You wouldn't understand
You're asking the wrong questions
You couldn't understand
It is very curious how this thing of past life mood works. I suppose the experience varies slightly for each person. For me, now, it is somewhat different to how it was when I started to remember past lives. Well, at the beginning I didn’t even know it was past life mood, as I have explained many times. Then, it all virtually came at the same time, as if we were in the spring thawing and the torrent flows down from the mountains, impetuous, threatening with sweeping away mansions and bridges. At that time I was in past life mood almost continuously, either because of one life, or another one. Now the same feeling comes back. I feel weird but I don’t know why. I identify some emotion but I know there is no reason to feel like that for anything that has occurred to me in my present life. So I try to find a moment for myself: it may be meditating, doing reiki or doing yoga. And somehow I feel how the energy suddenly flows, how those emotions become stronger (the torrent again), for a short while, and then everything calms down once more. Now it also takes away a physical pain like the rigidity in my neck or a psychological issue like anxiety.
The last time it happened to me it was at the end of a yoga session. I had been blocked for a few days but the emotions didn’t quite come out. It was hard for me to express my feelings. This is what I wrote three days ago:
After being all day writing, I started to do yoga, and at the end of the session I felt a strong shift in the energy, a small unblocking that brought me a lot of emotions, now clearer. While I was having dinner, I couldn’t get out of that past life mood. I was again feeling that time had stopped in those months of anxious waiting after knowing the sentence, when I had no hopes left to come out alive like the first time.
The main emotion is rage, of course, that rage that makes you shout to everyone and brings tears to your eyes. It is rage from pure frustration, from pure impotence, but also from a deep grief you carry inside that you can’t express in any way and so it becomes anger. That is to say, it originates in pain, but it is long since that pain in encysted and it is already a black hole in your soul that makes you commit violent actions like killing people. For years it was a pain that gnawed at me, very few people knew about it, and the few that knew forced me to shut up. That was at the beginning, as later on, when I had to hide away and adopt another identity, I had no other option but bury that past. I usually say I myself killed that young and innocent woman I was at first. In the first trial the abuse might have been a mitigating circumstance, in the second it was nothing, as that past belonged to another woman whom the others thought was not me.
It is also rage for believing it was all a great injustice, and my rebel side fought to get out, but I could do nothing because the system was set in a way in which women didn’t matter at all. How was it possible that after all I had suffered, it was me who was getting killed? How was it possible none of the men that had mistreated me was going to pay for what they had done, while I was about to get lynched because of a simple suspicion I had killed my husband?
Well, today, with what I know, I can understand a bit better. The problem is that back then no one cared about what I had to say about the abuse. It was a secret you took to the grave, just as happens today with suicide. There were people that did listen to me, but they could do nothing, and confessing the abuse was totally useless, it was “the norm” in a married couple, if you left home because your husband mistreated you, on top of that you were accused of abandonment of domicile. The silence still weighs today, the solitude too. It is as if I am still locked up within four walls getting mad with the passing of time, gazing at those men that approach me as if I am a monster, without even daring to ask like that doctor who cured my broken ribs, as if they fear to acknowledge they are the ones who created the monster with their damn patriarchal system. I feel the desire to shout at them: “What did you think I was going to do? Stay still in a corner licking my wounds? Keep harming myself until I provoke my own death?”
But, despite all the rage and impotence, they had the power, and one of those judges insisted I had to die in the gallows. I wish my ghost haunted him for the rest of his life.
Almost 160 years later, the patriarchal system remains in force. Feminists have advanced a little in the last hundred years, but there are still many things to do. If you learn something remembering past lives, is that the world never changes quick enough. Not for the women, not for the animals, nor for anyone. Maybe because one of the most common attitudes is: “Me? Why am I going to change? The others should change first...”
Heading for the great escape
Heading for the rave
Heading for the permanent holiday
Heading for the winter trip
Heading for the slide
Heading for the dignified walk away
Heading for the open road
Goodbye to all that
Heading for the automatic overload
Standing in the open boat
Standing in the swing
Waiting for the ringing and the bright light
Waiting to be recognised
Quiet applause will do
They shower you with flowers when they bury you
You're holding on, you're holding on ...
I. The Last of You
Just when I thought I'd seen the last of you
You come here scratchin' at my door
Your pain and anger's in the howling dark
Of every corridor I walk
So tell me more about the love that you rejected
Tell me more about the trust you disrespected
I still don't know, why did you hurt the very one
Why did you hurt the very one
That you should have protected?
II. Falling from the Moon
Don't ask me why I'm doing this
You wouldn't understand
You're asking the wrong questions
You couldn't understand
A bridge is not a high place
The fifty-second floor
Icarus would know
A mountain isn't far to fall
When you've fallen
When you've fallen from the moon
There's murder on the street
I'm ashes on the water now, somewhere far away
I have fallen, fallen from the moon