naorma
The Living Force
During the last 3 times when we were doing this daily reading in the EE session group I felt a growing unwellness inside. Last Monday I mentioned it and continued to think about it and why it suddenly affected me so much.
The pictures that rose in myself were war pictures of human bodies lying around and a very desperate and horrible feeling. The next was: I remembered my father who was in WW2 as a soldier. He never talked about his war situations. It must have been horrible. I read a lot of books that described being in war and was watching war movies and I also found some postcards from my uncle in which you could see the despair – although they had to pass censorship.
My father was a member of NSDAP but regretted it deeply. The sentence he said was “it was horrible to lose the war, but it was more horrible to think what would have happened if we had won the war.” He was obviously one of the blindfolded people who thought they could make a better world with joining this ideology and probably having blinders on. I have been reading a lot of books from authors of the time between WW1 and WW2 because I wanted to understand how people could fell in this trap.
My father regretted his engagement deeply and I think this envolvement broke his neck (mentally). As long as my memory goes back he was always taking some calming down pills like valium. He was not a very good father to me because of this and a lot of other problems he had inherited from his family.
Nevertheless, there were some gifts he had to give: Love to nature, love to reading books and to language itself (I was not allowed to read Mickey Mouse, i.e. because he thought it would damage my ability for speaking a good language) as well he was able to make a lot of jokes, being funny and even telling and inventing stories when we were walking through the countryside. I think we both – my younger brother and I – inherited this ability and so there is always a good deal of laughing when our family meets.
During a session with Bert Hellinger one afternoon “father” was on the agenda and I had a very deep experience. We had to make an exercise with a partner and I found myself marching and marching (I was really making steps), having a big backpack on my shoulders in a field of distortion, mud all around but always marching and marching and marching, feeling despair, hopelessness but also humor in that column of soldiers I was walking .
First I was not quite sure whether what I had felt were my feelings so I asked my partner whether her father had been in war and when she said no I knew it was my story.
At the end of the session we were all encouraged to sing along with the song “Oh mein Papa”. I did it with all my voice and intense feelings, everybody was looking at me, I did not care, tears were running over my face and I was so thankful to my father that he survived and gave us the gift of humor although in the background there must have been dispair. He did the best he could do for us. This was a very healing process and helped me to find an inner peace with my father. (This happened some years after his dead).
All this came up again. The reason might be that around this time of the year my father had died. It is more than 20 years ago, but in my family we always seem to think of our parents resp. grandparents on her birth- or dying days. Not on purpose, it just happens. And my brother as the keeper of the schedule would remind us and then we know why.
I had to tell this story because it burnt on my soul and I enclose the link to the song that was so very healing for me.
It is from a movie called “Feuerwerk” (1954) that goes back to a theatre play called “Der schwarze Hecht (1939)” and has something to do with a circus of course.
This is the translation for the non German speakers.
Oh, I could tell you so much about my dad.
He was a famous circus clown...
Papa like an arrow jumped up on the rope
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
He spread his legs very wide apart
Jumped up in the air and stood on his hand
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
He laughed ha, ha - ha, ha
And did ha, ha - ha, ha
Whole gently ha, ha - ha, ha
And shouted: eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp !
He rode on the rope and shouted to me
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
He could do that twelve times without a kite
he laughed and he never got scared
♪ Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp ♪
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
Eh la hopp, eh al hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
O my papa, was a wonderful clown
O my papa, was a great kinstler
Up on the rope, how wonderful he was to look at
O my papa, was a handsome man
Ei how he laughs, his mouth they be so wide and red
And his eyes shine like diamonds
O my papa was a wonderful clown
O my papa was a handsome man
a handsome man
a handsome man
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
The pictures that rose in myself were war pictures of human bodies lying around and a very desperate and horrible feeling. The next was: I remembered my father who was in WW2 as a soldier. He never talked about his war situations. It must have been horrible. I read a lot of books that described being in war and was watching war movies and I also found some postcards from my uncle in which you could see the despair – although they had to pass censorship.
My father was a member of NSDAP but regretted it deeply. The sentence he said was “it was horrible to lose the war, but it was more horrible to think what would have happened if we had won the war.” He was obviously one of the blindfolded people who thought they could make a better world with joining this ideology and probably having blinders on. I have been reading a lot of books from authors of the time between WW1 and WW2 because I wanted to understand how people could fell in this trap.
My father regretted his engagement deeply and I think this envolvement broke his neck (mentally). As long as my memory goes back he was always taking some calming down pills like valium. He was not a very good father to me because of this and a lot of other problems he had inherited from his family.
Nevertheless, there were some gifts he had to give: Love to nature, love to reading books and to language itself (I was not allowed to read Mickey Mouse, i.e. because he thought it would damage my ability for speaking a good language) as well he was able to make a lot of jokes, being funny and even telling and inventing stories when we were walking through the countryside. I think we both – my younger brother and I – inherited this ability and so there is always a good deal of laughing when our family meets.
During a session with Bert Hellinger one afternoon “father” was on the agenda and I had a very deep experience. We had to make an exercise with a partner and I found myself marching and marching (I was really making steps), having a big backpack on my shoulders in a field of distortion, mud all around but always marching and marching and marching, feeling despair, hopelessness but also humor in that column of soldiers I was walking .
First I was not quite sure whether what I had felt were my feelings so I asked my partner whether her father had been in war and when she said no I knew it was my story.
At the end of the session we were all encouraged to sing along with the song “Oh mein Papa”. I did it with all my voice and intense feelings, everybody was looking at me, I did not care, tears were running over my face and I was so thankful to my father that he survived and gave us the gift of humor although in the background there must have been dispair. He did the best he could do for us. This was a very healing process and helped me to find an inner peace with my father. (This happened some years after his dead).
All this came up again. The reason might be that around this time of the year my father had died. It is more than 20 years ago, but in my family we always seem to think of our parents resp. grandparents on her birth- or dying days. Not on purpose, it just happens. And my brother as the keeper of the schedule would remind us and then we know why.
I had to tell this story because it burnt on my soul and I enclose the link to the song that was so very healing for me.
It is from a movie called “Feuerwerk” (1954) that goes back to a theatre play called “Der schwarze Hecht (1939)” and has something to do with a circus of course.
This is the translation for the non German speakers.
Oh, I could tell you so much about my dad.
He was a famous circus clown...
Papa like an arrow jumped up on the rope
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
He spread his legs very wide apart
Jumped up in the air and stood on his hand
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
He laughed ha, ha - ha, ha
And did ha, ha - ha, ha
Whole gently ha, ha - ha, ha
And shouted: eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp !
He rode on the rope and shouted to me
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
He could do that twelve times without a kite
he laughed and he never got scared
♪ Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp ♪
Eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
Eh la hopp, eh al hopp, eh la hopp, eh la hopp
O my papa, was a wonderful clown
O my papa, was a great kinstler
Up on the rope, how wonderful he was to look at
O my papa, was a handsome man
Ei how he laughs, his mouth they be so wide and red
And his eyes shine like diamonds
O my papa was a wonderful clown
O my papa was a handsome man
a handsome man
a handsome man
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
) and said: "I never am proud of anything! Either its good or bad! No need to be proud of anything! Never!!"
