This article was published on

When I saw my first Calypso Orchid in the shade of Spruce trees in the foothills of Alberta, I felt enchanted and decided right away, that one day I will dive into its energy to understand the strong attraction I felt. Three years later I was ready to do it.

In June 2010 a group of 2 men and 3 women met in Calgary, Alberta, in order to do a C4-homeopathic trituration of the Calypso Orchid (Calypso bulbosa).

The group of homeopaths that dared to go into the Calypso energy without any idea of what they are getting into, was truly courageous. All participants were highly sensitive and trained in the perception of subtle energies and perfectly able to express their inner experience in the limiting vehicle of our human language. It was a perfect group for venturing into the unknown terrain of our inner landscape, where our inner Calypso is growing tucked away in hidden corners of our soul. I want to express my highest respect and gratitude for their comradeship, the support and the safe space they held for each other on this journey into the eddies of our desire and pain. Calypso rewarded us with deep insight that helped us to transform old pains.

In the following write up I will simply call the female participants F1, F2 and F3, and the male participants M1 and M2. As all of the participants had been homeopaths studying the sensation method, we tried to express the basic sensation after each C-level in order to better grasp this often hidden aspect of the remedy picture. This is why you will find the sensation at the end of the contribution of each participant. If the quality of the sensation was expressed in a gesture, then this is mentioned as well.



There is a longing, a desire, a yearning. Something enchanting is calling me, not loud, not obviously. Something is attracting me. A woman letting me see a little bit of her exposed breast, as if by coincidence, yet still intentionally. A hush of a smile, a whiff of a smell of a flower, of a sensuous perfume. She is not even looking at me, I do not know if she is aware of my stare, of the hunger, the desire she evoked in me.

I fall for her, attracted like a moth to a candle flame. Enchanted. I want to sink into the arms of this woman, I want to disappear in her. I feel like drugged. Drugged by my own desire, which gets me out of my mind. I can’t think straight anymore. I would leave my wife and my children for that woman, for that promise to completely expand into a cloud of sensuality, into a colourful fragrance.

The German myth of the Loreley comes to mind: Her singing, her golden hair, her body hardly hidden seduces the fisherman to go with his boat in dangerous currents and perish on the rocks.

A promise of blissful fulfillment is stimulating my body, my soul. Being with this woman must be like being enlightened, it is not about sex, it is the highest bliss, physical and spiritual.

I am intoxicated. I am losing control over myself, there is no reason, no willpower in this body of mine anymore. Reality does not matter. The crying of my hungry children, the tears in my wife’s eyes, they do not reach me, do not touch me. I only see this treacherous yet overpowering image, this otherworldly elf, this nymph, that took my soul away. It is like an eddy, a whirling vortex of bliss that sucks me in. I have no resistance. Being reasonable, thinking clearly would be like cutting out the most precious part of who I am.

I am intoxicated with a magic potion, caught in utmost beauty and I am ready to surrender to it. And if this body should be ruined afterwards, if my soul should be insane, if I should wander the streets in rags, it is all worth it. I am willing to give myself up. It feels as if I will find what I am thirsty for deep in my soul. If someone would tell me, it is poison and if I drink it, I would die, I would drink twice as much to make sure, I would never wake up.

I feel bewitched, I am a victim of this fascination. I also can feel the arrogance on the other side but I block it out.

The overall sensation in this C1 is one of letting go of myself in a whirling eddy, in colours yellow and orange; I am twisting, sinking and disappearing in complete bliss.


Female genitalia, folds of skin beckoning. Sexual liaisons, affairs, one night stands. Intoxicating attraction. Many suitors swirling, buzzing around the princess, hoping to be chosen to be the one who finds what lies beneath her finery.

There is an outer life and an inner life divided. The princess is loath to give herself up because she knows, she will wither with each baby. I have images of silky hair flowing, insects caught in the honey exuding from it. I heard the sound of something under the earth. The image was, Mother Earth groaning with giving life; groaning because all of them will die and she will give birth again. There was a lot about dying. The palliative of the dying is the birthing. Something falls off with the ripening. It was so pretty, now disfigured. I had a feeling of disgust and contempt along with this arrogance that had been already mentioned. Dancing little people, they laugh because they live so long. They laugh in your face.

There is a rivalry about who is the best among the babies. There is a feeling of royalty in the life of the princess and then the underside of it, the life of the servants and the life of the rest of the household. Under her royal finery the servants are doing the dirty work. The princess escapes to the simple life of the kitchen until she comes of age. The life cycle is inevitable, there is no way out of it. But her finery is no compensation for what she endures to carry along the procession of heirs.

Also had a feeling of seduction, of promiscuity, without taking part in procreation. An animal like sensation of competition and jealousy. Infertility is a blessing.

And then I was in an orange room inside the flower.

The sensation was one of drawing down, something pulls you down, you are lured in, and down you go inside the flower; it’s orange in colour; like the house, the living space is hidden from the front.

Physical symptoms:

My head swivels from side to side. Coughing and a thick feeling in the back of the throat. I am aware of my throat and esophagus. I felt pressure on my head and my forehead.


I have the image of a woman with hunter boots and a hat, she is on a safari.

I got this feeling, it would be very nice to relax in a spa. Yesterday I had been bitten by mosquitoes and I have been scratching a lot. Today I have no itching at all. I find that strange.

Then I felt heavy, almost like intoxicated after wine. I am very sensually aroused. All my senses are on high alert, visual, touch, hearing, smell.

I heard music, very soothing harp music. I felt like being located in some fairyland, there were no worries. Even the food was served on a velvety cloth, silky velvety. There was a pleasant fruity aroma in the air.

In the end I had this song of the movie Junglebook in my mind, where this girl sings and she is enticing the boy and the bear Balu says: ”He is hooked now.” And when she drops the water, then the boy is running and he is like in this intoxicated state.


In the beginning it was strange, I heard screaming, a high pitched screaming. I felt really tight. Then I heard an enchanting, mystical music.

I got this feeling of wanting to hide, I did not want to be seen.

Then I had visions of really beautiful women, vicious and sexy, and I’ve seen all the different parts of a woman.

I got the feeling of having no control. I am beautiful but I am having no control, or even being controlled by the wind. “I can tell you everything but teach you nothing.”

Then there was a dinner party with a vase of orchids. Everybody was feeling drawn to the orchids, but when you walked away from the orchid, I had the feeling of the orchids judging you. Then I had the image of a geisha, elegant, amazingly beautiful, being so attractive but having a dark, a very dark side.

A lot of sexual stuff: trapping, a brothel, they lure you in, they get you.

Then it was like the energy is taking me deep, deep down into the earth, the physical and the energetic root going together. Then I felt numb, hopeless. We really don’t get it. I felt like a victim. I saw Jesus on a cross. I saw the world and the planet, the poverty and the oil spill. I get this mothering feeling and ask: Why are we bringing children into the world? I realize the spoiling of our physical being with each child we bring into the world, how our physicality is broken.

The sensation was dark, hopeless. Deception. I keep seeing the whores, the big boobs, the brothel, it’s all about luring in.

Physical symptoms:

Eyes itchy. I felt really cold.


Play – let’s play!

Music of the spheres. She sings, I am choking. I have a sharp pain at the right temple, piercing. Train whistles are blowing, metal tracks, metal on metal.

Then I hear:

“I am Calypso. Come with me.

I have secrets to share. Come, know me as I know you …

I know your desires – speak them to me. Your longings are my longings … Give them to me.”

“But I will get lost!”

“I will find you. I will always find you. For you are in me and I am in you …

Slower now: Touch me. Caress me.

Every cell within me trembles and vibrates with your touch, gentle and slow.

Stay with me now. Remove your rings! There is only us.

You and I in the place of secrets, desires and longings.

Rest now, sleep!”

The bowl itself becomes pulsating and hypnotic. (I manage to spill on myself with every scraping like inevitable fairy dust!)

I imagine passing on to my granddaughter the miracle of trituration, the secrets of life. Secrets that until now have rested in the dark and are now ready to enter the light. This is my thought and Calypso says to write it, she approves.

“I walk with your granddaughter. I choose who I walk with. Not all can hear my call. Young girls will hear my call.

They are turning to my call. It is a knowing that is mistaken for seduction …

Come, know yourself in me. I will reveal.”

At this time in the trituration I am in the spell, I take off my rings. It is very hard, they are in my heart, they mean a lot to me.

“Stay – with me only.

If you leave, I will die. Who will know me, if you are not here?

I will forever call to you but you will never find me. For you could only find yourself in me …

And now you are as lost to me.

I will find another.”

Sensation: Enthralled, hypnotized. It feels like a vertigo, a dizziness, spiralling down counter clockwise.

Gesture: a counter clockwise circling of the upper body when sitting, a gentle rocking, lulling to sleep, welcoming. It is rest, ease. As if saying: Come into me!



I have the sensation of spiralling downward infinitely. But I do not really want to go down, it’s gonna be very mucky and very bad at the bottom. I do not want to see what there is to see for me at the ultimate point of this downward spiral. I am thinking I should stop it but I can’t really stop it. So I try to stop it because I do not want to reach the bottom because it is not gonna be good. I am not gonna want to see it. Then I am trying to be distracted from what this was leading to. So I was thinking about eating bacon and eggs or a bacon and tomato sandwich and devouring it. I am devouring this food to feed the babies in my belly and then vomit.

There was a cold, restless, very uncomfortable feeling in my body. Together with that was an out-of-it, an intoxication feeling. I became aware of my mouth and my lips and my belly. And then there was this image of planting my feet near the water so I am nourished and I’m in the dirt delicately but firmly to get my needed nutrients.

Then I felt cramping like menstrual cramps and that’s odd because I no longer menstruate. I was bloated as if my period was coming.

And then there were insects and ladybugs and fireflies and the feeling of: Who is the best?

And then boredom.

I feel like being in sixth month pregnancy and bored and I don’t care anymore. A feeling of a baby that doesn’t want to be born, holds his breath, comes out red like burnt with salt, the way they used to abort babies in the second trimester, burnt them with salt, forced the baby out. Get rid of it, you’ll never be a mother now! Your uterus is turned inside out, broken. Parasites suck out the life and give back only their shit. I have this terrible heaviness of my head, I lay it on the table. And then there was this feeling, which is all centred around the uterus: besieged, forgotten, left to rot, worms taking my flesh to a quick end, my body becomes a skeleton consumed by my deliveries. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Leaving the earth now, taken by the cancer in my belly after the babies could no longer live there and the worms took over. The shit leaked into my vagina and uterus, porous, full of holes, tearing like parchment. I am loathing this female existence that ends in such a bitter destruction. I am undone by my cunt. I should have been sown up at birth and dedicated to a monastic life, kept away from the sins of the world. I let them enter into my body and I am ruined.


I feel myself sucked in, spiralling downward, reluctantly. I am floating in the dark. I am resisting. I am pushing out spikes with tiny little hooks and barbs to keep myself from being sucked in, from being washed away from the current. I try to keep control. With my teeth clenched firmly I try to keep a clear mind, I drink tea and coffee in order to keep my cool, in order not to be swept away. Wherever this current wants to take me, I do not want to go there.

I do not feel anything. It is empty here.

I feel very mental. I am cold, analytical, planning, untouchable. I am in control, I am focussed, I know what I want. Strong will power. I am not affected by anyone trying to lure me in. I am cold, calculating, harsh. I am bored. If someone would tell me about beauty, I would analyze the structure of this beauty, I would be able to describe it but not to feel it. I want to get it over with.

I am very alert and watchful. Is anybody gonna lure my woman? I am cold for any attraction, insensitive to any sensuality. Sharp: Fuck you! I am willing to cut, to hurt. The image that my partner would fall in love with somebody else, makes me ice cold. No feelings. I want to cut, to cut things apart, to cut beauty apart, to cut clean through a flower of an orchid. A clear clean cut, without much effort, with a precision and an elegance of a surgeon’s scalpel.

The sensation is the desire to stay in control. Desire to cut with an extremely sharp instrument, like a scalpel. Ice cold


Gesture: Holding a scalpel and cutting an orchid flower diagonally apart.


Cold, still silence. I wait for you, Calypso.

“I am here. They laugh, they scorn, they ridicule.

They do not know. I also suffer.

How is it that I come to know your longings, desires and secrets?

It is because I too suffer. I suffer with the longing to be at one.

Fools! You mistake my longing for oneness with fornication. That you can leave for the animals …

What I offer is far beyond that

but still you cannot hear.

You mistake siren’s sound for death.

It is in your mortal death that you can even come close to my knowing.

Go away from me!

I will sing a happy tune in your absence.

Choose suffering or choose death! I offer life…

Listen! I am yours and you are mine.

If you would know this, you would not disdain my lessons in your life.

Enter the darkness of desires, I will show you the way.

We are one now …

Deeper into the darkness.

Do not disdain the odour, the stink, the rot. It is all fertile – rot brings forth life and growth.

Do not turn away from the stench.

Now – put your nose to it …

I am here, do not be afraid, I know the stench. I have come to love the stench, it brings forth life.

I receive the stench. I transform the stench.

Smell it: It is the waste of humanity.

It is enough to stay with me. Rest!

Can you hear that? Listen!”

“What is it, Calypso?”

“It is the sound of weeping. Can you not recognize the weeping of your own children?”

“Yes, I hear it now. I cannot help them. I have never been able to help their sorrows.”

“Give them to me! Come to me and I can give comfort – solace from the sorrow.

Bring them to me! All the sadness, all the suffering …

I will hold them in my womb.

The scraping of the womb, the fetus dead.

Stench and death and rot carried in the womb – only Calypso can cure.”

My stomach feels bloated, gassy, my abdomen is swollen.

“I can abort the stench, expel the rot.

Leave me to do my work.

I am one with the woman, the men can live with their lust.

Men lust while their women suffer. It is not me who seduces but they who are seduced.

I care not for their attentions while the women suffer.

Can they not hear the weeping and wailing of those whom I love and care for as my own?

My seduction is nothing but lust turned inward – you seek what you cannot find.

Enter me and I will show you the folly of your ways

I will not be disregarded nor ignored

And betray me at your own peril. I will not suffer to be scorned.”

She sings her siren song in three part harmony.

I have a heaving sensation in my chest as if ready to explode in anger.

“Do you have a message for men?”

“They are easy – too easily led by beauty.

Bring them to me and I will show them what it is to be swallowed whole and then spit out – rejected for such foolishness. They will learn and they will know. Come to me and I will show you the suffering of women.”

“For women?”

“I am your friend. I am the great revealer of all that is now hidden to you. I am your liberator and your doorway to the mysteries of life, of birth and of death.

I am the great womb. Others have come before me but now my mysteries are being revealed.

Come to me.

Scrape all you want – in the womb, in the bowl …. you cannot scrape away who I am.

Now enter into and feel my velvet lining … Here is where life is safe: fed, clothed, watered.

What need do you have of these while you are with me and in me …

I give you everything and all: I feed you, I nourish you, I protect you.

Come stay with me a while and rest.

Soon enough there will be pain and suffering and struggle.

For now abide with me. I will soften the weeping and wailing – keep your ears in velvet softness.

Hush now …

Now I will touch you and caress you until every cell within you vibrates and pulses with the blood of my blood.”

My hand is cramping. My head and face is numb and tingling. It is a light-headed feeling with a bit of nausea.

The sensation is pulsating, floating, womb-like, carried on a wave and rocked gently.


I really had a feeling of intoxication. It was bizarre.

I had this image of a young woman in a white flowing dress, her hair was wavy, dancing in a lush green field. Then I had the feeling of her being swept away, being raped. “Just because I am beautiful does not mean, I want to be touched by you or even have you inside me.” Then I heard Calypso say to the man: “She is yours. You can have her.”


I have been very chilly, especially on my feet. I also have been very sleepy. It was a laborious task not to let my eyelids drop. I was totally devoid of energy. I am feeling mentally and physically worn down. I believe that my turn is over. I can’t get my thoughts together. I experience a drooping of energy. I just want to curl up and lie down. I want to feel cozy.

The sensation was a drooping and draining sensation, as if the body is depleted of fluids like a dehydration. Almost as if seminal fluids have been drained out and left me depleted, collapsed. And also a little ashamed with it.



There was a feeling of acceptance of seeing the juxtaposition of suffering with innocence. I saw butterflies entertaining children at the fence of Auschwitz. There was a scene of children enjoying the mangoes under a mango tree, and they did not know that their grandmother was dying of cancer and that her mom had found a new boyfriend and worked downtown in her small red dress. And the mango and the heat and the promise of grandma’s best fish supper is all there is. Daddy did not come here, he knows that uncle would chase him away. Little girls should not lift their skirts around daddies.

Living in a female body on this plane, one is bound to make sacrifices. Flesh gives way to flesh so it can continue. I think it otherwise or drug myself or opt out of the gene pool. In whispers the ancestors said: “Live as this Calypso flower so that they may be around as teachers for this experience. And we toil because we cannot accept the facts and think, we should not suffer.” Only thinking makes it so. The birds watch and sing whether their mating results in babies or not. Just keep on mating. Detach body from soul, if you must, to get it done. Covered with snow there is no sorrow in it; only waiting for death or another season. No need for seduction now because it is complete.

”But what if I am hungry for it?” – “Then it will be yours for pleasure. Pain and suffering can now be avoided. If you keep the body free of disease, which you cannot do entirely. Ha, got you!! You thought, you could just relax and have fun! Chlamydia, gonorrhoea, syphilis, herpes and all live in your playground! Wrap it up, babe! “

Then there was a more peaceful feeling. The knees of the fetus being drawn up comfortably in the womb. Bliss walking in the delivery room, and then they begin their torture with their poor technology for birthing. But I can watch it now. Part of earning my way to freedom. One birth at a time, I paid all back! If this one is hard, maybe I get bonus marks and ‘E’ for effort. And I keep on and on.

The sensation was this peace amid violence and an acceptance seeing the suffering resigned to it.

Play when you can! Play safe, or it will bite you. But then it all goes faster and it is over sooner, the cycle of life and death.


I felt more at peace.


I had a shuddering sensation throughout my body. Hearing: everything is too loud, even the softest sounds. There is too much noise, every sound is amplified, especially soft noises. There is trembling of my head, as if a slight shaking saying ‘no’. It is a palsy kind of shake and trembling like in an elderly, aged, withered woman. Am reminded of Katherine Hepburn in her last years.

My eyelids are sleepy and droopy. I want to lie in the sun and cool, the perfect temperature for me would be the feet in the dark and cool and the warm light on my face. I am yawning. My right ear got sore. My body was separating from my will, it felt like a disassociation.

I had heat in my face as if flushed from working in the sun.

Then I had an image of a woman stepping out of herself in a new form, like being reborn and free. She is birthing herself by shedding the old skin, the old self.

My head hurts.

Then I am counting down: 3×3=9. Trimester x trimester. C1, C2, C3. One third, one third, one third. Each trituration level a gestation of 9. 9 is a magical number.

During the whole fourth round I was in a deep meditative state. I felt disembodied. I felt reluctant and it was hard to come back into my body. It was as if I had no body, I was here and not here. Coming out of that I felt indifferent to everyone else as persons or humans. No emotions, no thoughts. Etherically I was somewhere else, even though all my senses were intact. What we are doing is without meaning in this state.

Very bad cramping in my abdomen, it was very uncomfortable. I had to move my lower back. Hurry up and get done! Thank God, the round is over! It is a drudge, a grind, right up there with cleaning toilets. It takes so much effort!

This will be a relief to get this last round over with. It is like boring sex, the same way every time. Or like sexual abuse: Just get it over with and leave me alone! Very dispassionate: The honeymoon is over.


I have images of seduction, being lured in with the promise of sex. Promiscuity comes up and sexual abuse. It is hopeless here, I cannot see any chance of getting out of this again.

Calypso is a homewrecker.


I am so bored. All the thrill, the enchantment is gone. I look down on my body, there is not the least desire. This state of mental rationality is more dead than any fall into the downward spiral of seduction and desire, however destructive or perverse it might be. It is still life, it is alive! This boredom here makes me loath, makes me gag. No mistake, no wrong turn, no sin can be as blasphemic as this state of unfeeling coldness that I am in.

Every whore is more reverent to life than I am now. I need a kick, a sick, morbid thrill, that would give the illusion of feeling, of being passionate, of being alive again! Maybe fucking a tied up woman would turn me on, maybe sex with two women, maybe rape. Just something that gets me out of my cold cold prison, something that is worth living or dying for, something less cold than numbers and money. A body alive, a body full of lust, full of pain!

I gotta get out of this office building made of glass, concrete and steel. I gotta get out of here! What am I gonna do? Laying in the sun, getting myself warmed up? It is too boring. A whore would be more exciting.

I lost something. I lost this whirling eddy of passion for myself and for life. I try to find it in lust and morbid excitement. I will only get the syphilis from it.

Something in my soul talks of love. I can’t feel it. Something in my soul talks of a gentle touch, my finger caressing her soft body. It does not excite me. Soft colours do not reach me. It’s gotta be red in black, blood and pain coming out of a hot dark body, fire burning through the night of my soul, dividing the boring grey into the colours of Hades, in red and black. I will kill myself, if I would not start feeling again. I would kill myself if there wouldn’t be whores, women with the devil in their bodies, a putrid, poisonous mixture of lust, disgust, blood and hate. It is pure pain. The immaculate beauty of pain and suffering, screaming and stinking towards heaven.

Is it this, that you gave us, God?

Is it that???

I hear the nightshade laughter, a loud heinous laughter. I hear screaming, pain screaming. I drown in it, dragged down in a spiral, down, down, endlessly. If there is hell, that’s it. If there is Satan, that’s him, and that’s me. If there is Hades, then give me these flowers of evil, give me this blood red fruit of the underworld, I will devour it, full of disgust about myself. I see my body bursting in blood and pus and decay.

The sensation is spiralling down and disgust.

Morning Sharing Round of the Second Day of the Trituration



Roland was amongst several other people in a green field, it was like a hill. He was the only one I could really recognize. Fireflies were putting on a show for us. It was amazing because they were synchronized but there was a sense of violence with it. It was strange. The way they were interacting towards each other, they were smashing and then they would go off and it was very peaceful and then they would come back and smash. I was on a balcony, wanting to watch the show but not really. I didn’t join Roland and the audience, I stayed on the balcony and watched from a distance.


I had a dream. Someone was holding my dog over the toilet, so she would pee in the toilet. It was a woman holding her. She had grasped her by the neck and closed off her windpipe. So she was choking. I was trying to figure out, how was I supposed to fix this? Should I stick my hand down her throat? She was choking. Her windpipe had been smashed. I was trying to figure out what to do. Then I woke up. It was quite disturbing. It was a woman and I don’t know who it was. It was baffling: Why would you have your hands around her neck anyway? I was puzzled and then I was panicked because I could feel the seconds going by that she was not breathing. She was dying. The person doing it didn’t care. I was in a panic.

Besides this disturbing dream, I was thinking a lot about being attractive. I spent most of my life turning away attractions. My husband had felt it a kind of a curse that he had an attractive wife. The other thought was fear of losing my attractiveness because I put this weight on. What would it be like if I didn’t stop attractions, attractions from the outside?



I was thinking about the source. This story came up in my mind: There was a very attractive young woman in Goa. So young men going to Goa would find her an easy target. She would welcome it, they would go to bed with her and in the next morning she had disappeared and all they would find of her was the words on the glass, on the mirror: Welcome to the world of AIDS. She obviously has got the AIDS from someone, now she is giving it to someone else. What came up for me was this whole deception thing of sexuality, beauty and seduction but in a destructive way. Everyone is exploiting just one another. Orchids are a wild beauty. The message one could get could almost be: Be careful and cautious of physical beauty. I think the flower tells us, there is no need to reject. In fact it is the physical beauty that leads to physical union which in turn leads to higher things, even spiritual union. So beauty has a place. Last night we heard this song of Eric Clapton “Tears in Heaven” and it made us feel vulnerable, even cry a little. It was about softening of the self. I think it is all about feeling vulnerable.

Then I visualized men and women together, having something like a new dawn. Darkness to light, lust to trust.

To be with children and to be with pets can soften us and help us to deal with this harsh reality of the world. In respecting the innocence of children and pets, hopefully this damage, which we have been responsible for in some way, could be repaired.

The orchid also showed me how colour and spice can play an important part in our lives. Colour is the spice of life. When our food is bland, then we are missing of something.

The male and female energy in most of the flowers is present in one. It is important to develop both energies in ourselves.

I also noticed that a lot of us swayed when doing the trituration. I felt it was part of the magic of the source. It was so nice rather than to be rigid.

Aromas came up. Aromas are so essential for life.


I had a lot of impressions of white flowing silk curtains blowing in the breeze. I felt the light of meditation coming through the ego and lower human desire. I felt crisp mountain air filling my lungs. I felt like standing on this white precipice and it was somewhat precarious. There were white birds and an ice kingdom of clarity. Pain cannot reach here. As soon as I had that thought, there was this bright drop of blood that stood in contrast to this whiteness. And it stained it a little, the whiteness allowed it.

Then there was a darker feeling of the sins of the fathers, wanting their daughters to be virgins, cannot fathom their womanhood without fear of their own lust. Then this whiteness and this alabaster bone and trusting against it. A whale bone exposed on the shore. And this whiteness deceiving that purity would be sustainable while in human form. This purity is unreasonable, unattainable. Water beyond frozen. Coldness that stops time. Then there was this feeling of angelic, sexless purity. These angels are around and above us with no regard for us except their own contract. If we ask them, they are bound to help us. Powerful to execute when asked but above the stink of human flesh. And then there was this feeling of purity in the form of a human soul lowering itself without becoming earth-bound. To me this was the feeling of the Buddha to ascend beyond suffering, beyond human existence because it can’t be had with ordinary human existence. Have to cross the precipice to the earthly realm of suffering, birth and death.

Opium-like whiteness, undefinable, unassailable.

It feels resolved but not joyful. There is still this feeling of a kind of hopelessness.


Slow awakening, radiance, well rested. The glow of pregnancy and new life.

“I bring you joy, if only you would plumb my depths and see beyond idolatry. I am as vulnerable to you as the egg in the womb looking for a place to be nurtured and loved.

To know that I am loved in the darkest and most secretive places of longing – this is the child of joy. I give this to you.

I will be censored no longer. I have my voice, my joy. I can speak, sing, dance, drum my longing and desire. Come be with me – let us create together.

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord …. The Universe sings her song – we need only listen and care for the longings to be one with all that is, the dark and the light.”

Listening and swaying, I have no longer vertigo, but I am gently swaying.

It is enough to grind. There is in that, its own kind of joy.

I am glad that I am a girl, a woman. (That brings tears of joy to me, apparently because I longed to hear my father say that to me). Soft and yet so strong within the soft edges: like velvet.

“Together, you and me my love, better for knowing each other, for trust. My hand is always yours to hold at day’s end. I am your hand maid and your help, you lift me up.

Joy in the mundane, pleasure in the simple. Balance in the bowl: The left hand supports the right, the right the left. Separately yet together. I am stronger in this world for being soft. There is only letting go – I will land softly.

The pus is drained, we wait for healing and repair. Love the discharge, the flow, the blood, the wounds, the sores! I am a balm for all that leaves the body unwanted and unloved.

It is good for women to love women, to hold hands, to embrace. Listen within and know between lust and love. I reveal that to all – man or woman.

Whether I speak through you or through another, it is the same. It is all and only love giving voice to itself in the world.

I will speak, I will sing love, joy and healing into this world of sorrow and suffering. I create from that which is destroyed. I cannot be stopped for I am Life itself in Calypso.”

And then I have an image: It is a woman on a high cliff and precipice, the waves crushing below. She is singing into the gusting winds clear and beautiful. She is born on wind, released into the ether, her secrets discovered and all are left in awe …

Triads. The end of our visit and the beginning of a new week. Life overlapping life, overlapping good-byes and hellos, the cycle of life, birth and death.


I immediately went back to the image of me in the castle basement, in the cellar. It was not so scary this time, it was what it was, there was an acceptance there. I walked through a hallway and there was light shining through a door. So I walked through that light and I was outside and it was bright. A strong contrast of the dark and the light. As I walked further, I was by a river side, birch trees and white horses. I was sitting under the trees, the ground underneath was cool and damp. The senses were really strong, the smells. I felt this deep earthly energy of being one with the planet. An image of the earth with that spiralling light rotating through it. I felt as if I was transported with the sounds, the inner workings of the planet.

I had images of women in my life who either I disappointed or they disappointed me. There was that overwhelming understanding of disappointment being from expectations that we put on each other or expectations we put on ourselves.

I heard a noise downstairs and I had this image of someone’s ex-husband coming up the stairs and shooting us. But it didn’t feel violent, the orchid energy being much greater than the energy that our dead bodies created. It was a strange sensation. I had this overall feeling that this energy supports us, supports all.

When in “Avatar” they stick their tails into the trees to hear what the ancestors are saying, for me that is what the trituration does. We are plugging in into the source. That is the wisdom of the trituration, that is how we access the energy.

“We are the world, we are the children” was in my head. Then I had an image of the energy of the orchid with its open mouth, it was spiralling around in this empty space and the energy was coming out of it into my face. It was like spitting at me. It is not like in the Avatar, it is not the tail that connects it. The orchid energy connects to our throat, through our mouth. And then this duality thing, it is a beautiful image, it is pretty but in all pretty there is the mouth and this duality.

Then I had another image from the “Avatar” movie about the bed of flowers, when the avatar was dying and how they connected him to the source again and it gave life and it restored life. Then I remembered this painting I found in the internet of Calypso orchid, staring of this beautiful goddess. She had snakes coming out of her hair and a cat sitting on her head very proud and it was this exchange of energy between the two of them that felt very powerful. And I felt complete in this connection, in this oneness.


Tears come to my eyes. I want to sing, to sing it out loud, the pain, the despair, the intensity of it all. I want to give it all to that song, to sing it so loud that it touches the heavens, that it reaches the most distant parts and aspects of my soul, calling them home to me. There is despair about my own cruelty, about my own suffering, about my arrogance, the disrespect, about all women I hurt in my life. Yes, I know, I was a gift for them also. Still, it always seems to include pain.

It is quiet here, I feel calm inside. Strange. I look around and everything feels okay. Where is the magical attraction, where is the abuse, the disease, the rot, the stench, the disgust? I feel it all in my body. These teeth that want to bite in a woman’s flesh, this heart trembling in innocent desire like the leaves of an aspen tree in a gentle breeze, the rot and stench in my bowels, this ice cold monster of my analytical mind, my fascination for the sharpest knife, the cleanest cut. The first incision in the virgin skin of a black woman, the yellow fat opening, the blood coming out – a flash back in my times as a surgeon. Black, yellow and red, life in unsurpassed intensity. I feel my passion for life, my insatiable hunger, the lust, the desire to touch it all, to feel it all, to experience it all, to breathe in the colours, the intensity, the power of the song, almost violent. I am intoxicated from life and it is here that I find my freedom, the freedom of a dancer in ecstasy, losing myself in the spiral. It is not spiralling down anymore but not spiralling up either. It is as if I am spiralling upwards but taking the whole world with me, all of the world that I was able to experience, to live through, to breathe in, all the colours I touched, all the songs that I sang. But strange – no matter how painful they used to be, now they are all in harmony, all of them sounding at the same time. If I would not have bled, if I would not have rotted, then I would not be able to sing this song, to hear this harmony, to dance this dance now. The ugliest and the most beautiful become one. In C1 the pastel colours were luring, I felt the attraction as I was outside. Now I am in the midst of an orchestra, of a symphony of colours, harmonies, smells and movements. It is me. I am it all. It is my greatest joy.

I have forgotten about myself now. The Calypso’s enticing promise, here it is true. What started out as an intoxication, turned into bliss. We went through rot and decay, through rape and abuse, we went through hell, in order to find …., to find what? Heaven? No, it is not heaven, it is heaven and hell, it is completion, perfection, it is it all. It is me. I found myself. This truly is heaven. But not somewhere up there, it is in and out, inside and outside of myself. There is no limit, no boundary anymore. It is all, and it is all beauty. I dance in ecstatic sensuality, whirling, spiralling around myself. I do not need someone to seduce me, nor do I need to abuse someone to get a kick. This here is the spiralling vortex of myself, nobody else needed. Yet one specific other is, not needed but oh so welcome. Not because I need her but because it is even higher bliss to have two whirlwinds of perfection dancing in and out of each other, potentiating the joy.

Words leave me here. I only can be it, breathe it. This is a realm of boundless intimacy where words do not reach, that words cannot express.

This remedy is perfect. It holds the utmost pain and the highest bliss.

It is complete and it is sacred.

Notes around the trituration:

There was a lot of talk and desire for ice cream.

One of the men had epistaxis. This is fairly common in men during a trituration of substances that can cause menorrhagia in women. The three female participants did not show any symptoms referring to this as two of them were crones and one found out during the trituration that she was pregnant.

Comments to the Calypso Trituration

Usually in a trituration C1 and C2 hold the deepest suffering, the deepest pathology, this is being transformed and after the healing has taken place, bliss and joy are being experienced, mostly on the level of C4/C5. This is different in drugs: Here participants experience bliss and joy already in the low vibrational level of C1, which later turns into pain. Bliss in C1 or C2 is always an illusion, not a healing experience.

In the Calypso trituration almost all participants expressed their state in C1 and C2 as “drugged, intoxicated”. So there is an aspect of drug in this energy.

A word to the dreams, which were very interesting:

Dog-dream: The dog symbolises loyalty, protection of home and family, following rules and orders. In the Calypso energy, this has to go. As one participant put it, the Calypso is a home wrecker. It deals with sin, seduction, abuse, stepping over boundaries of conventions, following forbidden desires. These two energies are definitely inimical, so it is not surprising that the woman in the dream is trying to kill the dog in a sly, almost hidden way.

Firefly-dream: Fireflies were mentioned several times independently during the trituration and even showed up in this dream. There is an energetic affinity. Fireflies have an aspect of jack-o-lantern, meaning that their light seems to seduce someone in a wrong direction. Usually they attract mating partners with it. However there are species in which female fireflies attract with their light males not to copulate but to eat them. The unsuspecting suitor ends up as prey. This definitely correlates with the luring in, trapping and abusing of the orchids. In both cases there is a deceitful promise of sex.

Something that showed up strongly in the evening of the first day of the trituration, was the missing dad. Three friends, two of them part of the trituration, shared their pain about their dads, which had either left the family, had died early or were emotionally not available. They listened with tears to the Eric Clapton songs “My Father’s Eyes” and “Tears in Heaven”. One of the women mentioned in C4 with tears in her eyes, how much she was longing to hear from her father, that he was glad to have a daughter. A missing father, a father who does not support the mother or does not respect mother and daughter, could be an important aspect for the Calypso pathology to arise. (Similar to Theobroma/Chocolate and sometimes Sepia).

In the end we were discussing the miasm of the remedy. Predominantly it seems to be syphilitic. Especially in C3 we had experienced the ice cold, analytical way of thinking which so characteristic of this miasm.

If the “new” miasms as sometimes postulated in modern homeopathy are included into the consideration, Calypso might also cover the AIDS-miasm.

Traditional Use and Mythology

“Haida girls ate the raw corms to enhance their bustliness” (Pojar/MacKinnon: Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coat). Even in the traditional use of the Native people it was known, that Calypso can increase a girl’s attractiveness.

Calypso got its Latin and English name from the lovely nymph Calypso in Greek mythology. She lured Ulysses to forsake his wife and held him captive on her island for seven years. According to the ancient stories they had children together. Compare in our trituration Calypso saying: “Stay with me now! Remove your rings!” (Paticipant F3 in C1).


The most astonishing fact is that most of what we experienced energetically during the trituration is a clear mirror of the biology of this wonderful orchid.

Many orchids portray with their flowers in shape, colour, texture and scent female insects. In that way they attract males of a specific insect species who try to mate with it, which of course does not work, at least not for the poor insect. However when flying away frustrated, it carries some of the pollen of the orchid. And if by any chance the lovesick critter gets tricked by another orchid and follows its promise of sex, then the pollination takes place. In other flowers there is usually an exchange, mostly the insect is rewarded for its service with nectar or they eat some of the pollen. In orchids the insects do not get anything, they usually go empty. Some wonderful examples of this you can view on you-tube, for example “The Wild Orchids of Israel: Seduction of the Long-Horned Bee” from Telecine by CinePost or “Wild Orchid Wasp Mimic” by David Attenborough, BBC. These video clips do not show specifically Calypso but other species of orchids. However they are very worth while watching, you definitely will get the gist of what is going on.

Calypso specifically is being pollinated by bumblebee queens. Newly emerged bumblebee queens mistake the orchid for a mating partner, however they quickly learn to avoid them.

Calypso bulbosa is the only species of the genus Calypso. It is distributed circumpolar, it grows in the Northern countries all over N-America, Europe and Asia. Like many other orchids it is dependent not only on specific insects for pollination but also on certain fungi in the soil. The fungus receives carbohydrates from the plant and the plant water and minerals from the fungus. This is crucial during germination. The seeds of orchids do not have any nutritive tissue to feed the germinating seedling, they depend completely on the presence of fungi to provide them with carbohydrates during that critical time.

(In the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC from September 2009 there is a interesting article focussing on the reproductive strategies of orchids, in which you can read about the most amazing ways orchids use to get pollinated.)


When we as humans go through experiences of being deceived, seduced, abused, then we suffer inevitably. More so when a woman has to undergo abortion, curettage. In extremis we are talking about sexual child abuse, incest, rape. Consequences of unlucky sexual relationships might be all kinds of venereal diseases. All these themes showed up during the trituration.

When we experienced a lack of nurturing (orchid seeds have no energy, no nutrients for the seedling), then we stay needy, we have nothing to give later on. Relationships are being experienced as mutual feeding off each other, mother-child-relationships even as a kind of parasitism (fungi and orchid are feeding off each other).

Orchids are living these themes in perfect peace and innocence. This is why they can give us peace with our own traumatic life experiences. Once we have peace with it, once we can forgive ourselves and our partners in this game, our wounds can heal.

May the spirit of the orchid and the remedy Calypso bring peace to many wounded souls.