Dan Booth Cohen

The Psychology of Trauma Symposium Herrenalb, Germany

2012-01-30T21:03:00.000-05:00

I presented a workshop with author Alexandra Senfft at the Psychology of Trauma Symposium in Germany.

A man asked to look at his aggression in a Constellation. Born in 1958, he works as an addiction counselor. He told us aggression festered in him and burst through in destructive outbursts. Relationships and intimacy were difficult to sustain. At his job, he felt himself absorbing the negativity of the men he counseled.

His mother (b. 1919) was the illicit daughter of a 21 year-old German house servant and her employer, a wealthy, married German Jewish merchant. When this family maid became pregnant, the father denied paternity and fired her. The young woman was rejected by her parents out of shame. When the baby was born, she was given to an orphanage and lived there more than a year until the father paid a sum of money which enabled her mother to take her.

The girl grew up unaware of her Jewish heritage. She only learned she was the daughter of a Jew after the War started when she was assigned to manage a girls’ organization (BDM) within the Hitler Youth. Under the Nazi racial purity laws, she had to produce her original birth certificate. Seeing it for the first time was like receiving a death sentence. If her bosses knew, she would immediately be arrested and deported to a Concentration Camp.

Her first response was an unsuccessful suicide attempt. Then, she wrote a pleading letter to her mother’s brother, Rudi Graber, who held high rank in Joseph Goebbels’ Propoganda Ministry and wrote speeches for Hitler.

Rudi Graber saved his niece’s life by directing Baldur von Schirach to intervene and change her assignment to a nursery in Finland. With false birth papers and the protection of high ranking Nazis, she survived the War.

Near the end of the war, when Germany’s defeat appeared certain, Rudi Graber volunteered for combat on the Eastern Front. As expected, this suicidal decision resulted in his dying in battle.

The client’s mother had died in 2007. To the end, she felt bitterness towards Jews and Judaism. He described her as a complex woman, sometimes good humored and other times melancholy about the circumstances of her paternity, birth and upbringing. Like his mother and grandmother, he often struggled with dark emotions. His Jewish relatives escaped from Germany and moved to the US in the 1920s. His mother had made some attempts to contact them which were rebuffed.

Recounting this story in front the group brought tears to his eyes and those of many others. He had done much therapy of over the years, including his first Constellation more than 20 years ago. He felt the deadly conflict between Jews and Germans rage inside of him. These therapeutic interventions had not relieved his internal state of war.

Perhaps this setting, with the support of Alexandra Senfft, the granddaughter of a hanged Nazi war criminal and me, son of a Jewish-American Army soldier, could touch the hearts he carried in his heart: Who among them dared to forgive?

There may be no heroes in this story, but were there instances of heroism? Our minds naturally accept some and reject others. This Constellation brought forth complex ambiguity. The uncle, Rudi Graber, who wrote speeches to justify the murderous persecution of Jews, saved his niece’s life. The wealthy grandfather, who was a victim of hateful discrimination, left his daughter in an orphanage to protect his reputation.

I asked the client to begin with a representative for his grandfather and grandmother. Immediately, these two could be seen as existing in two separate worlds. The divide was not only between the worlds of Germans and Jews, but also males and females, and culture and creation.

Because this workshop was held in a professional setting with a societal theme, I expanded the Constellation so it was about more than one client and one family. Gradually, the Constellation space filled with many elements. The Jewish grandfather was joined by his wife, sons, Rabbi, and Moses to symbolize the cohesive force of Jewish tradition. The grandmother stood with her brother and elements representing the Fatherland and German culture.

The client’s mother remained alone in a no-woman’s-land. Her mother and German family rejected her for being the product of an illicit affair. Her father denied her very existence. Her representative reported feeling filled with shame, anger, and despair.

I asked the client to stand in the Constellation with his mother and a representative for Aggression. Surrounded by the external elements of their tragic story, they stood in the still point where powerlessness and rage converged.

With the representatives invited to move with their truths, the healing movement came spontaneously and unexpectedly from a surprising source. The mother's half-brother, the legitimate son of the wealthy merchant and wife, opened her heart to the child of his father’s affair. The actual man has been dead for many years, so his movement does not represent family facts and may actually contradict them. Instead, this was understood as an expression of compassion and acceptance towards a sister who did nothing to create the circumstances of her birth.

This simple gesture of acceptance by the Jewish brother allowed the client’s mother to move towards her own mother. The human heart is surrounded by gates that protectively close from the experience of trauma. The closed-heartedness created by severe trauma can seem irreversible and persist for decades, even be passed on to children and grandchildren.

The irony of this quality of closed-heartedness is it can be utterly irresistible to change and yet it can change in an instant. This is the potent effect experienced so often in Constellations.

The Jewish son’s movement released the tension of closed-heartedness in the system, opening the floodgates of open-hearted love, compassion, and acceptance. Even so, these movements are tempered by the limitations of culture and creation. For example, when the representative for Moses opened his arms to the client’s mother, her response was, “Where was your acceptance when it would have done me good?” Similarly, the Nazi uncle’s act of heroism was tempered by his crimes.

The client commented afterward that the Constellation lifted an immense burden off him. He felt an inner happiness that was quite new and unfamiliar. Some weeks after, he wrote me:

"I found a deep peace and harmony inside. I saw a clear answer to my struggles with "German culture," and "Intellectual behavior." They were represented in the Constellation as the energy of my cold grandmother and the Nazis. I felt empathy for my grandmother, her being alone as a young pregnant mother, denied and lied to by the Jewish family and rejected by her own mother and father. She was so alone. And my mother was the victim of her hurt and hate - because my mother always reminded her of the trauma of sexual violence, what my Jewish grandfather did to my grandmother. I am very thankful that I found a place for deep sadness and contrasting energies in my life."

2011-04-28T19:53:00.004-04:00

The Legacy of Slavery Workshop at California Institute of Integral Studies with Belvie Rooks and Tom DeWolf

The Legacy of Slavery Workshop at California Institute of Integral Studies began the night before at a public lecture by Dr. Joy DeGruy attended by 300 people. Her topic is Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome. She spoke for 2 hours, giving a passionately delivered, scholarly-based overview of the experiences of Africans kidnapped into slavery in the United States. One thesis is that the trauma of the African-American slavery lives on and the traumatization continues to be inflicted.

The next morning, 30 workshop participants gathered at the CIIS to continue the dialog and look at how we might individually and collectively support healing and social transformation.

Belvie Rooks, Tom DeWolf, and I were the co-workshop facilitators. Belvie and Tom had presented similar workshops in the past and invited me to join them by contributing a Constellation to the day’s experience.

The Constellation part of the workshop began about 1½ hours into the day. During the first part of the morning, I was listening and feeling the group to get a sense of where to begin. Following the DeGruy lecture, the emotions in the room were raw and somewhat tense. As a white male being invited to offer a healing process to a group largely composed of African Americans, I was aware that my offer might be met with skepticism by some and declined by others.

Before setting up the Constellation, I offered a brief introduction to contextualize the process and prepare the groups members as best I could for what might follow. Not everyone embraced me or the introduction. When I invited questions and comments, one woman offered that my language and phrasing caused her to lose interest. Another, challenged whether a healing process from Germany was appropriate for the setting. A third found my explanations lacking. There seemed to be a risk that the group members were not comfortable with moving forward. Given the larger context and people’s unfamiliarity with me and Constellations, it was to be expected.

An African American man spoke up and broke the drift towards stalemate. He offered that his spiritual practice is based on African traditions, that the workshop program said there was going to be a Constellation, and the spirits that guided him were encouraging him to speak up. This comment, and a supporting statement from Belvie Rooks, gave me permission to begin.

Listening for a theme or an image that speaks to the larger context, I heard two that felt strong. One came from a young African American woman who told about a time she was traveling by train through Peru. It was multi-hour journey and she passed the time looking at the landscape. Suddenly, she felt a strange disturbance in her body. Her emotions grew strong and dark, her heart rate increased, and she felt overcome by feelings of stress and dread. Frightened and confused, she turned to her traveling companion and asked him what she was looking at. He glanced out and said, “Those are cotton fields.” In recalling the story, she said, “Cotton is in my DNA. Even though I don’t know what it looks like, somehow my body knows.”

The other image came from Belvie. Her family history was traced in the book, The Seed of Sally Good'n. Sally Good’n was a bed woman to plantation owner Taylor Polk. Their son, Spencer Polk, was an emancipated slave who became the patriarch of a large and energetic Arkansas family. After Sally gave birth to a child with darker skin than the others she was “sold down the river,” presumably to become the sole possession of a poor white farmer. There is no record of her after that. Her heartbreak and that of her children stirred Belvie to tears when recounting her story.

The Constellation began with 3 representatives: one for the land on which the cotton grew; one for the poor Scottish American farmer; one for the slave woman. After several minutes, I added three more: one for the same piece of land a billion years earlier; one for the Scottish ancestor who stayed behind when the children left for America; one for the African mother whose child was kidnapped into slavery. Again after several minutes, I added one more representative, a person to create the beat, a heartbeat, a drum, the beat of the pulse of life.

Then, I spoke to those remaining on the outside of the circle and asked them to feel into themselves whether there was a place for them in the circle. I invited them to stand for themselves, another person, or an abstract element. Stand in for what felt true for them and belonged. Gradually, another 10 people stood up and moved into the circle. Last, I asked others – if so moved - to join the beat and create their own beats and pulses.

From there, the Constellation took on a life of its own. Each person had an individual experience and emotions. While, I did check in with them, most of what occurred happened in silence. The cotton field hated being torn apart and poisoned. The slave woman was deep in misery, but heard the rhythm of the beat to keep her alive. The Scottish farmer was working hard to survive and worked the slave without remorse. The Scottish ancestor felt abandoned and alone. A tall African American man with gray hair beat his hand on his chest; he said he wanted to stop but could not. A light-skinned African American woman said she hated the rapist father from whom she received her complexion.

The beat goes on. The beat goes on. Goes on. Goes on.

I asked people to rearrange themselves in the space by time, with the oldest elements at one end and the most recent at the other. The representatives found their places without words. The man beating his chest became the father of the slave woman. They were reunited and embraced with tears. A woman representing the Native Americans found her father in the land that was the cotton field. The Scottish and African ancestors found their daughter, the woman with the lighter complexion. Words were whispered; I stood away and did not hear them, honoring the sacred quality of the moment.

The beat rose in intensity with more people contributing sounds and percussions. Someone began to sing, followed by others. People danced. The Constellation transitioned into beat, movement, and music. Already, well past our allotted time, I brought the experience to a close.

The process continued after it ended. An African American woman who had stayed in her chair became very upset. She was speaking for herself, but also could be understood to be in resonance with the mind of the Constellation, expressing feelings that lived in her, but were much older and larger than her. She was the future, the unborn, who no one wanted to see. Two elders tended to her while I sat close by and listened. I told her that I had been looking for her the entire time, but had not recognized her because of my own blind spot. I asked her, what did she want me to know? She responded, “Just listen to me.”

Belvie Rooks is collecting comments and impressions about the workshop from participants. We will post some of them here with the permission of their authors.

How Constellations Work: Life is a Persistent Phenomenon

2011-01-18T12:24:00.005-05:00

When we are stuck in bad situations, experiencing dark emotions, or feeling broken and alone, we take for granted that it is “I” who suffers. The many thousands of Constellations done around the world suggest this psychological model is incomplete.

There is more to us than a unique human body, personal history and mind. Yes, we are our individual selves, but we are also the sum of experiences and memories that comprise our biological lineage. Our parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, and the countless ancestors behind them literally live on in our minds and bodies.

If you are dealing with a painful circumstance or emotion that refuses to improve, it is very likely to be much older than you. Instead of dissecting the actor’s brain, we need to understand the play.

Many scientists working at the edges of knowledge acknowledge the limitations of explaining the mind in terms of classical physics. Steve Grand in his bookCreation: Life and How to Make It, writes, “To understand life, mind, consciousness, and soul, I believe we have to turn our intuitive interpretation of the world inside out.”

His analysis is consistent with the body of evidence I am gathering from Constellations. Human life is a persistent phenomenon, with an enduring memory and consciousness. While I cannot do justice to his ideas in this newsletter, he convincingly asserts that intelligence, mind, and memory are a wave in motion.

We cannot define our identity though the physical matter that comprises our brains. “Recall the story of the old craftsman who was very proud of his tools, ‘I’ve had this hammer forty years,’ he’d say. ‘Of course, in its time it has had two new heads and three new handles,’”

Is it the same hammer? Are you the same person you were at age 10? Not a single atom in your body today was there two decades ago. What survives in you that breathed and loved a century ago? What parts of your creation will live on in the hearts and memories of those you touch?

We may very well be a surviving life form that grows new heads and bodies as the old parts wear out. The practical meaning of this is that if you have a problem, situation, or feeling that refuses to get better, it may not be yours. It may be a remnant of an archaic memory that is much older than you. Gaining clarity about what happened and to whom makes problems evaporate or become much lighter.

How Constellations Work: Personal & Continuous Consciousness

2011-01-18T12:16:00.001-05:00

Experience tells us that quick fixes and near miraculous healings are illusory or patently false. Do Constellations really provide profound and lasting benefits in only one or two sessions? If they do, what is a plausible explanation for how they work?

Constellations open a portal to a domain of consciousness that is well described in First People’s traditions, but nearly eradicated within the cosmology of science and technology. Everyone who accesses the Internet lives in an electronic universe. Here, the scientific consensus is humans perceive, transmit and receive information exclusively through the senses. Within this model, mind, memory, and behavior are individually unique. Consciousness = Brain.

Tens of thousands of Constellations worldwide suggest that this model is incomplete. There is another dimension of mind, memory, and behavior that is not our personal history. We cannot access it with the thinking mind, so we are easily convinced it doesn’t exist. However, when we open up the Constellation process, we clearly perceive another layer of being.

Beside our personal history and learned consciousness, we contain a continuous history and consciousness. We are not purely individuals, but also receptacles of genetic memories. Imagine a set of nesting dolls where the large outer shell is the newest incarnation containing your personal history, memory, and personality. Imbedded within are your parents, their parents, and their parents. Also resident are traces of traumatic events. The facts and stories may be lost, but the effects echo for many, many generations.

The outer layer of personal identity struggles with problems, fears, and difficult relationships. Beyond your personal history, ask the question, “Who is there with me when I feel this way?” The answer is difficult to discover by talking or thinking. With courage and focus, it can be felt in the stillness and silence of the Constellation.

Once the nested individuals are perceived and their stories are felt in the body, the problems they were causing relax, release, and slowly dissolve. Freed from the burden of theGhost in Your Genes, the outer layer of personal identity moves towards positive resolution.

Are Constellations Paranormal? With Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Rupert Sheldrake

2011-01-18T12:12:00.003-05:00

Our technological culture straddles a great philosophical chasm between world views. One embraces spiritual visions of universal connection and the other subscribes to strict materialism.

Is it possible to bridge the gap between proponents of collective consciousness and critics who insist the mind is only brain function?

I recently exchanged e-mails about Constellations, representative perception, and non-local communication with the preeminent astrophysicist Neil DeGrasse Tyson.

I asked whether the non-local information I perceive in Constellations has a plausible explanation. For example:

Standing as a client's mother, I felt the presence of an older brother who died in infancy. The client insisted his mother had only a younger brother, but a phone call with her afterward confirmed my perception.
Representing a client's sister, I said an obscure idiom. Shocked, the client said it was her sister's signature phrase.

I have hundreds of similar experiences, as do others who experience Constellations, whether facilitators, clients, or representatives. I understand them as normal, if poorly understood, properties of human perception. Occasionally, these are proven inaccurate, but most are on-target.

What seems commonplace to me, is far fetched or even delusional to others, including many of those engaged in the sciences. How is it possible for me simply standing and feeling for "mother" to gain awareness of her long deceased older brother?

Neil DeGrasse Tyson responded that my understanding of this phenomenon was probably faulty, i.e., these hits were gleaned from subtle cues, educated guesses, or were in normal proportion to the number of misses which I dismiss or ignore.

According to Tyson, the hypothesis that someone's detailed personal data - not resident in my brain -can be perceived or discerned in silence amounts to a claim of supernatural powers. "The laws of physics compellingly argue that we know all the ways that information can move from one point in time and space to another."

He added that in all eras, certain humans have claimed the ability to ascertain information that is not presented to the 5 senses. "The history of such claims over the past two thousand years is one of abject failure. People who claimed non-materialist accounts of the natural world have routinely failed in the face of properly conducted experiments."

The lack of credible supportive experimental data along with a well establish set of theoretical laws, lead him to be extremely skeptical that my examples are normal qualities of human perception.

How can I argue my subjective personal experience against conclusive experimental research? As he notes, "The methods and tools of science have wholly replaced our feeble five senses as tools of inquiry to the natural world. So what something looks like to your senses is no longer the measure of what is true in the physical world."

Being a left-handed, colorblind, Jewish heretic makes me well accustomed to standing 3 standard deviations from the norm. However, that means eclectic, not endowed with super powers. While these occurrences are incidental to the Constellation process, Tyson's responses give me much to weigh and consider.

I reported my exchange to another scientist whose work I respect, Rupert Sheldrake. Over the last 30 years, Sheldrake has built a large experimental database of tests of psi phenomenon that produce positive results.

He responded, "I think it’s ridiculous to pin the argument down to the well-understood laws of physics. We have no explanation even of biological morphogenesis in terms of the known laws of physics, and less understanding of consciousness. To assume that all these things will eventually be understood in terms of laws of physics is an example of promissory materialism. It’s essentially a faith position and not one you can ever refute by argument."

Sheldrake, Dean Radin, Gary Schwartz, and many other clinicians and scientists are engaged in experimentation and theory building to create the ground for these Constellation experiences to stand. An excellent source of news and debate on these questions is Skeptiko.com

I fall back to an observation from Stephen Jay Gould, "Each of us has to have a personal metaphysics. There are questions that are formally unanswerable on which nonetheless every individual must take a position in order to integrate various pieces of his life."

Science wrought to its uttermost becomes myth.

Are Constellations Alchemy?

2011-01-18T12:07:00.001-05:00

In 1975, I studied with Prof. Betty Jo Dobbs at Northwestern University. Formerly a high school science teacher in rural Arkansas, she shocked her family by moving to Cambridge University, England, where she became a scholar of Newton's alchemy. Newton's occult papers were suppressed for 200 years until unearthed by the Cambridge economist John Maynard Keynes. After cataloging them, he wrote, "Newton was not the first of the age of reason, he was the last of the magicians."

Professor Dobbs taught that alchemy was the quest for material/spiritual transformation. Prior to Kepler, Galileo, and Newton, no one conceived these aspects could split apart and be studied separately.

After 1700, science and spirit divorced. Science became heartlessly materialistic; spiritualism devolved into superstitious naiveté.

Einstein and quantum physics solved the material side of alchemy, the transformation of elements through nuclear reactions. Dr. Dobbs believed the compelling task for humanity was to find the solution to alchemy's other side, the transformation of the human heart.

For 25 years I created and ran conflict resolution and violence prevention programs. This is how I came to Germany and the Constellation process ten years ago.

Today, I see every Constellation as an alchemical transformation. You present a problem that robs your life of joy. The Constellation reveals how the traumas that befell your grandparents weigh on your heart like lead. Transformation comes when you hear the ancestors. They mourn when you carry their burdens and rejoice when you receive their gifts.

A century after Einstein discovered the formula to build an atom bomb, in a world of unimaginable suffering, growing numbers of humans are learning to turn lead into gold. Your heart is the instrument of transformation. It absorbs your elders' sorrows and returns kindness, love, and compassion to those in your care. That is alchemy.

Responsibility and Healing at Camp Föhrenwald, Wolfratshausen, Germany

2009-03-10T10:00:00.015-04:00

Dr. Dan Booth Cohen, Facilitator
Eve-Marie Schaffer, Co-Facilitator
Alexandra Senfft, Guest Speaker
Brigitta Mahr, Organizer
Dr. Karen Cramer, Translator
February 27 – March 1, 2009

Overview

This 3-day seminar near Munich, Germany took place at the former site of Föhrenwald, a Displaced Persons camp for Jewish Holocaust survivors.

Among the 30 participants were several children of Jewish Holocaust survivors and many children of Nazi perpetrators. Each of us came to Föhrenwald in search of healing and understanding for a part of ourselves or the essence of a loved-one who lives inside of us.

Part of us cannot find peace or come to rest. In the silence of our dreams, in our restless thoughts, in the darkest places in our hearts, the terrible experiences that befell our fathers and mothers, grandparents, aunts and uncles live on inside us. They appear as nightmares or panic attacks, forgetfulness or sorrow.

These dark influences also motivate our kindness and compassion, propelling us to be healers, peacemakers, and teachers. We honor our ancestors’ losses and soothe their pain by embracing that we are the living fruit of their sacrifices. They grieve when their suffering becomes ours. They bless us when we take our good lives and live well.

Our experiences together gave us what we sought. We began with three images from the Nazi era: a small boy clinging to his mother’s leg in the Jewish Ghetto, a teenage boy at the mouth of his own grave begging for mercy, and a hate-filled, cold-hearted soldier who killed without mercy.

The archetypes of “Silence,” “Terror,” and “Consequences” dominated this bereft landscape. The healing process required everyone and everything that belonged to be seen and named. This allowed unbearable grief to be felt and exchanged.

Mutually shared grief, in the company of “Life,” “Truth,” and “Destiny,” exposed the buried wounds. When we concluded, the children of those who fought and died stood connected by the energy of love and forgiveness.

Friday Night Talk

On the first night, Alexandra Senfft discussed her best-selling book, Schweigen Tut Weg (Silence Hurts). Her grandfather, Hanns Ludin, was a high-ranking member of the Nazi elite. He was executed as a war criminal in 1947.

The family never dared to speak openly about his crimes. Senfft described how the silence surrounding her grandfather's crimes made it impossible for the family to grieve and heal. To this day, most of Alexandra's extended family subscribe to the conspiracy of silence and denial. The repression of the truth and distortion of facts had far-reaching destructive effects. Schweigen is the silence of denial. Events are not spoken of and the truth is shrouded in a fog.

Similar dynamics occur in many German families. One sibling feels compelled to search for hidden facts, holds an affinity for Jewish people and themes, or is troubled by emotions that connect them with the victims of Nazism. They often are alienated from the family-at-large which stands with Silence, claiming their ancestors were not involved in Nazi crimes. These descendants express disinterest or opposition to examining the events of the past, and strive to put a good face on themselves and their families without delving into the messiness of troubling emotions.

In many Jewish families, quite a different dynamic exists. The effects of two millennia of dispersion and persecution, manifested in the 20th century by the Russian pogroms, Nazi Holocaust, and Israeli wars result in a persistent and pervading belief that Jews must survive amidst violent enemies who are determined to exterminate them. “They all want to kill us,” is how one Jewish participant summarized her attitude towards her enemies past, present, and future.

More than 60 years after the end of the Nazi regime, the echoes of that traumatic period continue to affect countless individuals and our global human community. Alexandra’s heartfelt talk sparked the love, compassion, and blessing that can grow from the bond between victims and perpetrators and their descendants.

Opening Introductions

Our group gathered the morning following Alexandra Senfft’s talk to search for healing movements for ourselves, our families, and humanity as a whole. Our tools were compassionate listening, Family Constellations, and Eve-Marie Schaffer's expressive creativity process called Painting-From-the-Inside-Out.

We opened the morning with a round of introductions and sharing where each person was invited to say a bit about themselves and what brought them to Föhrenwald.

Many of the German participants were the one sibling in their families who actively addressed the weight of their family’s Nazi past. Several knew or suspected a secret connection to Jewish lineage. Others were confronted by mysterious events, such as the woman whose uncle survived the War then committed suicide in 1946. Over the years, she asked herself many times, “What had he done or witnessed that drove him to take his life?”

One woman told us her father was a low-level soldier who only followed orders and performed his duties. That was her “truth” until he died. That was when she discovered from hidden papers that he was Commandant of a death camp where tens of thousand of Jews were murdered.

Another woman’s father never uttered a word. She, too, found the secret stash of hidden papers that many former soldiers left behind at their deaths. It contained two envelopes postmarked during the war days. The letters had been discarded and the envelopes saved as relics, holding memories and meanings that died with him. What did they contain? Were there clues to the mystery of her current struggles?

Several participants came by themselves after seeing the workshop announcement. One was a young woman named “Grace” who told us her panic attacks were becoming more frequent. Abstract drawings she made in an art therapy process contained disturbing images. A a series of vivid dreams contained images of a small boy of about 6 years of age who was trapped in a crowed Ghetto scene. In one nightmare, a Nazi soldier kicked the boy in the head.

As we went around, these stories filled the space. A man explained, “My father did not participate in the Holocaust, but he was a virulent Jew-hater.”

A woman who only heard about the event a few days earlier came from a town in eastern Germany near Dresden. “My father was an SS guard. He was unrepentant until he died. His hatred and murderous impulses frighten me. His sister was handicapped. She was taken away and killed. No one spoke about her, but I think she is important to understanding him.”

A woman who leads group workshops said she cannot remember people's names. She feels it relates to silence and her family's unspoken Nazi past. Another said her father was unknown; she suspected he was Jewish.

The Constellation

With the circle of introductions complete, I contemplated how to begin the Constellation. I suggested we start with two abstract elements: the boy and soldier who appeared in the nightmare. I invited anyone to stand in the Constellation representing themselves, another person, or an abstract element. People could join at their own pace (or not), move in or out of the Constellation as they chose and announce who they were standing for.

First, a woman came out of her chair and curled up on the floor. Another moved into the center of the circle. The woman who had difficulty remembering names stood up and threw herself around the leg of the woman in the center, announcing she was representing the 6-year old boy holding tightly to her mother.

The circle filled slowly. Someone stood in for “Silence.” Another for “Consequences.” “Life.” “Truth.”

One of the Jewish women stood for her uncle Motl who at age 16 had been taken by Nazi soldiers from his home. They brought him to the woods where he and the other young men of his neighborhood were forced to dig a ditch, fill it with lime, and stand in front of it. The Nazi firing squad shot the boys into the ditch and covered them over.

Standing in his place, the niece filled with the terror and confusion of his last moments before a Nazi bullet stopped his breath. Motl called out, “Don’t shoot me. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t hurt anyone.” He pleaded, “Please don’t kill me!” Some minutes later, a silent shot rang out. Motl screamed. His representative collapsed to the floor. The emotions that emerged were authentic in their intensity and tenor. (In actuality, this woman’s mother, Motl’s sister, had lived at Föhrenwald in 1946.)

The woman who lived near Dresden stood in for her father the Nazi perpetrator. Grace, the woman who saw the boy and soldier in her dream, stood in for herself. Gradually, the Constellation filled until we had about 25 participants in the circle.

A man stood in for “Terror.” A woman stood for “Hope.”

My role is to give room for the truth to emerge and also to feel for movements that guide the memories of suffering and loss towards healing. We have all encountered terrifying nightmares and moments of unbearable suffering. The Constellation is not for gratuitously recreating these sorrows, but for passing through them en route towards reconnecting with love, growth and acceptance.

At my suggestion, the representative for the 6 year-old boy asked the mother, “Who is that? What is her name?”

The mother asked the representative, “What is your name?” When the representative answered, the mother replied to the son, “She stands for Life.”

The boy said, “You stand for Life. I know your name.” In this way, the mother and boy traveled through the entire Constellation naming everyone and everything that belonged.

“Who is that, mother?”

“Who are you?”

“I am Motl. I am a 16 year-old boy stolen from my house, brought to the woods, shot into a lime-filled ditch that I had dug. Why did they kill me? I never hurt anyone.”

The mother back to the son, “This is Motl.”

Then the boy, “You are Motl. I know your name.”

With these words, Motl was overcome with a wave of sobbing tears, grief for the loss of his life, the grief of the mother and sisters who couldn't save him, bury him, or recite the Kaddish at his grave. The sobs of grief mixed with deep and overwhelming gratitude for being seen, remembered and named.

The boy looked at the woman curled in a ball on the floor. A man had stood in and was kneeling at her back with his hands on her shoulders. “Mother, who is that?”

The mother asked, “What is your name?”

“I am the child who was never born. My mother was shot and killed when she was pregnant with me.”

The representative had been distressed and bereft until that point, but when Motl, the boy and his mother saw her, she was able to cry. She and Motl embraced in tears. Motl spoke Yiddish, offering her words of love and comfort. The sound of grief-stricken Yiddish, rarely heard anymore at Föhrenwald, opened the door towards resolution.

To the man at her back, “Mother who is that? What is his name?”

“What is your name?”

“I am who stays with you. You are not alone or forgotten.”

They continued to move through the circle. Motl and the child not born stood up, took hands and accompanied the boy.

“Who is that?”

“That is Silence....”

“I stand for Hope.”

“I stand for Terror.”

“I stand for the Truth.”

“I stand for the Consequences.”

"I am the energy of Love and Forgiveness."

Before the naming ritual, the representatives for Silence and Consequences occupied central positions, dominating this landscape of Föhrenwald’s soul. Silence was the antithesis of vocalizing the name of everything and everyone who belongs. When Silence stood strong, the Consequences gathered energy. The murdered children were alone in their agony. The soldier stood coldly.

Silence kept the overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame at bay. In hearing Motl’s death scream and feeling the terror of his last moments, one could understand why many survivors of the War, both German and Jewish preferred silence to expression. The truth was too painful, too shameful, too hard to bear. Silence created a dearth of emotion, but it could be understood as an effective coping strategy that serves ordinary life.

A representative stood behind Silence. He said he was both protecting silence and protected by silence. This suggested that while Silence serves the common good in allowing people freedom from overwhelming emotions, it has a negative effect on those family members who resonate with hidden truths.

We felt the many consequences of the silence of denial. Grieving is not complete. The truth is not known or understood. The ones who are responsible are not held to account; their descendants unconsciously carry their guilt. People who belong to the family are forgotten.

By its nature, Silence could not speak or react. As these movements unfolded, Life and Truth and others broke Silence's resolve. When Silence was broken, a flood of emotions came through. Silence then retreated outside the circle, taking on a benign quality of past events that were resolved and forgotten. The quality of the Consequences also shifted. Freed from alignment with Silence, Consequences became more at ease as everything and everyone who belonged was named and acknowledged.

The "Energy of Love and Forgiveness" gained strength as the process unfolded. She moved freely among the others, stopping in several places to exert influence where she felt it was needed.

We continued around the circle. Grace, the woman who first dreamed of the little boy told him her name, adding, “I could not forget you.”

Another representative told the Mother, “I do not know who I am. I am the one who has no name.” This representative appreciated the contact as she was brought into the group that now contained the boy and his mother, the baby never born, Motl, and the others. Something remained unresolved for her.

The boy and his mother, accompanied by the others, continued around the circle learning everyone’s name. The last un-named representative was standing near the edge of the circle. The boy said, “Mother who is that?”

The mother asked, “Who do you stand for?”

“I am the Nazi soldier. I have no regret.” This was spoken by the woman standing in for her father who had been an SS guard during the war. He was the one whose handicapped sister was taken away and killed.

Most of the representatives had gathered around the boy and his mother. They faced the soldier, who stood stiff and cold. I suggested that this soldier incorporated all the Nazi soldiers who belonged to the group. He was part of the firing squad that killed Motl; he was the one who shot the pregnant mother whose baby was unborn; he was the one who appeared in Grace’s dream and kicked the little boy in the head. He stood for all of them.

Only one representative stood between the boy and the soldier. She was Destiny. In was their fate to be cast together as victim and perpetrator by the larger historic and political forces that overtook Germany during the Nazi era. Destiny took each one’s hand linking them through their shared fate. The hands of Destiny joined them in the victim-perpetrator bond.

The representative for Life stood with the larger group aligned with the boy and the other victims. I asked her why she stood on one side and not with the other. She replied that the soldier had lost his connection to life through the many murders he committed.

Another representative said that the soldier was excluded from the circle of love and forgiveness because he was unrepentant. The soldier remained unmoved. He had executed his duties and felt no remorse for the damage done. Rather, his heart was closed to the suffering of others. All he felt was the bitter loneliness of his own pain.

The Constellation slowed to a full stop. Much had been said and many tears shed, tears of both grief and relief. The boy learned the names of everyone who belonged. Motl and the unborn baby, two nearly forgotten victims represented by actual living relatives, were grieved for and taken into the hearts of those who survived. The Nazi soldier faced his victims, confronting the damage he had caused. Yet, he remained apart from the others, linked to them only by their shared destiny.

Recalling the story of the soldier’s handicapped sister, a flash of insight sparked in me. I went to the representative who stood for the one who said, “I do not know who I am. I am the one who has no name.” I asked her, “Could you be the soldier’s handicapped sister?

She answered immediately, “Yes, of course. I am.”

With that recognition, she moved past the others, across the empty divide to face the soldier. She said to him, “I am your handicapped sister who was murdered.”

The soldier agreed. “You were always so happy and creative when we were small children. I loved you very much.” This was his personal tragedy behind his hardened façade.

The social engineers of the Third Reich instituted a policy to destroy the handicapped. Their goal was to cull the weak from the able-bodied to strengthen the Fatherland. After the sister was killed, her brother was put in a uniform, given a weapon, and ordered to kill many others. He fulfilled these orders disconnecting his thoughts and emotions from the place in his heart where his beloved sister survived. This is what alienated him from Life.

When these two came together embracing in tears and whispered yearnings, the larger group was able to cross the divide that had separated the victims from their perpetrator. The soldier confessed his love for his lost sister. Connecting to his grief and personal guilt allowed him to feel remorse for the lives he had taken.

The final movement in the Constellation was to create a single line of representatives for actual people. The boy, his mother, Motl, the unborn baby, the soldier and sister, and “Grace”, who dreamed them found their places together.

The abstract elements moved in around them. Silence retreated and his character changed from the suppression to stillness. The representative for the energy of Love and Forgiveness felt her strength grow with each step in the progression. At the end, her influence felt like a huge balloon that enveloped the whole tapestry.

The boy looked at everyone and everything that belonged to his destiny. He told his mother, “I see them all. I know their names. If I forget, Grace helps me remember.”

The Remainder of the Seminar

During the rest of the seminar, we focused on personal integration and expression. Eve-Marie Schaffer led the group in an experiential process that opened channels of creativity. We had time for a number of personal Constellations which followed the theme of the lingering repercussions of war, trauma, and secrecy.

“Grace” sent me a message afterwards giving me background about her dreams and artwork. She concluded:

“Of course the journey goes on… Yes, it might be nicer for me to not have these images and feelings inside. Still, this is just dipping a toe into the nightmare that a lot of people experienced. If bringing my images into the Constellation helped to foster healing on a larger scale, it is really worth it to see and feel all that.”

“Maybe a real soul came to tell me his story or maybe not – this does not matter. What is real is that the image has its own truth: There is love, blessing and compassion that connects us all.”

(Please read the comments for additional input and reflections from the participants. Feel free to add your own comments as well.)