2.1 Euphorbia lactea
Number: 64434.05
Series: Hydrogen, Carbon, Silicon and Iron series; emphasis on Iron series.
Clades: Euphorbiaceae; Violales; Fabidae.
Phase: 3; Subphase: 4.
Stage: 5.
Euphorbium lactea, proving
Trituration proving, 16-11-2008, Utrecht.
The night before, I just tuned to the cactus.
The first contact is very irritating. I feel the needles immediately coming to me.
There are old problems on the right side of my face, my skin feels very irritated. I had these complaints two years ago a lot, a type of facial pain.
Over-stimulation that goes through and over my head, to my occiput. Too much tension in my shoulders. I’m not well grounded. All energy is at the top.
Chest pressure, a kind of anguish. The abdomen feels like a harness.
After feeling the spines, I feel the plant swaying, the plant bends like a reed in all directions. I ask: “Are you so? Or do you behave so?” The answer is “I do so”, so it is not the core.
I put the cactus beside my bed that night.
Dream the night before the trituration, just after falling asleep.
I’m at my maternal grandparents’, but it feels like the family home.
In the front room stands a cupboard on the right side, where my grandfather always sat in his own chair. There are three exquisite Japanese dishes on the lower shelf, black on the outside and coloured inside. They are different in colour. One is broken, there is a loose shard.
I immediately feel guilty that I did […that I did what??]. I try to fit the shard to the broken dish, to lay it like a puzzle, but it does not fit. The dish has no part missing and the edges are not sharp but beautifully rounded.
When cutting a piece from a plant, milk appears. I ask Jan Scholten what that is. He says it’s Spurge, wolf milk. I am surprised because my first son was called Wolf.
C1 Indulgence.
1. 7 minutes triturating and 3 minutes scraping.
Pungent eyes, tingling on the scalp, especially the occiput.
The substance is a very wet paste, green. The piece of the trunk is difficult to pulverise.
I feel my feet off the ground.
Everything stimulated the nose, eyes, especially around my head.
2. Pain in my right arm, a complaint I have had for a long time, but it is worse.
I have to change to my left arm.
The substance is getting thicker. The stem of the plant is now easier. A thick paste, it’s like glue, it gets rougher, the moisture is disappearing.
3. I have to work hard. Thick stuff. Looks like icing on top of a cake I made earlier on Sunday.
There are still hard remnants of the trunk in the substance.
Tantalising eyes.
The substance does not co-operate. Opposition, stiff.
The scar of the tribe will not be crushed, even hard pieces.
Tantalising eyes.
Sticks to the very edges of the mortar.
As if I should cry.
4. The fabric is soft as butter.
It stings. It invites me to cry. The substance feels very soft, is starting to smell strongly, like fresh greens. I have very good associations with it: start of spring, new beginnings.
The tingling in the eyes weans off a bit. I need to work less hard.
The scar on the stem of the cactus remains, is narrowing. Irritation.
The eyes irritate less. Strong pungent odour to the nose, irritating.
The substance is very, very powdery, it is whiter. Acidic air.
The substance is becoming drier.
5. Still irritated eyes, as if I’m going to cry but no tears, my eyes are drying. Sad melancholy mood.
Dust is getting finer and smoother, the scar is gone.
The pestle flies around the mortar, I make a mess a lot on my hand and legs, the dust is very fine and very dusty, it’s like ashes of a burned body, so fine. I still see a little scar on the trunk.
We go to dust.
6. The pestle flies through the bowl, the stuff is so slippery. The piece of the trunk is still present. Such a contrast to the rest of the fabric (so soft).
I feel a heavy band around my head, especially forehead. I’m hot, I have taken my jacket off, still very hot.
The mortar shows the friction, not the substance, which is very smooth. The fabric is always out.
Continued C1.
6. It is almost impossible to stop, I keep messing up my trousers and hands.
C2.
1. My head, scalp feels sensitive, stinging eyes remain.
When the 7 minutes are up, but I want to continue triturating, something in me wants to go, like a machine.
2. Without feeling, like a machine, go on and on. Until I fall down.
To the bitter end: bitter. Life is bitter. Melancholy, it has no meaning, I do not matter. Let it all hang. What is the point? Life is empty. I go on like a machine. I do not want it anymore. Who am I?
THIS is life, not there but here where I am today.
3. I need to hurry, otherwise it’s too late. What then is too late? Life.
It is time to let go, to relax.
Let go the old and take the new beginning, like spring.
But how do I do that? Here, now, not far away. Softness, gentleness, go with the flow. I do not worry.
I have a dry mouth, need to drink a lot more!
How’s it going with me? Better, relaxed, simple, that’s the best.
Relaxed in myself.
The emotions are very up and down, I notice.
But the feeling is not very happy, though I enjoy the trituration very much.
4. Headache-like symptoms, forehead, brooding. Dry mouth.
Yes, now I find the fun again! I do this for the fun of it.
The irritation in my eyes comes back, the eyes burn.
They are warm, my eyes.
More space comes in my head. Still warm, especially upper body portion and head.
5. Eyes still sting.
WHEN WILL IT BREAK THROUGH ?????
It is now somewhat tepid, calm. It’s always feeling and feeling nothing, feeling and feeling nothing.
When does this stop??
REST that’s fine, no more bumping back and forth.
I can finally become a woman, myself, as I am. Relax, receive.
There is more lightness in my head, relaxation.
Embracing life, my life.
6. No resistance, with the flow.
On the ice, circling, exactly in balance. With the flow.
Let me go on the stream.
The substance becomes rougher in the mortar, it sticks to the bowl.
C3.
1. Too much thinking, feeling too little, too much to have everything under control.
LETTING GO!!
Continued C3.
1. Image: a woman with her hands tied is brought to the middle of the forest. It’s dark. There is a leader, a religious head, who says how I have to behave. I get indoctrinated. I am not allowed to be free, to decide for myself. That is removed. Guilt: I’m not good enough. Even if I do what they say I will be killed anyway. So I might as well keep to myself. BITTER. I feel like revolting. I must rebel.
2. Feeling the anger in myself. Contact with the anger, as if I will explode.
Still pungent nose. I feel the anger rising in me. With the anger energy is released. Enraged, the pestle goes back and forth.
I feel energy release like I’m playing sports.
Using my inner strength.
3. By focusing I go forward like a rocket.
Focus is essential! To remain faithful to it.
4. My own way. But not feeling alone. I make my own grooves in my life. Still burning, itchy nose. Set my own stamp.
5. I get a sort of common sense about me. With both feet on the ground.
6. Decisiveness, more grounded. More energy is now in the bottom of my body, rising from the abdomen.
Dream the night after the trituration:
My husband and I are going to start a commune. There are people: couples and singles. Most are familiar to us. Such as single (an ex-friend, in real life married, with a daughter, used to be my best friend, we worked together, both very ambitious freelancers; she was always very focused; I was too, going for my work then.) She is immediately interested in my husband. We are about 8 or 10 people.
We live in our house, but it happens in my parents’ house (in the hallway and front room). My son is also there, he is 3 to 4 years old. I’m not enjoying myself in the commune, I become increasingly estranged from my husband. He leads a very different life, very easy, makes fun and is relaxing. I feel disconnected from everyone, my son is more together with my husband. I am also concerned about the lady who likes my husband. Some women are searching in my personal drawers, they are very curious, I find it very annoying, they break all kinds of boundaries. I say I do not like it. Then I ask my husband if he can wake me early, because I have to go to my psychologist early, I have to be there at 9. But I just wake at 9, my husband is having breakfast and very relaxed. He’s not at all concerned that it is already 9 and that I will be too late for my psychologist. I am very angry at my husband, but it does not affect him. Then I meet my friend in the hallway (my childhood home). She has lost interest in the commune also and she will go back home. I ask her how she can do that and she says she always kept her own house. So they return directly! Others of the commune have not lost interest and their leaving will be a much bigger problem. I am still feeling very lonely and closed, not at the right place. But I’m also isolated from my husband.