Chantarelles and Heaven

In bed in the morning: how I long to feel FREE. Not dreaming any longer all these stories of guilt and having to atone for sins. Being free of all the pain and stiffness and blocks in the  head/neck-area.

So I decide to tune into that something  in the mind that thinks it has to control to be safe.As I move towards it in  my awareness, I pass through layers of stories and illusions. It feels like the main “controller” has its own personality.

I talk to the controller from my true Self – sharing an image that comes to me: chanterelles in the wood. ( I pronounced it “Chantarel” and the word-correcting program suggested “Archangel.” Which is really appropriate, as you will see in a while.)

Chanterelles may be my absolute favorite food: sautéed with butter and parsley and some salt and pepper – heavenly. When I find them in the wood, they seem like bits of sunshine. I fall to my knees and sniff them and often have tears in my eyes. They are sacred to me.

One time I was lost in the wood. I had lost the path, and had no idea where I was. Terror overtook me. I wandered around in the bush and prayed and cried, and there, right in front of me- the biggest chanterelle-place I ever saw. Terror disappeared, I picked and picked and filled up my shirt.

The happiness I felt at finding Heaven subdued the terror. I listened inward to sense the right direction, and soon found the right path again.

I tell the control-me that this is what we choose to do from now: Look for chanterelles only and dismiss the poisonous mushrooms – the thoughts of fear and control.

Looking for chanterelles does not mean that I am looking away to something in the future: it is right here and now – as something that is either beautiful or pleasurable and present. I find it and dwell there.

*

My father had a split personality: Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde. His Hyde-part abused and tortured me for years – without anybody in the family being aware of it. I was 38 years before I was able to remember and reconnect to my past.

The same man who raped was also a kind father who loved to take his daughter hiking in the woods  and look for chantarelles. He always knew where to find the treasures, he always “gave them” to me. His greatest joy was to sit and watch me go bananas in joy and picking all of them.

I find it symbolic and deeply meaningful to see that the man who harmed was the same man who looked for Heaven and took me to It.

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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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