He was given a commission in the German army, which initially was quite pleasing to him. He saw this as an opportunity to give whatever healing he could to wounded soldiers. However, he wasn’t allowed to stay in that role for long. His new assignment was to examine imprisoned Jews in order to select those who, in his opinion, were fit for manual work.
His instructions were clear – selection or rejection. In the early stages he was unaware of what happened as a result of his decisions. Inevitably, of course, he found out, and his horror was indescribable. Johann went to his superior officer and requested that he be transferred to another post where he could fulfil his medical vocation. He got an unambiguously direct answer: ‘Go back to your post or you’ll be shot as a traitor.’ After much agonising he went back and tried to convince himself that he was doing his patriotic duty – that maybe the authorities had access to information he didn’t, which indicated that Jews were in some sinister ways seeking to undermine the stability of the State. He became as efficient a robot as he could.
The years went by, the war eventually ended, and the extent of the Nazi atrocities began to be revealed to the world. Johann could no longer anaesthetise himself. He sought oblivion and committed suicide in 1947. But, of course, there was no oblivion. He couldn’t get away from himself. The realisation that he couldn’t destroy himself, that he had no choice but to live with himself indefinitely, was the source of the most agonising mental torture for him – a despair that knew no relief.
Margaret Anna took on the task of helping Johann to a point where he could begin to accept, if not to love, himself. The first and most important part of her task was to help him to unburden himself. Johann was racked with guilt, and in his own eyes he was utterly worthless. He felt that he had completely reneged on his vocation and betrayed his profession through his cowardice; he had saved his own life at the cost of many, many others.
In the early stages of their contact, Johann wouldn’t even acknowledge Margaret Anna. But she continued to turn up – sitting silently near him, projecting love at him, just being with him. After some time he began to look at her somewhat furtively. Eventually he asked her what she wanted.
‘Nothing,’ she said. And that was the end of their conversation. They continued to sit silently together.
Margaret Anna didn’t stay with him continuously; she kept coming and going, so that he had long periods by himself. She noticed that, in spite of his resistance, he couldn’t disguise his pleasure when she turned up. He was slowly beginning to enjoy contact with someone else, who was obviously not looking at him with abhorrence, which was how he was feeling about himself.
When she felt that the time was right, she told him that she was with him as a representative of divine love and that she wanted to help him to forgive himself and enjoy being alive and well.
‘How can I forgive myself?’ he asked in torment. ‘You don’t know all the terrible crimes I have committed, all the suffering I have caused.’
‘Yes, I do. I know everything,’ she replied.
After a long pause he asked, ‘And yet you don’t reject me?’
Margaret Anna assured him that he was now in a dimension where he would meet no rejection. Haltingly, he began to talk, to let all his self-recrimination pour out, and she listened. She let him talk away. She could see him observing her, wondering if she was horrified by what he was telling her. As he saw that there was no change in the way that she was relating to him, he became more expansive and there were even occasional glints of humour.
Gradually things evolved to the stage where he agreed to let her take him to meet other souls, who accepted him unquestioningly. He began to allow himself to enjoy their company spontaneously. She no longer has to come and get him. He automatically connects with the group, or with one or more of them, as he wishes.
I wondered about the victims of his selections; would he have to face them? She said that sooner or later it would happen – as it does on earth. What did that mean, I wondered?
Margaret Anna answered, ‘People don’t realise – mercifully – that they’re in frequent, often daily, contact with some who have abused them in some form or another in a previous life or previous lives. The reverse is also true – they may be in contact with people they have abused. It’s never all one-way traffic. Johann may eventually choose to reincarnate into an environment where he will have opportunities to make restitution in some form to one or more of his victims and, through them, to humanity as a whole. That will be his choice. Opportunities other than reincarnation will also be available to him. The main thing is that he’s on his way.’
Souls communicating
I have to confess to interrupting Margaret Anna’s story about Johann. She spoke at length about the conversations they had, and I was curious to know what she meant by ‘talking’ in spirit. She informed me that languages, as we know them, are unnecessary in spirit.
She said, ‘We function through thought transmission.’
Margaret Anna reminded me that in our communication she wasn’t using any words; instead, she was transmitting thoughts to me and I was interpreting them into my words. I now understand that souls can operate at whatever level they wish – using books, words or any other form of communication without limitation. In a way, the idea of books shows how our own communication on earth is limited, and how spirit can transcend that. Margaret Anna says:
‘There will always be writers and books and readers. Suppose you go into a bookshop where there are books in many different languages. If you open a book that is, say, written in Swedish, it will be incomprehensible to you because you have no knowledge of Swedish. Imagine, though, that you have reached a stage at which when you open the Swedish book you automatically understand the Swedish words, although you have never studied the language. It’s hard to grasp from where you’re sitting. We can operate at whatever level we wish. Those who like to use words will continue to do so. It’s not an either/or situation. Limitation of possibilities only applies to your present human thinking. There’s no need to try looking around corners that don’t exist. There’s nothing to stop you having the best of all worlds.’
Visits from unhappy souls
In my individual sessions with people, souls who had committed suicide occasionally came through. Sometimes they were confused because, of course, they had sought oblivion and hadn’t found it. They were just wandering around frequenting old haunts, like public houses or bookmakers’ offices, and trying to talk to people who couldn’t see or hear them, which left them feeling very lonely and frustrated. I would suggest to them that they look for a light that would lead them to a guardian angel who would look after them. I’m glad to say that this usually worked.
Others weren’t confused at all. They had responded to the help that was always available to them from their guides and/or groups, such as Frank’s. Their purpose in coming through was to reassure their loved ones in the physical world that they were fine, and to express their regret for the pain that they had caused them by leaving so abruptly. Those who were left behind, particularly parents, often blamed themselves – and believed that they were somehow responsible for not noticing that there was any problem. Even though it was still difficult for them to get over the pain of separation and, particularly, the awful abruptness of it, they now had the consolation that their son or daughter or friend was alive and well.
I remember one unusual case. A young man who believed without reservation in continuing life was impatient to find out what it was like. He jumped off a wall with fatal consequences for his body. He came through to reassure his mother that he was in good form, except that he regretted that he couldn’t get back the same way that he had left. He would have to go through the whole process of reincarnation again (if, of course, he wished to do so). This was one soul who had not learned the art of patience.