KORONA-AUSSCHUSS DEL 28 MAGGIO 2021

ELENCO DI TUTTE LE TRADUZIONI DELLA 54° SESSIONE
https://corona-ausschuss.de/

Cari lettori del Gruppo Rebis, a continuazione vi presentiamo una serie di link dove troverete alcune registrazioni audio che riassumono i contenuti di una serie di sedute live tenute dal Comitato Tedesco per il Corona Virus per indagare i motivi per cui sono state imposte diverse restrizioni dal Governo Federale e dalle Regioni Tedesche, e le conseguenze che ciò ha avuto, e tuttora ha, per i cittadini.

Le traduzioni sono a cura di Paolo Genta, componente attivo del Gruppo Rebis, che ringraziamo per questo egregio lavoro e per l’impegno profuso.

Presenti: Avv. Reiner Füllmich, Avv. Antonia Fischer, Avv. Viviane Fischer – Foro di Berlino

Intervista al Dott. Wolfgang Wodarg: inutilità-inefficacia-pericolosità dei vaccini

http://www.wreckdiveliguria.com/downloads/comicost/KoronaAuschsuss280521part1.mp3

Intervista a testimone Frau Ramona Klüglein, assistente a bambini psichiatrici: danneggiata da vaccino per resezione quasi totale di intestino tenue

http://www.wreckdiveliguria.com/downloads/comicost/KoronaAuschsuss280521part2.mp3

Intervista a Frau Bianca Höltsje, dirigente scolastico di elementare in Niedersachsen: vessazioni della comunità scolastica verso contrari al vaccino ai bambini

http://www.wreckdiveliguria.com/downloads/comicost/KoronaAuschsuss280521part3.mp3

Intervista a James Corbett, giornalista investigativo americano e autore di 3 documentari sui Rockefeller, censurati da Youtube: economia della paura e potere delle grandi famiglie nella narrazione pandemica

http://www.wreckdiveliguria.com/downloads/comicost/KoronaAuschsuss280521part4.mp3

Video (English) disponibili su: https://www.corbettreport.com/corbett-report-documentaries/

Intervista a Brian Gerrish, giornalista di inchiesta inglese e public speaker: utilizzo di strategie PNL e psicologia del comportamento per manipolazione di massa in UK

http://www.wreckdiveliguria.com/downloads/comicost/KoronaAuschsuss280521part5.mp3

Intervista a Doc. Astrid Stückelberger, esperta internazionale di politiche sanitarie: i programmi di immunizzazione mondiale della WHO SAGE ROADMAP e l’eliminazione dell’immunità naturale

http://www.wreckdiveliguria.com/downloads/comicost/KoronaAuschsuss280521part6.mp3

Intervista a Doc. Simone Gold, medico americano, attivista e fondatrice di “America’s Frontline Doctors”: offensiva legale internazionale e nuove strategie giudiziarie per fermare la legge americana sulla vaccinazione ai bambini tra 12 e 15 anni, anche senza il consenso dei genitori

http://www.wreckdiveliguria.com/downloads/comicost/KoronaAuschsuss280521part7.mp3

Redazione Gruppo Rebis
Traduzioni a cura di Paolo Genta

Intervista a Fiorella Rustici

Feel your Life, 20 Maggio 2021

Ancora una volta un incontro tra queste due fantastiche donne, ma in questa occasione è stata Michela D’Adamo, nella sua trasmissione Feel Your Life, a intervistare Fiorella in una serata davvero piacevole e interessante, piena di consigli utilissimi da mettere subito in pratica nel nostro quotidiano. Vi consigliamo assolutamente la visione.

Siti consigliati:
fiorellarustici.com e feelyourlife.net

Redazione Gruppo Rebis

Creatore

Creo con la mia mano e le mie dita
Davanti a me ho solo un contenitore
Che ha dentro un solo colore: luce bianca

Immergo le dita e tirandole fuori ne posso disporre.
Quello che rimane nel contenitore non muta, resta luce bianca 

Quello che spargo nello spazio col mio tratto, diventa colore
Creo la realtà
La realtà sono io in una forma diversa di me
Scaturisce dai miei colori e i miei colori hanno origine nella bianca luce

Dentro e fuori non so cosa significhi
Ogni realtà prende forma e colore da una parte di me
Ogni parte di me contiene tutti i colori
E tutti i colori contengono bianca luce.
Cambia il tratto solo perché la mia volontà ha deciso quale colore è quello giusto
che tiene conto di tutta la creazione.
La realtà che creo ha le caratteristiche della bianca luce
In ogni punto di essa sono contenuti tutti i colori
Ogni creatura li contiene tutti
Ognuna di esse è me
Ognuna di esse ha tutto
Ognuna di esse è luce
La gioia la senti quando senti te stesso in loro e loro in te
Non c’è separazione
Loro sono me, io sono loro e noi siamo la bianca luce
Tutto il resto…
Che cos’è tutto il resto?
Questa è la realtà
Questo è quello che creo
Questo è quello che voglio
Questo è quello che sono

Qualcosa è cambiato.
Il gesto non è mutato.
Immergo sempre le dita nel contenitore con la bianca luce.
Attingo sempre dalle parti di me il colore che voglio dare a quella realtà.
La realtà contiene sempre tutto di me.
Ma qualcosa è cambiato.
Non sento più la gioia scaturire dalla mia creazione.
Non sono più io ad essere dentro la realtà
Sento una separazione
Il colore appare lo stesso
Ma lo stesso è diverso
Perché questo avviene?
Vedo solo il colore
Ma non vedo la luce
Non vedo me nella creazione
Perché?
Com’è potuto accadere?
Non sono cambiati i colori
Non sono cambiate le dita
Non è cambiata la mano
È cambiato il creatore!


Perché sono cambiato?

Magia!

Dormo.

E la realtà?
Dormendo ho continuato a creare
Ho riprodotto il mio dormire
Il C-olore è diventato D-olore
Il D-orMire è diventato Morire
È bastato un attimo
Non lo sapevo.
Adesso si!

Lorenzo Ferrante
Blogger Gruppo Rebis

Lilies among the roses

Mystical smiles among the roses.
Within the perimeters of the garden the multiverse expresses its symbols.
Your faith is in the lilies among the roses, my Lord,
the future is in the past and in the caves your pain.

After long searching on the planet of the apes,
gold is in the garden, but Eve ate Your apple.
It is artificial existence, but You immortal being are real.

Here passion and pride gush among the colours of Eden
while frogs sleep and magical shadows weave their plots in the awakened ones.
Here everything is fake.

Narcissus sees the reflection of Merlin in the water,
while the bombs fall on Gaza and the sun dies in New Delhi.
You Immortal Being know that freedom is beyond the fence
and in the search for You I will tune my cry and my song
to the point where justice is unjust,
to the point where love will be free.

The knowledge that dwells in me is the knowledge that dwells in You.

Hear me! I am You.

Alida Sacchi
Blogger of Rebis Group

Translation by Andra Cernat

Gigli tra le rose

Mistici sorrisi tra le rose.
Nei perimetri del giardino il multiverso esprime i propri simboli.
La Tua fede è nei gigli tra le rose mio Signore,
il futuro è nel passato e nelle grotte il tuo dolore.

Dopo tanto cercare nel pianeta delle scimmie,
l’oro è nel giardino ma Eva ha mangiato la Tua mela.
È l’esistere artificiale ma tu essere immortale sei reale.

Qui passione e superbia zampillano tra i colori dell’Eden
mentre le rane dormono e magiche zone d’ombra intrecciano le proprie trame nei risvegliati.
Qui è tutto finto.

Narciso vede nell’acqua il riflesso di Merlino,
mentre le bombe cadono su Gaza e il sole muore a New Delhi.
Tu Essere immortale sai che la libertà è oltre il recinto
ed io nella ricerca di Te intonerò il mio grido e il mio canto
sino al punto in cui la giustizia è ingiusta,
sino al punto in cui l’amore sarà libero.

La conoscenza che è in me è la conoscenza che è in Te.

Ascoltami! Sono Te.

Alida Sacchi
Blogger Gruppo Rebis

Quante volte

Quante volte non mi sono riconosciuto.
Quante volte ho creduto di essere io.
Quante volte ho reagito pensando che la mia forza fosse la violenza e l’aggressività.
Quante volte non ho riconosciuto l’amore intorno a me scambiandolo per debolezza dei poveri.
Quante volte mi sono sentito sicuro nella mia superficialità spacciandola per granitica certezza.


Quante volte ho creduto essere il nemico anemico quella persona o quella situazione che semplicemente mi stava dicendo “guarda che quello che hai fatto è sbagliato”.
Quante volte nella mia stupidità ho cercato di allontanare l’amore che non era quello che io credevo, affermando che la passione vera bisognava viverla fisicamente.
Quante volte ho nutrito il corpo affamando l’anima dimenticando che entrambi vanno nutriti.


Quante volte ho difeso coloro che hanno fatto di me uno schiavo pensando che quella che mi davano fosse la libertà promessa e il mio vivere ideale, ma che poi si sono rivelate delle menzogne maligne.
Quante volte ho creduto nella luce essendo certo fosse appannaggio del successo degli uomini senza pensare che fosse l’impalpabile contrassegno dell’amore di un dio vero.

Quante volte nel cercare di svicolare le responsabilità del mio vivere mi sono rifugiato nel freddo calore della menzogna, identificandolo come un ristoro ma senza riconoscerlo per quello che in realtà era: la mia tomba.
E quante volte non ho ascoltato la voce del mio cuore soffocandola e ritenendola un rumore di fondo fastidioso da silenziare con un pulsante senza nemmeno accorgermi che inconsapevolmente stavo attivando delle mani scure attorcigliate intorno alla mia gola.

Quante volte non mi sono chiesto”ma sto facendo la cosa giusta?” e quello che ho sentito è il silenzio di chi non vuole che tu senta la risposta.
Quante volte sono partito per viaggi avventurosi alla ricerca di parti di me stesso e non mi sono accorto che i compagni che mi portavo dietro in realtà erano dei falsi amici che, vittime anche loro dell’ignoranza, hanno trasformato il mio viaggio in una deportazione comune verso l’inferno.
E quante volte non ho riconosciuto i veri compagni e anch’io mi sono comportato da assassino semplicemente perché non ho saputo riconoscere la leggerezza della loro compagnia e l’esuberanza del loro scopo.

Quante volte sono ritornato dai miei viaggi con dei tesori in tasca e invece di custodirli nel mio cuore li ho ceduti credendo di arricchire altri, oltre me, del dono dell’esperienza e ritrovarmi povero e reietto svuotato di tutto.

Quante volte ho cercato di approfittare di qualcuno senza chiedermi che cosa stessi facendo ritrovandomi a distruggere la comprensione custodita in quell’anima immortale ferendola a morte.
Quante volte ho creduto che fare la cosa giusta fosse sbagliato semplicemente perché sentivo dentro di me un grido di dolore e, credendolo mio, ho desistito dall’azione pensando di soffrirne ancora di più, senza accorgermi che in realtà era il grido delle mie parti scure e parassite che vivevano nell’ombra e che non volevano assolutamente che io portassi dentro di me la luce a illuminare anche loro.

Quante volte ho pensato di smettere di lottare per rifugiarmi nell’eterno riposo pensandolo anche una cosa auspicabile dopo tante fatiche.
Quante volte per paura di morire non ho fatto la cosa giusta senza vedere che così facendo morivo di più.
Quante volte ho fatto tutto questo?
Tante. Troppe.

Arriva il momento in cui il tuo cuore dice: basta, non voglio più soffrire.
Non è più il tempo di essere leggeri e sonnolenti.
Arriva il momento in cui senti dentro di te che la misura è colma e che adesso la finzione è finita.
Arriva il momento in cui le ferite si richiudono e il dolore si lenisce e lasciano il campo alla vittoria.


Se soffri ma non muori o muori ma non completamente ce la puoi sempre fare.
Amore che mi hai guidato da altrove, adesso so, ancor meglio di ieri, che quando decido di elevarmi al rango che è mio e che mi spetta, nonostante “me”, sei ancora lì, capace di perdonarmi e di amarmi.

Dedico tutto questo a Te!

Lorenzo Ferrante
Blogger Gruppo Rebis

Love what are You

Love, what are you? 
I always call you within me.
What mystery are you? 
I would like to unravel it so I can feel you.
What should I do? 
I already know, but it does not come natural yet.
And all that remains is for me to wish
That you manifest yourself through me.
But there must be an effort on my part.
The commitment to myself. 

Then I feel the love emerging naturally 
Within my consciousness.
This happens as an understanding of myself
And then I think of You.
I begin to understand the mystery.
How can I love You if I do not love Me?

Andra Cernat
Blogger Rebis Group

Amore cosa Sei

Amore cosa sei?
Ti chiamo sempre dentro di me.
Che mistero sei? 
Vorrei svelarlo per poter sentirti.
Cosa dovrei fare? 
Lo so già, ma ancora non mi viene naturale.
E quello che mi rimane è desiderare
Di manifestarti attraverso me.
Ma uno sforzo da parte mia c’è.
Il mio impegno con me.

Poi sento l’amore che nasce naturale 
Nel seno della mia coscienza.
Questo accade come comprensione di me
E poi penso a Te.
Inizio a comprendere il mistero.
Como posso amare Te se non amo Me?

Andra Cernat
Blogger Gruppo Rebis

My ancient Self and the awakening in the river

Usually, when I tried to find a meaning for my present and my future, I could not find it. I only observed the turning points found on my way and the directions I had taken without knowing what I would have left on the other side. The unknown. And I wondered what could have happened if I had made a different choice. A life full of regret. In vain. Nothing changed. 

Then, one day, I woke up in a big river. I found myself up against its current, which enveloped me, but the force of the water did not carry me downstream. I was still, surrounded by its whirlpools. Conscious only of the fact that it was a river of pain. It had been beating all over my limbs, and particularly on the face, since a time I could not define, but that I imagined – and felt – to be a very long time. After all, I had been asleep until a few moments before, how could I have known how long I had been there?

The pain, however, I had always remembered. It was striking me, wrapping me, whipping me, trying to drag me along, but I did not move an inch, although I was unconscious.  

From the moment I opened my eyes in the middle of the river, I stopped dreaming. And the pain became conscious. The constant crashing of the water into me, which at worst had made me fluctuate up and down but had never managed to drag me with it downstream, awakened me. I was now floating attentively, in the midst of the swirling Ganges – that is how I felt to call it, though I did not seem to know its name – and the water had acquired a voice and was speaking to me. It told me all the phrases that I had always refused to hear. Its narrative spoke of mistakes, disappearances, incomplete knowledge and endless repetitions. It was hard to listen to and tough to accept. But, since I had woken up, nothing could stop my hearing. I could not fall asleep again at will. I had to stay awake and present. 

The river seemed cruel, with all its clamour. It made me mirror myself, and its crystal clear, bluish waters seemed mean in their ruthless harshness. 

At a certain point, the perspective changed. The current was no longer the one who spoke to me of my misdeeds, my mistakes and accumulated failures. And above all, it was no longer the only one. It was fragmenting, before my eyes and my whole Being submerged in water, into many tiny drops. Each one was a tear. My tear. The river seemed to be made of my old crying, centuries, millennia, hundreds of thousands of years old. Or perhaps more. Every drop a tear, every tear a pain, a memory, an image, a lost companion, a battle ended in defeat, an undiscovered god, a submerged land never to be seen again, a forgotten knowledge, a harbour filled with sand.

My tears seemed to be all I could see and hear. Each of them fragmented my old “I”, and my Ego ended up being destroyed. 

But not everything was as it seemed. Once again, the point of view evolved. The river no longer had only one colour. Alongside the blue flowed purple, yellow, green, red and many other colours that no longer even exist on Earth. Each colour a different lineage of tears. Different from mine, but no less suffering. The river was the cry of many of Us. Who is Us?

I did not know it, yet I felt it. The tears of my Brothers and Sisters were there along mine, forming my environment. The water element was no longer mine alone. The snows of the Himalayas, from which they originated, were common to all of us. And the merciful Earth that enveloped the Ganges witnessed it. The sky above in which I seemed immersed in my floating, which was actually under water as mentioned, looked down on me without diminishing my agony.

And in the pain of the other tears I recognised my travel companions, whom the fire of the Sun was giving birth to from the perennial ice in which suffering had crystallised, melting them into river water, directing them to flow through the earth and under the sky, making them evaporate in it, returning up to the mountains again as matter in the form of snow in a long, eternal return, where everything was unconscious sleep.   

But now, I had woken up. My tears and those of the others were flowing down on me and were no longer unconscious. Their pain now spoke to a more awakened part of me. And they all demanded to be heard. 

Even because, it seemed I was observing a different kind of tear from all the others. It appeared to me as indigo colour. Tears of conscious pain. They too were the result of crying, but inside each one was a question, a “why?” with an answer. Those tears were not caused by sleep, and they spoke to me independently. They were the result of a conscious, humble, long and stubborn work of searching for the waking state, daughters of a project of rebirth that did not appear in any of the other colours of tears.

At that moment I realised that the pain I felt in my unconscious state was twofold, or rather, threefold. There was my own, the deepest because it was unresolved due to my responsibility. A dull pain that only I could have alleviated. Then there was the second one, that of my brothers and sisters, also silent, which hurt me to the extent that I tried, within the earthly bodies in which I lived, to relieve it through paths, projects, philosophies, forms of justice, so as not to look at – in reality – the primary pain, that is, my own. Illusion! I was pretending to help others in order not to help myself, as I was unable to do so. And then there was a third pain, the conscious pain, not mine, but the one that had been speaking to me for some time. The one that, I was sure by now, had woken me up in the middle of the river with its constant insistence.

“There you are,” I said, “now I know you”. “Who are you?” I wanted to ask but did not have the time because the answer was within the question itself. He was the first of Us to wake up. He had asked questions, found answers and, even if he did not want to, his mere existence among us whispered his whys to our unconscious ears. Until we were waking up one at a time. I had confused my own pain with his! I blamed him for making me suffer. For the first time I cracked a smile in the middle of the River.

Short-lived smile. In my tears, drops of the stream, I saw all my knowledge of past times, my defeats, what I had lost of myself believing that I could continue to have it. 

I could see my passing through Tibet, my bodies as Sufis, the Eastern and Western philosophies, the Kabbalah and all Religions, Shamanism, Philosophers, Naturalists and Scientists whose works I had studied with enthusiasm during my lives. I could see my medieval and renaissance past, gnostic or masonic, of learned teachers in European universities or humble monks in Franciscan, Dominican and Benedictine convents. I recognised in each of my earthly transitions a stone of my pavement. Or, rather, a tear of my river. Every life a pain, every pain a failure, every failure a wish of redemption, every wish a created future, a new path, another loss, other attempts and finally, one after the other, the decisions to give up. A descending karma, a destiny of entropy.

I had always believed, in each life, that I could preserve my knowledge, the sources of wisdom that, I told myself, would sooner or later save me from the sadness of the deaths that haunt our short lives inside human bodies. But it had never happened, I realised now from where I was, in the middle of the River.

I had always wanted to hold the river, my tears, my lives, and yet all were torn away from my hands. Karma has never forgiven me. It is therefore time, as I observe from my place in the River, that I learn to do it myself. That I gather my tears and look them in the eye, the ones that flowed from my eyes. That I wrap my suffering in the water flowers that the River creates as it flows downstream. That I accept to travel the River along its Earth banks to the Sea, up to the Sky, down in the form of snow in the White Himalayas of the Brothers who have cried so much with me, and that in all this I accept to see my transformations, creating Love for all that I am and have been, Love that for this very reason is absence of Everything.

Friends, Brothers and Sisters, and You, who first awakened, now I know what the River in which we all flow is made of.

Zvetan Lilov
Blogger Rebis Group

Translation by Andra Cernat

Life is a Moment

Renowned novelists and poets have always been telling it and famous expressions such as “carpe diem”  have remained in our memory, often unfortunately to remind us when we missed that moment,  as clear as it is intangible.

If it so clear, why do we fail in seizing it and bringing it to life? I’ll tell you my thought and my experience.

Life is a string of single moments and each single moment generates the future we will live in. Our choice or non-choice in each single moment causes what we will be or will not be in the future. Every transition from one condition to another, from a dimension to another is a moment, the point of union or separation between two conditions of existence.  Death, too, is a moment, i.e. the last moment of our human life.

Our personal and genetic memory therefore contains thousands of moments forming chains of memories, each of them made of emotions, thoughts and experiences, some of them positive some other negative. However, every experience, no matter how long it is, originated from its first moment.

Before it becomes a fragment of the experience of our life, that moment is out of time and out of space. It is a moment of comprehension, the comprehension of the transition from one condition to another; the moment when our Essence can see both conditions and the futures they imply and can create its own  future. Such comprehension is intangible and we can make it tangible and bring it into our life through an action we need to take immediately. If for some reason this is not possible, we should at least write down our comprehension and, as soon as possible, take at least the first step of the action we have seen already taken in that moment.  In my experience, this is essential to maintain the connection with that moment out of time and not let it die.

Personally, I have frequently underestimated this dynamics thus generating many missed occasions, either because they could not be realized  or because they lost their authentic and original taste. The time we put between that moment and the realization of its content is a chasm swallowing its essence, leaving us only the theory and the memory of its content. Often this leads us to create “empty” things, cathedrals in the desert of which we are no more able to feel the importance and the light they had in our moment out of time. In that moment we were present as Essence. If we miss that observation point, our mental content will come into play proposing countless possible futures, but not the future we could have created in that moment.

My father died of a heart-attack instantly. I was in my early 20s, but only recently I have understood that his experience registered also in my mind became a perspective preventing me from seizing many moments. For him this was in fact the tragic moment when he lost his life, and consequently the possibility to seize any other moment of his earthly experience. I think this genetic memory of death, added to other memories with similar content, contributed to make me unable to seize moments and realize their content: I was unconsciously repeating the moment of his death, thus the moment when he lost any possibility to act. To me, this took the significance of a missed moment, thus creating a chain of the many missed moments of my life.

As told before, every event of our life starts with a moment and, depending on how we live that first moment, we determine the outcome of many events. Let’s think to a conflict for example: we could say that in the first moment of the game we decide the entire game and its result!

If we are firm on our point of observation out of the time, that is to say on the moment of transition between the two conditions, we are able to see them both. In that moment and only in that moment, we are able to chose and create a different future. If we don’t, we can delude ourselves we are actually making a choice and maybe blame our counterpart for this conflict, but actually we are not making any choice at all. Our lucid moment has been swallowed in the chasm of our mental content and in that of our counterpart and, as a consequence, we will be living in the future already determined by the emotions and thoughts implied in the conflict.  We enter the toughest memories where one must win and the other must lose.  Such mental content suggests a clash and we start a battle we could have avoided if we had taken a different decision in that first moment. Perhaps the conflict would not have appeared or we would have  found a positive way-out for ourselves and for the counterpart.

How big is the cemetery of our missed moments? Mine is quite big, not strictly speaking for the missed occasions, but for those moments when life took a turn that could have been different if I had maintained the external point of observation in the first moment of each single occasion.

In my opinion it is totally wrong, besides being tremendously stupid, to let our moments of comprehension die. They are the only “living moments” of our life, the only ones able to create a new and real future of life. If we let them go and do not seize them, they are lost and our Essence goes with them.

We should not forget we will not be able to avoid our last moment, and in that moment we will only have our Essence to rely on. This will be much stronger if we express it in every single moment of our life, thus  realizing what it suggests is best for us.

Graziella Cella
Rebis Group Blogger

Translation by Graziella Cella