Luck and misfortune

In most – maybe even in all – cultures there are pious or even everyday stories whose moral is that nothing that happens to you can be considered an absolute misfortune. The misfortune can always be the gate or the gate opener for a coming fortune. As a rule, this is a statement that everyone can generally already agree with. It can be possible that such a case will happen sometime. But probably the opposite is true. If one has the misfortune, then one has it first of all extensively. So one thinks…

I would like to tell my own story about happiness and unhappiness. It may be a bit lengthy, but misfortune and fortune do not always follow one another as promptly as one would wish in order to make a short story out of it.

The story begins with a dream. When we dream, then our soul wanders in the space- and timelessness. It is „there“, „where“ everything that was and will be, everything that was said and thought and will be, is united at one pivot point and shares something with me on the level of thinking (is thinking perhaps also dreaming? Does every thought perhaps ultimately come from this „place“?) and of acting (does it perhaps look the same with „acting“?).

The dream is told quickly in the rough: I am traveling very fast in a city. I change vehicles several times. My father’s SUV. One of my old motorcycles. I have to watch out at the traffic lights so that I don’t get pushed into the intersection. A helicopter also lands in front of me. A wild ride. Finally, I drive my motorcycle at completely excessive speed into an underground garage. The entrance is wide, makes a right turn and is not completely visible. Meanwhile I have a song on my lips. I belt it out as if in a frenzy. It’s a sequence of four notes LA, LA, LA, LAAAAA!, LA, LA, LA, LAAAAA! Over and over as I speed down the driveway. Then it goes black. All I can hear is my singing from the darkness. The next moment I find myself trying to drag myself up a steel spiral staircase, lying on the steps, out of the underground parking garage. Still this strange singing echoes in the background. I’m hanging on that staircase. Badly injured! Cold horror grips me because I don’t know what happened between my entry into the underground garage and this moment. It must have been a horrible accident of which I have no memory at all. I am hanging on this staircase and I dare not move! Any movement could cause horrible pain! Who knows what bones are all broken! I might be completely shattered! How did I get here in a blackout? Singing this tune and with broken bones. What on earth happened before for a shattering catastrophe?

So much for the dream that announced what was coming. Since everything of us has its root in the unity of the soul world, our soul experiences (dreams) also have meanings on all levels. Both on the physical and on the – yes, what do we call it? – mental, thought, non-material level. I am deliberately putting this so broadly and openly.

On the non-material level, the meaning became quite clear to me. Without wanting to show it to the reader now individually: It was about a concentration on the worldly, which got out of hand and also the consequences, if I want to go full of wrong exuberance with my thoughts elsewhere into the hidden worlds. Much too fast and without looking how it looks behind the curve. I gladly accepted this instruction and recognized the truth resting in it. Twenty years earlier – I have already told the story – I had a corresponding motorcycle accident. I didn’t like the physical plane in this dream and I wondered what was coming.

Barely a week later it happened: I was walking with Charlotte and our dog Pia along a small forest pond and while I was pondering over a beautiful autumn colored beech tree standing on the other bank, I took a step forward with my left foot. Then everything went – as they say – very fast : my left foot touched down and at the same moment slid to the right-inside as if on an inclined ice surface (it was a small wet, smooth and inclined piece of root). I fell to the side like a felled tree robbed of its statics – „That’s it!“ I thought while still falling – and hit the edge of a tree stump near the ground with my lateral chest. It cracked and I had to scream – like at that time with the motorcycle – from fright and/or pain first of all a little (and also swear strongly). Now I lay there, half the face in the soft and so fragrant forest floor buried, motionless, to Charlotte, who knelt next to me, squinting up, already again sweet-sour and a little distorted grin „Man, what a bummer!“. Silence returned. And I didn’t dare to move – as in a dream and as then after the motorcycle accident. Too great was the fear of now moving the definitely broken ribs and thereby perhaps triggering a torrent of pain. As in the dream – and as after the motorcycle accident – I knew nothing of the extent of my injuries.

With careful picking up it went then and we also arrived safely at home.

Now I could not lie in bed at night. The pain was too great, so that I now had to sleep for some weeks willy-nilly, well supported and fixed with pillows, in a half-sitting position. What a misfortune it all was!!!

So much for the misfortune as it had taken its course. And as it had been announced in the dream. The motorcycle accident – It will be like… like… like… like that time…! the motorcycle accident! A fall from nowhere. The injuries are minor. Just like back then. The accident twenty years ago! The picture fitted well to what the traveling soul had experienced that night in the dream. So then the oracle picture was given to me. A past memory as a picture for a future memory.

After that, the happiness began: After a week of sitting sleep, I noticed that, surprisingly, I was no longer as exhausted in the morning as I had been in the past. Sure, I was dog-tired from waking up every night from the unusual sleeping position, but I wasn’t as beat up anymore. I used to have headaches in the morning, my calves hurt, and my blood pressure was probably off the charts. On those mornings, I was very aware that under those circumstances, I probably wouldn’t be on this earth much longer and would probably pass away in the not-too-distant future. Why that should always be so. After getting up, everything was seemingly blown away – until the next morning. Some time before the accident, I began to actively ask for healing on this point. I was really worried and my desire to succumb to a night stroke was low.

House dust mites! Or rather the feces of these animals. An allergy! If I spent the night in the haze of microscopic floating excrements of microscopic arachnids living in masses in the beds (in all beds in the world, I might add), my organism went crazy. If I sat in bed, I breathed freely like a little child and woke up fresh and vigorous! We bought mite feces-proof underbed linen and that was it! I recovered. The request came true and the misfortune of the fall brought happiness. Actually, it was not surprising. Spiders have for me a strong otherworldly reference. Already downright a death reference. Our connection is close. And to the spiders also the ticks and the dust mites belong.

Pain must never be allowed to guide us. Our actions grow out of the fearless knowledge of our security in the meaning, of our soulfulness and of the eternal unity of everything. We always act in love for everything and everyone. There is no inner separation. Pain alone must never guide us.

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