Author: Mariann Uehlinger, Switzerland
http://beam2eng.blogspot.com/2020/08/lucky-me.html?view=classic
“FIGU unauthorized/unapproved translations from German to English”
Lucky me
During a renewed study of the "teaching script for the teaching of the truth, teaching of the spirit, teaching of the life" by Billy, under item 104) 'Does the creational energy cause the human being to wake up again from a coma, i.e. from an unconsciousness?', I came across the following sentence (page 119)
"... The fact that the body, however, reawakens from a coma, is fundamentally due to the fact that the human being mobilizes his/her own subconscious and unconscious energies and powers, i.e. that he/she unconsciously and subconsciously acutely preserves his/her will to live and fights in this wise, in order to live on and thus also to awaken from a coma or out of unconsciousness, unless life-threatening factors prevent this and the human being dies from it. ... "
As I was reading these lines, an event came back into my mind, which occurred about 25 years ago and that might have easily gone wrong . However, in order to tell about it, I must go back a bit and also divulge a few things out of my private 'files of life'.
Elisabeth Moosbrugger – at that time, still Elisabeth Kröger – and I met regularly as of 1982 in my apartment in Dietlikon and from 1985 in Zurich. During one of our meetings – it might have been 1986 – she told me, in 1980 Guido suffered his first heart attack in the classroom (he was a teacher and principal) and thereby wrestled and fought long for his life. (The doctor who was called, unfortunately did not realize that it was a heart attack, and so it was not until the following morning, as he was still feeling bad, when he was brought to the hospital by a neighbor.) "What do you mean by 'he wrestled for his life'? What did he do?", I asked with interest, to which she replied: "He had commanded his spirit, over and over again, to stay with him." That was so obvious to me, that I never again forgot it, because it is indeed clear, when the spirit form/the spirit, the actual spark of life, leaves the body together with the consciousness block, then only the lifeless shell – the corpse – remains behind. (See also "rebirth, life, dying, death and sorrow" by Billy and FIGU Special Bulletin no. 38 'Supernatural, i.e., the fine-fluid-sensual, i.e., fluidal-powers'. http://www.futureofmankind.co.uk/Billy_Meier/FIGU_Special_Bulletin_038) At that time I didn't know how important my question, and especially her answer was for me.
In the summer of 1972, through the business where I worked as a clerk, I got to know a customer – his name was Alfons – with his own autobody paint shop from the Grisons Oberland. Intellectually, we didn't have much in common – but he was a good dancer. Since I wanted to change jobs anyways and found an exciting and independent job in the tourist information office of Flims, I decided to live with him in his home. One Saturday evening, we were just coming back from a Catholic church wedding of his cousin (luckily I didn't understand the sermon spoken in the Rhaeto-Romanic language, but even so, it was still plenty dreadful) followed by dinner on the Grap Sogn Gion, when Alfons got very strong earaches; a middle ear infection was coming on. At my insistence, he called the doctor where I could stop by and pick up some medicine. Of course, I did not specially change my clothes, but went there as I was, dressed festively. I was very surprised by the doctor. I would have never thought that he was the husband of this conceited female doctor who looked after the doctor's office each afternoon and with whom I had already made an unpleasant acquaintance. With his walrus mustache and beard and a head full of dark blond curls, he looked more like an alternative of 1968 than what one generally imagines as such from a doctor. That he was already in his mid-forties, I of course didn't know at that time, because he looked considerably younger. His clear blue eyes looked me over from head to toe through the lenses of his eyeglasses. We chatted for some time, and it seemed to me that he was happy to speak with me. Unfortunately, the drops which he had given me for Alfons, were of little to no use, and so the next day I had to stop by the doctor's office once again. This time I was wearing jeans and I had my hair tied back in a ponytail. The doctor looked me over again and said, "Well, I like this better!" "Aha," I thought – not without a certain well-feeling – "he has but checked me out." On a Thursday afternoon, he suddenly appeared in the Tourist offices and asked me if he could invite me for tea. Although I had a bit of an ungood feeling, I could not however find a suitable or believable excuse, and so I arranged to meet with him. He was a fascinating guy; enormously musical, well-read, educated, artistically gifted, life-experienced and with a sharp intellect. In a certain way we were riding on the same wave, even if he far surpassed me in terms of material knowledge and education. To make a long story short: we began an affair. I folded up my tents in the vicinity of Flims at the end of the 1972/1973 season and returned to the lowlands, this time to Dietlikon. He told only little of his past, among other things about the concentration camp in Auschwitz, which he survived thanks to his musicality, the flight from Hungary to Israel shortly before graduation from medical school and the strange circumstances of his marriage. Apparently, I was quite "his type" in many respects – thus also with respect to intelligence – and, although he had probably been faithful to his wife for less than 5 minutes, he began to be mistrustful of me and jealous in an unpleasant way. This went so far, that, for example, he signed off with me due to illness, only to then appear half-dead two hours later nevertheless, probably just to satisfy his delusion that he could catch me in the act with another man. (Just imagine how it would have been for me, had we, at that time, already had mobile phones and Skype.) Of course, I don't claim to have been entirely innocent for his condition. He was trapped, as it were, in the Oberland and in his marriage – regardless of how much freedom he enjoyed, or rather, took – and his much younger, attractive "object of desire" spent the time in the lowlands – and not always alone.
Even if I have a lot of sense for structure, secret planning and other scorpio-like characteristics, i.e. peculiarities, his extreme Scorpio-mentality, this wanting-to-seize-possession-of-me gave me a hard time and gradually became too much for me. Wolfgang Döbereiner (Heyne Zodiac books, Scorpio) hits the nail on the head with the following words: "... they may fascinate you, you may feel flattered, you may also be impressed by them, to have gotten to know an independent character, but only much later you then realize, that at the same time, you were gradually forged in chains which are no longer so easy to break. ... Furthermore, he knows immediately whether or not you will be a possibility for him ... " A relationship-agony took its beginning. His condition was getting worse in the head, and he began to report to me, even in all seriousness, about telephone calls from my alleged "lovers", who apparently precisely described to him everything that they had done with me. It was sad; but not until he gave me oil paintings that only he liked, did I finally realize that he was planning to settle himself more and more in my apartment, and – startled – I finally pulled the handbrake, i.e. emergency brake. How the relationship-exitus precisely took place, that I astonishingly no longer remember, but it must have been abrupt, because we no longer heard from each other until we met up a good 10 years later through foreordination near my ophthalmologist in Zurich, where – thanks to his Swiss citizenship – he now ran a practice together with his wife in the Nobelquartier of Hottingen. He was slimmer, well-kept and better dressed. As he insinuated, he had undertaken everything upon himself to please me and to be able to win me back at the appropriate moment. So his obsession was still ever present, and even after a brain tumor operation, which he recently had to endure, he hadn't given up on his self-destructive thoughts regarding this. I was not entirely comfortable as I sat alone with him in the doctor's office, and I was accordingly cautious. Somehow I had a feeling that he was capable of killing us both – as a doctor no problem –, so that no one else could "have" me.
From a female colleague whose mother lived in Hottingen and was one of his patients, I learned some time later that he was afflicted by brain tumors once again and was staying at home.
The week before Easter, it might have been 1988, I rode every day by train to Bern to help out my IBM colleagues. Although my back normally aches the most while doing the dishes, I could feel a peculiar constant pain, so that I could hardly sit. I wondered "whether this was due to the many religious fine-fluid-sensual swinging waves so close to Easter, which this time manifested themselves in the back and not in the head?" Then something odd happened. At night, from Holy Thursday to Good Friday, I was blissfully asleep, when all of a sudden a shrill ringing set in, and my bed began to violently shake and vibrate. Thereupon I could feel as if some kind of force was trying to pull something out of me from my feet. My state was like a kind of dream-trance, in which I indeed perceived everything, but did not wake up. At first I gave in to the pulling because it felt enjoyable like floating on a wave of water and I thought of a meditative immersion detached from everything – but suddenly I anticipated danger and quickly pulled myself back. The words of Elizabeth came up, and I ordered to my spirit uninterruptedly, without me worrying about the pulling and fighting: "My spirit, stay with me! My spirit, stay with me! ..." Finally, the pulling, the ringing and vibrating stopped at last. The alarm clock next to my bed, which I looked at afterwards, showed ten minutes past eight o'clock – the danger was definitely over. (If I actually had an alarm clock next to my bed, I can’t remember, but the real time was probably sometime between 11 o'clock in the evening and 3 in the morning.) As mentioned, everything took place in a kind of dream-trance, I really didn't awaken, but in the morning I recalled every detail and also told it to my friend Benno. Even though everything was very strange, I didn't occupy myself further with it. The pain was gone, I was feeling good again, and that was important for me. A few days later, it was perhaps Wednesday of the following week, Benno asked me: "Have you seen the obituary notice in the NZZ (Neue Zürcher Zeitung)?" "No, which obituary notice?" Benno: "Mirko (that was the doctor’s name) died!" Unfortunately, the obituary notice was very brief, so the date was even missing, but what I could find out came through a mutual acquaintance. And in fact, according to a doctor, he had passed away exactly on Holy Thursday. Although they told me a time in the morning, I think the complete death – the biological death – had not taken place until hours later, namely that night in the freezer. Confronted with this information, the eerie experience took on an entirely different danger-potential, and I was enormously happy to have escaped unharmed, because according to Billy it could easily have been possible, that – in the state of agony – the might of the fluidal, i.e. fine-fluid-sensual electromagnetic swinging waves from Mirko, could have been enough to extinguish my spark of life. Nevertheless, he therefore would have almost succeeded after all, in taking me away from all other human beings of Earth and – although an irrational thought – to have me just for himself. – Lucky me!
Translation: Bruce Lulla, USA / Mariann Uehlinger, Switzerland