We perform constellations throughout our entire lives—from the very moment we enter this world until our last breath... And so it goes, each time. Sometimes the constellation is more successful, other times less so. Sometimes it is clear, other times not at all. But often, the most puzzling constellations leave a profound mark on our soul, while the clearest ones yield no visible result.

But the Soul—it doesn't mind; it is in harmony with the constellation process itself. Today in one, tomorrow in another... and so on, endlessly. I suspect it has idle moments, times when it gets utterly bored, and this can last for years. That’s why any constellation process feels thrilling to it...

And so, a person is born, and their constellation begins. For some, it is more successful. Perhaps because they intuitively know the rules? In my opinion, children should be taught "Constellations" as a subject in school. After all, children deal with family constellations every day, yet they remain unaware of the rules of the game. They grow up to become adults—still no rules. And often, even grandparents don't know them.

But thankfully, there are people who do know the rules — Facilitators. I am one of them as well, but the stories I share here are told by me as a "Client," or, with the client's permission, as a "Facilitator."

I — everything material and living around me — it is all me, and I am life itself. This was how my unfolding of a symbiotic trauma began. It was the birth of pure life. I was woven together with the entire world. It was contact — the very contact people dream of when they speak of aliens. It was the arrival of aliens on Earth and an instant connection with all living things. That was my birth — and my contact with the surrounding world. The world was bright and joyful. Joy overflowed within me in every shade of the rainbow, spilling all around.

TRAUMA — I am very small, perhaps only a month old. I was born into a silent void. Around me, for thousands of kilometers, there is a snowy, icy desert. There are no people here — only their distant shadows. I feel cold and lonely. There is no one to share the rainbow of joy with, and it slowly begins to fade. It becomes smaller, and I gather it inside myself, pulling it inward and hiding it under the tight bundle of swaddling cloth. It confines and binds me; I cannot move, and, most painfully, I cannot shine. The world around me is gray and lifeless.

— I’m here, I came for you, — I gently lift the tiny baby, supporting her head. She is so small, so full of lost hope, waiting. At the touch of warmth, light and joy begin to return, filling us both. I press her little ear to my heart — my heart grows enormous, beating impossibly loud for her. — You are not alone; I and my heart are here for you. — She believes me and begins to breathe deeply and freely, unfolding her colored rays. A rainbow of happiness wraps around us. My little one slowly grows — I feed her warm, rich milk. She coos and plays with her tongue, making her first contact with a living human being. I offer her my finger; she reaches for the second one. We taste it. Contact! First steps, the first bow... She grows... We are now of the same age and time, and we can meet here and now. She feels my sadness and sees my soul’s scars. We embrace. My body relaxes, and the scars life has left upon me smooth away, flowing with the tension into the earth. This is not the wild joy of the beginning, but the calm joy of life and closeness. The closeness I sought outside has come from within... It is closeness with myself and contact with the whole world...

P.S. By “the world,” I mean the world of nature — for now. As for the world of people, I’m not sure... But here on Madeira, I feel free: the island is so bright, the ocean immense, my rainbow less noticeable, and it feels safer to shine... Yet I long to share it…

August 9, 2025

In regular font — a description of real events, no matter how strange they may seem.

It was early evening — I was sitting in my tiny park on a wonderful island. I felt happy and full of energy — both emotionally and physically (which is important). I wasn’t just sitting, I was using the exercise machines, occasionally making strange movements with my hands — maybe a structural constellation, maybe just drawing bagua circles in the air... I don’t remember exactly.

At the same time, I was checking Telegram — I like staying in touch with my husband. Eric sent me a photo: a beautiful card — a dedication from Nicholas Silver. A forgotten episode from the past — ten years ago. Nicholas is gone now…

I studied the handwritten notes carefully. I’d been to a few of his seminars, but he never became a close teacher to me — now I understand why. My new NAME (Solota), the dedication, and the inviting phrase: “Touching a miracle, you become part of the miracle.”

Beautiful... Thinking about Nicholas, I felt a strange energy shift in the space — and I saw him. He was literally floating in the air and touched my heart with his hand. His teaching was based on love and the connectedness of people through this energy... or something like that.

The touch was literal — and then he entered me through the heart. At the time I wasn’t aware of it, but I felt a strange relaxation and a rush of happiness. Crystals began to emerge from my heart — pure, perfectly shaped. Everything started to restructure — it was a new space for me, with several passages luring into the unknown. It felt like a lucid dream. I was confused…

I thought about it a bit, exercised some more, and went home feeling “light as a feather.”

Met with my husband on Teams. We chatted. Eric noticed how great I looked — even on camera my expanded energetic field was visible.

“That’s you. That’s what you’re really like — that’s the shape of your youth!” he admired.

We loaded a Portuguese lesson and watched it together. My laptop was acting up badly: windows popped up and disappeared, the sound cut in and out, the video was lagging… I began to feel unwell. I still have an unresolved trauma — a strange reaction to distorted sound and visuals, especially online.

By the end of the video I felt truly awful: everything was spinning, my brain jolted, a strange context shift occurred, emotions shut off. Nicholas had found a passage through the trauma...

That night I woke up in a completely dark room. I couldn’t understand who I was. My eyes couldn’t see, tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t speak… Calling my husband saved me. I looked at his face — so calm and steady, barely recognizing it. I could hardly identify myself — I was barely moaning. My face was swollen, tears rolled from puffy eye slits…

In the morning I woke up a different person. I understood what a person in depression feels — NOTHING. No emotions, no desires, no thoughts. The body barely moves, actions are automatic — I’M A ZOMBIE. I don’t remember much of the day, but luckily, in the evening I had a session with a Constellation practitioner.

The Constellation. We placed two figures — Me in the Zombie state and That Which Caused the state shift. Later we added God and the part of me that had received the NAME.

By the way, I couldn’t access my laptop for a while — the camera wouldn’t turn on, Task Manager didn’t help, nor did a full reboot. I used my phone instead.

Zombie-Me was locked in a dark room inside herself — without light, life, or feelings. And That Which Caused it — a gray-haired, thin man, of course, Silver. He calmly sat in lotus pose inside me.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t invite you or allow you to be in my body! Get out!” I shouted angrily.

“You did. I was flying by, saw a beautiful garden — and you invited me in with a gesture. There was a sign, a gesture of invitation... I can’t leave now — give me a reverse gesture…”

I tried to remember the structural constellation gestures I might have made, and searched for a ‘reverse gesture — of banishment.’

He clearly enjoyed being inside me and had no intention of leaving. Of course he lied about the gestures. The old man travels the world after death, using the bodies of his living students. And there are thousands. No wonder — he spent seven years as Osho’s personal student...

Only one thing surprised Nicholas — why I could see him. Others can’t. Maybe he wasn’t interested in Constellations in life. Or maybe I saw his true essence…

I started returning the NAME to the teacher — tore up the card (found cardboard of a similar color), brought a lighter to it.

We placed God. Not without distortion, of course. God giggled because the scene appeared to him like this — me as a giant vagina and Silver sticking out of me upside down…

“God, I was just sitting here, it flew in and got stuck... Do something!” God giggled louder. That didn’t feel like a real God... So we replaced this sex-obsessed god with a projection-free version…

“God…” — for the first time in my life I prayed aloud, hands clasped to my chest — “Look, I’m alive, and he’s from another world! I want to live. Do something!”

A connection… What kind of connection? We were fused — Silver and I — linked into a single structure inside my head. I even saw his “third eye” — or some eye from the Indian tradition.

The Constellation practitioner found the link. The part of me that received the dedication and carries the NAME. She sat with sightless eyes in a dark room — without feelings or thoughts.

The connection broke. Silver slowly detached and left without looking back, as if nothing had happened…

I was shaking badly. I was coming back to life… As if months or years had passed in confinement, not just a single day. Though for one part of me, it had lasted a full decade.

P.S. I changed the laptop password (almost lost my data — BitLocker kicked in). The camera started working again after adjustment.

May 12, 2025

I gazed into the well and saw myself there. The water was dark and still — it reflected my beautiful face like the guardian of my narcissistic complex. A face untouched by others’ gazes, unwarped by emotion, untouched by fear. A face that needed no one. It was content — alone, in the silence of its depth and perfect calm.

I couldn’t see the Client, but I felt him — he stood somewhere nearby. He watched us with interest, tried to make out my face, but couldn’t — and his interest faded. My face began to change: muscles stirred, as if searching for their true expression.

“Don’t look there,” said my Narcissist. “They’ll show you differently. They’ll break the peace. Tarnish the beauty. You may only look at the sun, the ocean, the mountains, and the greenery — they don’t distort your reflection but make it even more beautiful. Just not at people,” he repeated.

I dipped my hand into the water. The Narcissist’s face trembled and vanished. I washed my face. The water was pleasantly cold. Narciss stood guard, keeping me from descending into the well’s depths, into the darkness of my fears. But was it really so frightening? What was I truly afraid of? Meeting the Clients? My own nightmares?

I lowered my real face into the water — and the water began to brighten. It became clean, transparent. The stone walls were clearly visible through it. I could peer into the very depth of myself. And that depth was breathtaking.

Looking back at the Client, I realized: my fears were born of a misconception. I thought I had to see the Client from within my own depths. But he has his own story, his own fears, his own abyss. And those are astonishingly interesting stories. Looking at the Client, I saw myself more clearly. But it was still hard to look directly at his face…

I placed my hands into the water. Narciss felt the boundaries of his body, and within him a wave stirred — alive, real. He, too, began to awaken.

I lowered my real face into the water — and the water began to brighten. It became clean, transparent. The stone walls were clearly visible through it. I could peer into the very depth of myself. And that depth was breathtaking.

I approached the well and dove in completely. I swam through its depths, as though through underwater caves, among corals and grottoes. It was a marvelous, unexplored world — my subconscious and the stories woven into it.

I returned with Venetian masks in my hands. I approached the Client and, changing them one after another, showed him faces — not mine, but those who lived in his requests. The Client watched without looking away. His fears dissipated, and clarity took their place. And in that moment, I saw his calm face. And mine — the real one — turned out to be just as beautiful as in the reflection of the well. We exchanged glances — surprised and joyful, as if seeing each other for the first time. The constellation was complete.

P.S. These days, psychologists increasingly say: the narcissistic complex is not uncommon. It takes different forms. And they offer reassurance: people with this complex are far from ordinary. They are capable of achieving incredible heights. Now I can agree with them.

Request — Me, the defense complex, and the Client... May 5, 2025

The constellation field—a milky-white organic substance—is, in essence, the Field of Information, which holds everything one might need. Reading this field is allowed to people through certain keys—an access card, if you will. If you've been handed the card to read a fragment—go ahead, read it. If not—don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. The Field is neither good nor evil—it merely opens a small portion of data available to a person or group at a given moment. There's so much information that unrestricted access could drive someone mad. Problems are inevitable... There are few such individuals, but the Field has seen them—and I ended up being one of those rule-breakers. Something began to distort the reading process. A bright crystal burns in my third eye—it blinds it. I can no longer see the Field. I'm ascending through a tube, rising above the white Info-layer, reaching the stratosphere. People aren’t supposed to be here, but now—I can read everything from everyone.

In my forehead, I discovered an Entity—non-organic, deeply curious, much like myself, endlessly fascinated by little things. With its help, I rise beyond the permitted limits and read the Field from above. But it takes a wild amount of energy—I have to spiral it around me just to carry out this forbidden ascent. I managed to get rid of the Entity, but I must stay alert—it’s a crafty one. I still sense traces of it in my third eye. It probably got in when I was trying to gather more info, pushing boundaries. I always want more and never back down! By the way, I never ask anyone! But as it turns out, that’s not always harmless… The Field waved a white card at me… I got the message. Updating the setting: “I don’t ask anyone—except the Field!”

The edge of the white mist parted briefly, and I glimpsed living, flexible tubes (some were colored in the palest pastel shades). They appeared on request and connected to info access points. Many people were there—a thoughtful professor swiped a worn-out card, got the Info, and skipped away like a freshman, joyfully waving his gradebook-key. A concerned doctor arrived, a dying patient hovering in a cloud of sorrow above him. The sacred card beeped—the doctor now cheerfully rolled the patient ahead, waving flowers and candy... Others came too, more serious folk — Mr.Green with a stack of colored cards, sorting through them at the access point. Not getting the answer he sought, he left in quiet disappointment. Mr.Traveler with his entourage approached the cozy cosmic elevator confidently—the entourage remained below, letting through Mr.Trumpcard and a little Chinese man who looked like a gray eminence...

Then I saw the familiar Entity—it rose up through the elevator shaft, its little hooks and titanium threads sparkling above me... I felt release…

The Field laid out the rules for me—read only with the Field’s permission and only within what is revealed. Don’t read the Field with your third eye—read it with your mirror neurons.

You have to trust the Field and sync with it, rather than store and process the information. There's a cord that carries the info from the Field through the Constellation Facilitator (a Representative or Client—really, anyone who came here) and delivers the exact data needed in each specific case. The cord connects to the Field through a socket (an access point), not by shooting off into the stratosphere. So stop trying to jump to the sky. But sometimes, oh, how tempting it is to reach for the heavens!

This is precisely the moment to recall Icarus—and the old saying: curiosity burnt Barbara’s brain in the stratosphere, and she lost her nose on the way down... in the cosmic elevator back to Earth.

Just imagine the cognitive acceleration I’ve built up over these past two years! Now, I’ll finally put it to good use... Found it—the Big Resource!

Query – after constellation work, there's a major brain acceleration and a massive energy drain… April 14, 2025

Sasha was a little girl, barely a year and a half old. Confused and lonely. And, naturally, she had never seen Money, for children have no need for it…

In the Field of Constellations, a young woman appeared, bearing a striking resemblance to Little Red Riding Hood. She wore a traditional German folk costume, as if she had stepped straight out of a Brothers Grimm fairy tale. The poor girl was constantly moving between her mother’s home and her grandmother’s cottage, deep in the forest. The winding forest paths, towering trees, moss-covered rocks, tiny birds, and friendly little woodland creatures surrounded her. And, of course, there was also the Gray Wolf…

The vivid fairy-tale imagery reflected the imagination of a child who found these constant relocations unbearable—moving back and forth between her grandparents and her mother and father, the Gray Wolf. Again and again… She longed for closeness with her mother and a sense of security.

As Sasha grew older in the Constellation, her protective fairy-tale thinking allowed her to reveal a wisdom far beyond her years—an understanding of her own wholeness and resilience, unshaken by any number of relocations. And there were many—her mother remarried, leading to yet another series of moves. Gradually, Sasha came to a realization: she had never truly been alone. So many people had provided her with shelter and care. Sometimes, they were complete strangers, even from different countries… Then came the war, bringing back memories of Poland in its early days, of England, and then of Poland once more. Tears of gratitude glistened on the Client’s face.

But what about Money, the reader may ask? At first, money lay hidden beneath a hill in the forest where her grandmother lived. Then, it became scattered scraps of paper drifting in the sea. On the shore, a frail hut appeared, sheltering an old woman—then a young girl with nothing to her name. Countless ancestral tales of hardship played out on the Field of Constellations. Yet the Client courageously navigated her way from familial loyalty to recognizing the value of her own life and her ability to find her path to financial prosperity. She drew upon her past experiences, knowledge, extraordinary creative thinking, and unwavering drive for security and stability. And, of course, she embraced her maturity and sense of purpose—for after all, money is not for children…

Gradually, the money in the sea multiplied—first, stacks of banknotes sealed in plastic, then entire bundles. Finally, money manifested in every possible form: cash, cards, checks, digital transactions, and online accounts. The sea vanished, replaced by the Process of Money Creation. Now, the Client saw design tools, building blocks, AI applications, and opportunities for creative combinations in her work. And she saw a multitude of clients, each bringing her income.

To be honest, this was not a typical Constellation but a cumulative one, undertaken by a Client who had already worked through her childhood traumas and her relationship with creativity and money. Wishing you success as you continue your journey in the real world…

Query: Me and Money... March 5, 2025

P.S. During the Constellation, many figures were introduced. Listing them all would be tedious for the reader, so I will simply say that, in the end, only the Client, Money, and the Process of its Creation remained.

I am one and a half years old. I am sitting on the edge of the galaxy, swinging my little legs... I am very brave—I am not scared at all. There is no one around, I am completely alone, and only countless planets and stars surround me. It feels so good to be alone in the darkness, illuminated by the light of the stars. It is safe. The stars and solitude are not dangerous; people are dangerous...

As an adult, I remembered how, at one and a half years old, I jumped off the windowsill upon seeing my dad through the window, but landed with the bridge of my nose on the rim of a metal basin in which my mom was washing clothes—the scar remained for life...

That traumatic fall split me into two parts—the me of today and that little girl sitting on the edge of the galaxy. In terms of bodily sensations—into the right and left halves. It is safe there, there are no people... people are unsafe—they place "basins" in your way... My Ajna chakra flew off to that galaxy during the fall... My Light rushed after it...

I approached the little girl and took her by the heels.

And so we grew closer... Truthfully—we all crave contact and understanding from someone close, physical touch, and bodily closeness.

Suddenly, I saw myself at eight months old, crying in a playpen, and felt her desire for contact and the warmth of her mom, who did not come—this is how the avoidant attachment type forms—an unfulfilled desire for closeness and simultaneously running away from "dangerous" people to the edge of the galaxy.

Then I saw myself at two years old—sitting on an old couch, crying bitterly—they took away my magazine with a photo of the Galaxy, and my Ajna and Light are flying there. The page has been turned, that Galaxy is unreachable. This is how a passionate desire to be understood was born, for others to understand what I want, to guess my desires (if they don’t understand—I regress to the age of two, and a burning resentment overwhelms me).

My childhood parts were getting closer to me, but they still needed contact, especially physical contact, understanding, and the guessing of desires. I pressed the youngest one to my tummy, the one-and-a-half-year-old was swinging on the edge of the universe, kicking her legs, allowing me to place my hands under her heels, just in case, for safety... The older one was still sitting on the couch, examining the worn upholstery...

I thought, what a capricious child, but then I stopped myself. After all, it was not me who said that, but my mom inside me. I will never say such a thing to you again or treat you the way mom did... And at that moment, the Galaxy began to return to me through the third eye, through the crown of my head, filling the right side of my body, merging with the left. I felt warmth in my spine and wholeness in my body.

The Universe continued to enter me through the third eye. The last to enter was the Andromeda Nebula, bringing with it my Ajna and Light. Through the crown of my head, distant galaxies continued to enter, stars scattered across my physical body and subtle bodies. In the center, I felt all 7 chakras, neatly placed among the stars in their rightful places. And I felt that crucial contact a person needs—contact with oneself, one's light, and the inner universe.

This request was part of a series of works with the chakras... March 6, 2025

In Ajna – a log cabin in the midst of a vast, snow-covered forest – a hunter steps out, clad in fur boots, rifle in hand. Wolves, deer, and moose roam the woods. An old moose, fleeing the hunter, strikes him in the temple. The hunter falls and dies. The moose stands still for a long time, listening to the forest. Somewhere in the distance, wolves howl. He has two enemies – man and wolf. Slowly, he moves along the path. He is old, his teeth yellowed, his breath labored, his vision fading. He struggles to lift his heavy hooves, while the wolves draw ever closer… He collapses to his knees, realizing that the end is inevitable… In his vast eyes lies a deep sorrow, and a tear falls… Life was so beautiful. A love for existence overwhelms him. It is so hard to leave… Powerful emotions surge through him… The wolves are near… This is the end… The hunter’s soul watches from above in quiet wonder, feeling none of these emotions… To it, this is simply an endless, snow-covered wilderness and the end…

I am little Sonia, my father is a hunter. Antlers and wild animal pelts are everywhere. I touch them and imagine them alive, feeling their fur stir, sensing their knowing gaze, their soul. A deep sorrow and pain fill me, knowing that people kill animals, and even other people… I do not love humans; they are cruel, they are killers. Bitter tears stream down my face…

I am grown now, telling my story. I live on an island in the ocean, the most beautiful and free of all islands, far from war, far from killing. I could never live where people take lives. People are different. Still, I do not love them… Only some of them…

Little Sonia gradually finds peace, and in her Ajna, we see a magnificent, glowing violet crystal. Around her are many animals – moose, deer, roe deer – but no wolves… The animals, too, have crystals, and their large, intelligent eyes brim with feeling. There are people as well, many of them, but sadly, only a few have shining crystals in their Ajna…

Query - Me and the Ajna Chakra... February 24, 2025

There was a sage within me. He turned a small pyramid – a miniature replica of an Egyptian pyramid – in his hands and pondered many things…

The symptom was guilt for murder. I had violated the balance of the universe. The divine law—thou shalt not kill… thou shalt not kill thy neighbor… I was guilty, and I sentenced myself. At first, my guilt was small, barely noticeable, lingering only in my energy field… It hovered above me, tethered by a thin thread… But year after year, the guilt grew stronger, seeping into my body through my abdomen… and it took hold of my stomach (meaning my life) and began to destroy me—at first, by refusing to digest food, then by violently rejecting it.

I had killed a child—not by my own hands, but by coming to those who did. Under anesthesia, everything looked different—I saw the instrument they used, the one they prodded into me, or rather, into the living child inside me. It was a metallic rod with a pyramid-shaped tip. And with this pyramid, they pierced and pierced the living heart until its beat slowed… and then ceased. Inside me, in the depths of my abdomen, an emptiness remained in the shape of that pyramid, while the child fluttered out like a comet, soaring into the heavens. I rushed after it, but I could not fly far, bound to my body by an invisible thread. The comet vanished into the sky, its trail rising higher and higher until it was nearly gone. Inside me, oceans of tears had gathered in grief, yet they did not flow outward. They streamed within, accumulating. In the center of my chest was a void, but the tears refused to fill it… I contemplated how I had violated the sacred act of human creation and was lost in deep mourning. My guilt was boundless. It was guilt for every murder in the universe, and this guilt and shame had to be worked through—yet the part of me that had remained suspended on that thread of guilt began to kill me… through my stomach, expelling food from my body… That’s how I found it…

Retrieving it was difficult. I had to pull on the thread, to speak of the difference between guilt and responsibility, to remind myself that there is war now, and thousands of living adults are killing each other, and that twenty-five years had passed since the comet of interrupted life had left and would never return. It helped a little…

What can stand against universal guilt and shame? Perhaps universal love, its understanding, and the transmission of knowledge about the higher structure and laws of the universe… Wise reflection on life and death, speaking of it, might help us connect… And the Sage continued to gaze at us serenely, studying the little pyramid with deep understanding.

The next day, something astonishing happened—I was flung even further back in my life, almost thirty-nine years, to the moment of my child’s birth. That incredibly tender, joyous moment had also been traumatic for me, a nineteen-year-old girl. My young, fragmented self had remained behind—left on the gynecological chair, bewildered and forgotten by everyone… Later, I saw her wandering the hospital corridors in an otherworldly glow, unable to find her way out. And guess who managed to retrieve her? Of course, my thirty-three-year-old self—the murderer. It feels strange to call her that. Instead, I will name her by her age. It was odd to see them—nineteen and thirty-three—understanding each other so well. The giver of life and the taker of it. They had both touched the great mystery of the universe, of life and death… The giver and the taker… Perhaps the universe has its own plans for us, beyond our comprehension, though at times, the veil is lifted…

That night, something unbelievable happened—I saw and experienced my own birth. It was unbearably difficult in my mother’s womb, the pressure was immense, more mental than physical. When I saw the light, I moved toward it with hope, carrying the unconditional love of a newborn… Yet it seemed I found no response, and I became stuck in the process of emerging, without hope for love in return… And do you know who met me with love this time? My nineteen- and thirty-three-year-old selves… The puzzle was coming together. Three more lost fragments of me returned.

Suddenly, I realized that the small pyramid the Sage within me was studying—perhaps a remnant of my own past karmic incarnation, for I had encountered him before—had now filled the emptiness in my abdomen. And the pyramid, once an instrument of murder, perfectly fit the hole in my heart… And at last, I wept—real tears streamed from my eyes… and I felt lighter…

Query – symptom: a series of strange poisonings… Figures – Me and the Symptom. The Sage was added, and in the end, I existed in four ages (0, 19, 33, and today)... January 27, 2025

I gazed at the sky—or rather, I stared into the block of ice surrounding me. It was blue, tinged with shades of indigo or perhaps a soft violet, much like my eyes. My curly, light hair was frozen artfully as if caught in a breeze within the icy embrace of this azure block. I was naked, seemingly suspended. Snowflakes settled on the ice, their intricate shapes remarkably clear...

But I had been clothed when I entered the icy sanctuary. A piece of stone broke off and pierced my head. Blood soaked my garments. I felt no pain—after all, the brain doesn’t register it. I removed my clothes, yet the blood continued to stream down my beautiful, pale body with a subtle olive hue. And they considered me unattractive?! Oh, gods, who, then, could be called beautiful? Though, admittedly, my mother with her alabaster skin and jet-black hair was truly a beauty. My father had seen it too.

It is through his eyes that I now see these people gathered around the block of ice, gawking at me... *A divine punishment encased by a god,* murmured the crowd. Nonsense. I had simply leapt towards the waterfall to wash away the blood and lost my footing. The icy waters swept me into an underground lake, carrying me to the river. I ended up in a cove of blue clay, where I remained. They carefully carved me out and put me on display. *Whoever defies the god’s decrees and strays from the path will face retribution.*

A compass for that path—that is what my descendants need. Though I have no children. Never mind; I’ll embed this code into the soul for its future incarnations. Let them follow the course. And they did—five times, for five centuries, or perhaps millennia. Souls aren’t adept at mathematics, and for them, time is but a stream.

But in the sixth instance, I emerged again. This internal compass restrained me because I was treading an uncharted path, yet it was my path. Each misstep tightened an iron boot around my mind—again and again. For half a century, I’ve been prying apart its metal bars. The sixth decade has arrived—and so, the number six revealed itself.

A couple of years ago, I had already glimpsed her—or myself?—encased in ice. Here’s what I wrote that day: “I have blue eyes and very light curly hair (though in reality my eyes are brown, and my hair is dark and straight). I lie naked, half-reclined, in a bluish-transparent block of ice, its facets cut like those of a massive diamond. I am completely encased in ice… and it is exquisite. I look outwards and see snowflakes swirling lazily in the air, surrounded by snow-covered mountains and forests. I feel no fear. I am exactly where I should be. I feel the same grandeur and tranquility as the unparalleled nature around me…”.

She had come to show what happens to those who stray from the path and to ensure the compass was aligned.

It seems doubts about me arose, and the allowed radius began to expand. Our next meeting took place at a Constellation session. She passed on her love and the right to choose my own direction. Well then, let’s take a stroll, explore, and attempt to transform the iron boot into wings. As they say, time will tell...

The inquiry was about a headache... The Constellation session was magical—my first in Madeira, and my first karmic one. December 2022

I stood on a mountain, arms outstretched. My eyes were closed, yet through my eyelids, I sensed the sun's glimmers... My arms were spread wide and lifted – I was catching the wind... no, not the wind – it was a flow, an energy I always knew how to find and move with... Creating extraordinary projects that brought immense returns... Sometimes it was vivid, sometimes less so. But I lost it... I got stuck and stopped... I was utterly empty without it... Four years have passed, and I still stand alone, completely empty and motionless... And only in my heart does something stir – pain and longing... and fear... a double sorrow for two losses that always stays with me...

Her name was Lina... She was my friend, my partner, my inner strength, my soul... Cities and countries passed before us, sometimes even continents... You gave me so much, and I gave you even more... You went to another continent, and I was left stranded here, outside of life... But it’s time to move forward, time to choose life. I keep all the gifts you gave me, and I return yours – use them as you see fit. I keep all the memories of our meetings, but now I choose myself... I choose my life...

His name was Jev – my best business project. It was passion, drive; I had never felt more alive... And it was mutual... People, money, resources – everything came as if by magic... And then it stopped, just as suddenly. It was like an engine in a speeding car that jumped, broke apart, and vanished... It died slowly... I supported it with all my might for as long as I could. And then there were only two of us left – a memory of life, but I wouldn’t let go of it. “Business is always a risk, 50/50,” said old Jev. “When you let me go, you’ll also release the fear of new loss. It’s over for me...” And I agreed...

My new project stood close by, waiting for attention and love. I looked at it, and a new connection began to form. Investors joined us, watching closely and sternly, expecting my energy and passion. I was coming back...

Request – investments for a new project.

I am very small, just 4-5 months old. My wide-open eyes dart back and forth, back and forth, searching for the source of my unease. Turning slightly to my right, I saw my father and what lay within him… It was his tormented, withered soul, and it terrified me. I tried to help, but it was impossible. His soul was completely consumed by dark matter… just cold, despair, and a numbing stillness came over me from that contact. I know this stillness—a complete loss of self-identity, preventing any connection with the real world. If I don’t exist, how can I interact with anything beyond myself?

But how does my father cope with this entity? How did it come to inhabit him? He seemed perfectly at ease with it. It entered him as a boy, capturing his soul through a street cat that scratched his face. For him, it was comfortable—living thoughtlessly, drunkenly, and carelessly with dark matter instead of a soul. But life came to an end, and the entity began seeking a new body, a new victim. It found me thousands of kilometers away, drawn by that familiar stillness… My brave cat Barsik fought it off; his entire face was scratched, and the wounds wouldn’t heal. The entity clung to him, hoping to find its new host…

Now I see you, dark matter. There is no place for you in me. I no longer need to help my father—his fate is his own. I am small, and he is big. I held my little one in my arms and felt overwhelming tenderness and love. Light was born in my soul, and the gray sticky shreds of the entity drifted away from our fingers… our faces, necks, and chests. The light grew brighter, dissolving the darkness. Reality began to emerge… Life filled me…

P.S. Barsik’s face healed quickly, and after catching up on sleep, my brave savior returned to hunting field mice…

Request – decoding a dream… A witch who relentlessly pursues me no matter where I run…

I am the Brain—large, pale, and intricately grooved. I am completely exposed from above, but my capabilities far exceed my physical size. I extend far beyond the boundaries allowed by my host (that is, Me, the Client), yet I cannot operate with a 360-degree scope. My active sectors can span multiple roles simultaneously—for example, I can be the Client, the Constellation Facilitator, and a Representative all within one sector… then shift to being a copywriter, writer, lawyer, or translator in another. But switching between them requires effort.

The switch is a rather crude mechanism. If the Brain could feel pain, it would describe this process as painful. It’s energy-intensive. One moment I’m the Facilitator, and then—snap!—a rough handle jerks me over to Quality Control Engineer. The process is a chaotic, agonizing expenditure.

There are two solutions. The first is taking breaks between switches—allowing for profound bodily relaxation, letting the body settle. The switch’s handle moves out of phase, rising higher and transitioning to another sector without scraping against the Brain. What bliss—context switching becomes painless!

The second solution is that I (the Brain) need a Protective Plate. I crave it! Now, the switch slides against the Plate rather than me. The Plate is made of a firm material, while the switch becomes more pliable, adapting to the Plate’s surface. I am safe!

I (the Brain) recall when I was physically injured in an accident. I fully recovered and even enhanced my abilities, but maintaining a 360-degree awareness has always been too much. Besides, the doctors promised (and this was a fact) to attach a plate to the damaged area of my skull.

I (the Client) realized I no longer need to monitor everything indiscriminately at 360 degrees. I can work selectively, but on a massive scale and with great reach. By combining deep relaxation and a safety Plate for transitioning between activities, I achieve balance. The most astonishing part? This virtual Plate materialized on my head just a couple of hours after the Constellation session. My Brain is saved; it’s secure… I am secure. The fragmented fracture at the base of my skull healed five years ago without surgery, but my Brain still carried the trauma, waiting for the promised protection. Now it has it, and it’s finally over...

Inquiry: Difficulty in context switching. Figures involved: Client, Brain, and Switch, with the Protective Plate added during the process.