Puschkinia scilloides
Sensation proving. May 2013. Nikolo-Uryupino, Moscow region, Russia.
«A schoolgirl… I am still the same school girl in my heart…
I want so much to tell the words of love…»
(Song)
[Individual provers’ meditation, independent of each other.]
№1 Some discrepancy between the external weakness and the internal strength. It appears like just a gentle flower, externally fragile, and the underground stem is weak. But it is impossible to dig it out; the bulb is strong, it’s impossible to pull it out. Oh-oh, such a grace, and the full power inside.
Such a strong bulb in spite of external grace. Strangeness and contradiction between the depth and power and a shy appearance.
Power is hidden in the depths, and there is outside elegance. It is difficult to get deep to the force, it is deeply buried; one must apply effort to reach the bottom. Outside, everything is so simple and elegant.
The feeling that the development is not easy. Outwardly unprepossessing, 2-3 leaves, the stalk is thin, tuck! - got pulled away. But inside, in the depth there is power.
More and more digging until got to the bulb. “Can do a lot, but will show just a little”.
Bees are flying a lot onto this Puschkinia.
Lots of little bits. “I will not give out all what I have”.
Modesty and indecision.
Feels like a left-hand Stage.
â„–2 The smell is gentle and breezes cool. There may be nectar; this is the smell of honey-givers, the smell of honey.
Leaves come with longitudinal furrows, although smooth to touch, like a mat in the shower to avoid slipping.
Very thin blue bar tab as the strip lines in a school exercise notebook. Externally flower is very modest, almost unnoticeable; one must look closely to see it on the ground. A group of flowers are more visible, but to discern a single flower one should look attentively. In contrast to hyacinths, these do not strike the eye.
They are among the first ones, in thawed patched under the sun. There is still dirt, frost, even the snow. A lot of moisture, a cold one. The insects are hungry. “We are among the first flowers”.
“I feel good in a crowd of the similar ones, a thick group. There is enough moisture for everyone.”
Schoolgirl, persistent, diligent. Does not squirt. “I look modest, I do not show off”. But inside me I notice, remember, think over everything; and I strain. Not a brilliant student, without boasting. But still I make my attempts, apply efforts, I sweat over it. Not outstanding, but very hardworking. I would like them to notice me, but I do not want to be exposed for a show. I notice everything, I am alert to it, pondering myself, but I will not reveal myself”.
Feels like Stages 2 to 6?
â„–3
Childhood memories.
We made “secrets in the grass”. We buried or hid a bead, a flower, a candy wrapper, covered it with a piece of glass. And there wasn’t anything sweeter in the life than that - you create a secret, and you open it yourself. As much as you want to dip, to dive into this grass.
The air satiated with new life, all is new and all of that.
Water, earth moist and wet.
I feel terribly sorry to pick it, to tear it off.
Surprise. Magic. Timid, but brave. Shy. Tenderness. “I can do everything. I am open to anything new. The sensation of everything being new. Changes of mood, quick. You sit in a meditation, you want to write poetry. Or just idly poking in the nose.
The smell is the sweetness of the soul when in love. A kind of foolish and teen-like, almost childlike, love. Any reminder of the “the subject of passion” causes sweetness and shyness.
â„–4
Tenderness. The smell is the memories of my childhood. My happy life in the mountains, everything is interesting, there are so many flowers. Ii’s about 13 years old. The happiest time. Nothing to think about, like a free bird. There is no control over you; no one puts pressure on you. Nobody wants anything from you. Merging with the nature into one single. Carefree. No problems, no immediate day-to-day issues. You are on your own, spending time with your mates. It is interesting, funny, to go hiking, merging with nature. You're not a single flower, but together with all of them making the full bunch.
Trituration proving
[Writing slowly, picking every letter.]
As if together, but alone. We are together with someone, and the opposite - still I'm the only one. I am not understood. They are different, all those around. I want a touch, a contact, like in my youth, I want complete understanding. But here, each one goes his own way. Everyone is different here, they would not understand me. The whole beauty of my essence, hidden deep inside, is impossible to express.
The absolute tenderness.
The feeling is smooth, silky. All what is new smells like this flower. Embroidery in stitch. The skin is young, new, soft hair, tender eyelashes. New notebooks, smooth paper. All is satin.
As a girl with bagels hairstyle.
The anticipation of something that should start.
Containment of impatience.
Shy but brave.
Waiting. The anticipation is a sweet melancholy.
Daydreams, fancies. NaĂŻve tenderness.
Thoughts of love, but they cause confusion and embarrassment. Very clean, no bad thoughts.
Falling in love. For the first time, when you just start to take an interest in the opposite sex. NaĂŻve, childish, not sexual at all. As an admiration for someone, and shyness.
First love. A viola embroidered on the collar. I feel very beautiful in this blouse and I want the boy whom I like to see me in it.
Disappointment is the opposite.
Just to giggle without reason. Do you remember school jokes? Any nonsense is funny. “An eagle and a teddy bear flying, then landed. Let’s go? No, wait, let my ears rest”.
A note comes from a boy in the classroom. He writes any rubbish, he looks at the girl’s reaction and giggles, cunningly but jolly. Boys have wind in the brain at that age. “Pho-o-o, what a fool”.
Or, we drew naked girls, no head, no legs, only the tits.
“C’mon, confess about your child love.” “Tell about that boy”. “Go ahead, talk about your love”. [Some provers sigh, some laugh].
Recalling youngsters’ games, jokes, teasing, nicknames.
“My brother used to throw a set of eggs (30 pcs) from a balcony onto pedestrians”. “Calling a random phone number, saying a bit of stupid nonsense and hanging up”.
Recalling a schoolboy from a rear desk who tugged at my plait. I stood up and downed my schoolbag on his head, breaking the locks.
What was your nickname at school?, Baldy., Why?, I had the best hair in the class. Another one, teapot., Why?, I was very clever and puffed at the stupid ones like a boiling kettle., Mine was, Malvina., I was ratty-betty., [etc]
We wrote albums of songs, in a nice handwriting, we gave them to each other to subscribe them with good wishes, drew pictures, inserted something into them.
We did sweets at the work class lessons, that is, mixing baby food with ice cream and cocoa.
The age is, 6th-7th form of the secondary school, that is 12-13 years old.
We could not avoid a state of changed consciousness. It is recourse into the past; I am not able to command myself. An unusual lack of self-control. You understand what is going on and you must think about it but you are an utter fool in life matters.
A very strange age. Just a jolly foolishness. A blockhead, a dunderhead. A tall fool. You realize that something must happen but it doesn’t, yet. A funny age. The brains are full of nonsense, but some vague desire is already there.
At this age you are not unprotected. You are already grown up enough to be on your own, but you are careless, because you don’t have problems yet. There is family, there are parents. It is still them who decide and solve all your main problems.
Recalling a common songs of our youth:
A girl who was a student
gave lessons in a college
She was so shy and timid
avoiding any noise
In soft and tender manner
she passed on all her knowledge
It was her first time practice.
but the last school year for the boys
The sky was higher, the stars were brighter
The wind was softer, the moon was lighter
When a boy and a girl for the first time in life
Touched the purest secret of the world
Schollgirl, I am the same young schollgirl in my soul.
I was to say the words of love to him and all
But all those rumors round me will make me fall.
A fragile happiness. Sleepless night because of tender love languor. I thought, all of that had died in me, already.
These are the first spring flowers. Everything is anew, again. To remind us of it. That’s why we love spring so much.
Main themes (compilation):
- Shy, modest and indecisive
- Very timid but brave.
- Unnoticed when alone, a group of similars is more visible.
- Schoolgirl, hard working, trying. Not a show-off.
- Young age, teenager, the happiest time.
- Carelessness. Jolly happiness.
- Open to everything new. Sensation that everything is new.
- The first time. Everything happens for the first time.
- The first love.
The were no physical symptoms noticed or mentioned.
A remarkable fact:
Frans Vermuelen asked us for the list of our provings. We gave the list of names, Puschkinia being among them. Only the name, nothing about the proving.
Here is an abstract of his answer:
“Although named for a Russian botanist (Apollo Mussin-Pushkin), the name brings up fond memories with me for the years I was reading nothing else than Russian novelists - Alexander Pushkin first among them.
(I was also quite fond of Tolstoy, Dostoyevski, Turgenev, Gogol, and Goncharov.)”
In brackets, all these authors are among the obligatory literature program in the 5-9 years of study in the secondary school (12-16 y.o.)