Just before the last steep little hill before Home, she holds. The backpack is very heavy, since she told herself she had to fill it with lot of oat milk -since oat milk was essential for her happiness. So she is rather tail-heavy. -She needs to traverse a tiny bump – maybe 10 cm tall – before she can slide down 10 meters and then start to climb the short steep hill. A minor thing can have major consequences -and as she moves the right ski and places it on the bump, her balance is thrown off and she starts to slide backwards. Time slows to a halt, she knows she will fall, and it does not feel good – last time she fell, she broke a wrist.
There is a loud CRACK. Not much pain, though – but still –
She starts to cry heavily, unstoppable, manages to take her skies off and carries them in her hands.
At home, it does not feel so bad – but the following days, the right arm and right side of the chest start to feel deeply painful, and there is difficulty in exercising.
Way of Mastery is adamant: it is our way of thinking that creates everything. And this time, she realizes that the energy in the moment she decided to traverse the hill with skies on, was a situation of force , not respect, not time to feel into – just crash through the block before her.
And that lack of kindness and consideration created the crack.
This choice had a wide reaching consequences :a week later, there is deep pain on the right side at the tip of the lung, maybe in the liver too, the right arm feels like something has crushed inside it.
A whole night, sitting up in bed, being with this pattern of forcing herself, brings her to an epoch making memory: she sits at a table, maybe nine-ish, her father to the right, he is explaining something that has to do with numbers, and there is a strong demand of having to “get this” NOW!!!” or else –
Or else she is hopeless – and has NO value.
She freezes, and her father explodes – and she spaces out and makes a decision about herself: how stupid and unworthy she must be – clearly nothing in her is lovable – she is a false specimen – so THAT IS WHY she is constantly abused by men – something in her WANTS it to punish herself –
And now, sitting in bed at night, she cries a waterfall when she realizes that her father acts out the other side of the coin – the importance to make one’s child see the importance to understand things, be on the top, and crush one’s needs instantly – in order to have a place in the family – one’s main role.
An unfathomable peace flows through her as she sees the terror in the father – and that his outburst has absolutely nothing to do with her.
She sees her TRUE father behind his mask – her best friend, a true soulmate.
Now the pains in the body are seen like the consequences of a whole life crushing her own needs – and the choice has been HERS all along. Use force and pressure to walk through life, minimize all needs, call yourself a hopeless wimp when you need time to feel safe.
*
In Hilaryon Stories, I have recognized all characters to be parts of me/my Soul. In Part 2 there is a foul weather and a staff with evil in it entering – and all the characters must deal with its influence. Thank God they do so with playful creative means. Without Johann Sebastian’s music ***and the marvelous joyous Croc and his loving interventions it would look very bad –and I remind myself that they are all parts of my soul, helping me meet and transform the dark stuff within
All that stuff has a shining shimmering joyful essence. To see my father now TRULY is erasing the past that I have made.
The false images crumble – dusty costumes fall off – light is the very essence of it all
Thank you so much for reading this through