick muck littered with war materials some of which would be corpses of men and animals.  An unpleasant experience of sinking into the wet soil that would have sickening crunches that one could never know was a tree branch or a bone.  The smell was often moldy or swampy and then occasionally acrid with the stench of flesh rotting.  And to make matters worse, it seemed as if the Earth did not want to allow one to proceed or escape from its clutches as if it wanted to make you a part of the loathsome vastness of No Man’s Land.

It brings a grimace to my face just thinking about it.  And generally, once you arrived at your destination, you would find the remains of another soldier much like yourself in a mangled condition.  It was hard to force that image and reality away to be able to do what must be done.  And yes, sometimes we found living pilots and observers in their wrecked planes.  If they were really lucky, then they were not too injured and could be escorted back to the airbase.  In more difficult situations, one might find themselves having to decide if euthanasia was the best way to handle a situation.  No warrior wants to sit for hours in pain waiting to die.  I don’t think I ever had to euthanize any of my aerial victories.

But I digress from the topic at hand, which is does the past affect the present.  I think the answer is yes based upon my own experiences.  I now know why I react the way I do to mud.  And I can respect that reaction even though it may seem a bit irrational for this current lifetime.  Understanding how the past can affect the present is very useful whether it is used to treat some sort of so called malady or using experience to find inspiration for a present lifetime.

A common poor landing. For some reason many biplanes were very nose heavy – especially the Tri-Fokker!

I have often wished that I had been able to realize sooner that I had past life memories.  I think it would have been an asset during my undergraduate years.  I think it would have given me focus and drive, and I would have not wasted so much time on irrelevant things and people.  I think my direction in life and strengths would have been much clearer and would have acted as a guide for me to explore what I could do with the present.   I can look back and see the clues were there but I was ignoring them because of the current popular social norms concerning reincarnation.  At least now I am more mature and not so easily a victim of other peoples’ values and I can enjoy and benefit from being me.

Typical devastation of the landscape after a battle. No trees, mud, stagnant water, no animals, no vegetation, corpses, and left over war materials.

Hello world!

This is a temporary hello while I get my thoughts together…..  You can visit my website – http://www.rittmeister.org if you just can’t wait for something interesting to be replaced with this dull lifeless introduction.

So if I have a website, why have a blog?  Because the website is not a discussion place but an archive of memories shared without explanation.  I don’t try to urge you to believe me or the others.  We are sharing what we recall on the website, and the blog is a more in depth expression of what happens when one has past life memory recall.