After that great roller-coaster yesterday when the cabin was going up up up, it curiously fell down again, well what goes up must come down, and I was prepared, yessir – BUT it wasn’t a whole nights madness, only about 6 hours – and I found out something: the suffering identity felt so good  because I had suffered so much the day before – therefore she felt she had deserved it… I can see this going on, deep under, as a leitmotif” joy is paid with suffering, and suffering is a noble way to pay off karma and your evil ways” – I saw these thoughts coming up, and I could accept them and look at them, and see how seriously “she” takes them – no wonder “she” is scared of peace, when it is paid with this kind of hell –
I get to forgive that I think “she/me” is real, and that I believe this story is true – if not, it is really very well faked, but so is the world, right – a big very real-looking fake sumthin, of which I seem to be a part –

Yesterday, when all was love and peace, I stood in my healing-room and looked at a wall-altar – several objects/cards/poems/photos which I love, and are sacred to me. Let me name them here, to honor them and share them:

At the top, a hand painted glowing orange watercolor thankyou-card from a student:

Nina – you are the goldest



that exists

Under it:

a large Anch-cross – “The Cross of Life” from the Egyptian Mysteries…I have an Anch-ring on my left middle-finger too, haven’t removed it in 40 years

Under it: a post card of a painting called “The Dreamer” a blue angel, looking cold and forlorn, in a blue room, is looking into a blue mirror – a door i s open –

under it:

Frans of Assisi’s prayer, calligraphed in a circle

under it: A tiny card ,pencil drawing by my daughter, a delicate dandelion in the process of loosing  its seeds to the wind:”I love you – happy mother’s day”

Under it:

a tiny sculpture I made of the Hebrew letter TAV, encompassing returning to the Source

under it:

two Rosaries, the one  bought in Rome, blessed by the Church at home, even thought I was never a  “real”Catholic

beside it: a 50-year present from a friend, a piece of jewelery made of shells and pearls, to remind me of a former life shared in Melanesia – a simple, good life in a warm and soothing climate

beside it: a cheep white plastic watch without the dial – where I have written “NO TIME”

at the bottom: a  black silhouette cut by my daughter when she went to Waldorf-school: From Jesus’ birth in the stable: at the left, a donkey, then the crib – then Mary and Joseph, and the star hangs from a black thread

Yesterday I found myself emerged in all these expressions of love, and found myself prostrating three times in front of it, honoring my journey to where I am seeing myself now


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Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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