The Tree of Certainties


It grows in each of us. On the subtle plane, like our chakras, it is the sum of our most inveterate beliefs. We are what it is. Nothing of it, branches, leaves, trunk, twig, bark, sapwood, roots, fruits, seeds, the nests it shelters, the insects that inhabit it, nothing can be removed without a infirmity that is added to us.

Planted in the heart of yourself, it radiates. It lights you. You would be nothing without the tree. Its whole light comes from you, it illuminates your thoughts, your discoveries, the sum of your knowledge. He can do without you, you cannot do without him. He is your memory, your conscience, your past. You are there in his wood, he has picked up everything.

And two minutes ago, you didn’t know it existed.


When you’re little, it’s just a shrub. Fragile, uncertain, it doesn’t grow in a jiffy as we discover the world and life. It becomes a shrub. It is more secure, you can already rely on it. In adolescence, you do nothing without consulting it. But by dint of feeding on everything, the shrub is uncertain. Contradictory. Absurd. Inaudible.

Largely disconnected from reality, to which the teenager that we are does not understand anything. Inevitably. He is only his shrub and the shrub is stupid. It is then that he begins to sort out what is true. Sort more or less efficient according to the intelligence of its wearer, a teenager a little con. The shrub still grows. Each year, a new layer of infrangible beliefs thickens its trunk, between bark and sapwood.



We are alive as long as he breathes. As long as he grows we grow. When an attack cuts off a branch, healing is increasingly long and difficult. No one can amputate part of what he has always believed without feeling the wound and lack cruelly. The older the branch, the greater and longer the suffering.

If someone were to saw your tree of certainties at the base, you would hate it because it strips you of yourself. And you can die. As long as your tree swells with certainties, you feel safe. This absurd and disproportionate universe loses its threatening aspect. Over the years, you’ve reduced and compartmentalized it to make it less dizzy. You insist on this arrangement and never admit that your certainties are false and that your tree is a bad guide.



The tree is judged by its fruits. You have forgotten this wisdom. You have become accustomed to eating rotten fruits. He who meddles in unraveling your skein of false beliefs becomes your mortal enemy. He wants your life, this executioner. He will torture you without giving you the final blow. We kill the horses, not the fools. But that you ignore. You have not yet understood the extent of your naivety. You are full of tranquilizers. Legal or not, the ego goes.

You have nothing to do with it. You think you are a victim. The infamous murderer of your certainties deprives you of the comfort of believing hard. You need the opposite. But you keep banishing unwanted doubt and misfortune. You get lost, you stagger, you-tube, you walk in circles so you are round, full of alcohol and sacred certainties. You go anywhere without knowing where you’re going. What does it matter? You have nowhere to go.

You can go where you want, you don’t want anything anymore. Getting better is not a goal, it’s a vain formula. Heal first. Forget the collages of falsehoods, mistakes, con traps, false pretenses, illusions, debilitating beliefs that made you as stupid as a doorknob. And still, I’ve known some doorknobs less stupid than you.




Booze. Get high. Get low, because that’s what we all do when we don’t understand anything. No drunkard understands better after getting wasted. The only thing that makes you smart is to give up certainties. They’re all wrong. But that’s out of the question. You don’t want to hear about it. Just thinking about it makes you feel nauseous. Unless it’s from your drunkenness?

You’ve been blasted. You’ve been taken your shelter, your apology, your roof. Your you. Your reassuring prison is destroyed. How are you going to continue? There’s nothing to go on. Everything that counted lies on the ground, crushed. The beautiful tree of pink dreams burned. Its ashes have nothing to tell you. The whole landscape has changed. Nothing looks like anything. Everything has jumped.

Under your raw bark, the flesh has disappeared. Without the tree, you pitch up, unstable, inevitable. Who will know? Who will? Who wants to restore the strength of your limbs, the sun of your belly and the momentum of your heart? Appease your resentment? Portray yourself as a victor? Counting down your blocker? Unblocking your meter?



Look no more, it’s me. It’s all my fault. I’m the iron breaker that cut your tree. The hallucinate that uprooted you. Gravedigger of certainties, I pity no one. My howling chainsaw knows no respite.

Tear in the eye, mourn. Weapon in hand, sharp chain, greased, alive and ready to bite. I’m posting another article. It empties you a little more.

I move the lines, I make the signs speak, I am the vile unworthy. Every evidence is a lethal venom for your frozen mind. I kill with pleasure. Suffering is my way, I bring it with me, pain makes you mute. No reason.

What did you understand of yourself? Your tree that I cut down was vile and too low. You cannot blame me despite your despair. I stole your soul and I violated your flame.

Why do you want to read me so insistently? Why stick to the comfort breaker? Why seek a balm to your already dead heart? What you believed in is no longer.


Pack Up Your Sorrows


No use in cryin’, talking to a stranger Namin’ the sorrows you’ve seen
Too many bad times, too many sad times  Nobody knows what you mean

If somehow you could pack up your sorrows And give them all to me
I would loose them, I know how to use them, So give them all to me.
(Mimi & Richard Fariña)




The name I have used so far is for all my readers. The one I now employ is addressed to you alone, my friend Philippe, trainee emeritus. Of course, others can read it, this site is public, secular, universal and free. No advertising imposed, no data theft.



Patience! The end of one world will soon be the beginning of the next. You will be forgotten. You will live standing. The dead tree is your remorse, you will not go away. But life is better than faith. Change certainties, victorious altitude, new attitude. Take a little altitude.

What about this famous tree? Where did I get this pile of certainties, backbone of the ego? As usual, it comes from a waking dream. I transcribed it in automatic writing.

That evening, I waited for Philippe not without worry. Will he be able to get out of his depression? As soon as he arrived, I was reassured.

“Philip came like a rising sun. He immediately lit up my tight heart that lost all worry. I think it will be all right. He is able, everything is in his hands. I see his dazzling future. His success on the way from within. Its beauty, strength, finesse and performance will now shine bright. Head to knees, butt to stomach,” as they say around here.”

The rule is that we do not talk on the first night about the real motive that brings us together. I often see things: I wait until the next day to talk about it. That evening, I had a hard time not rejoicing with him for his perfect form. Philippe is cheerful, bright, so confident and easy going!

He had to take advantage of the few hours of driving to make this spectacular transformation. Precious sense of timing. In the photos he had sent me, it was impossible to perceive this solar aura, with powerful radiation.  As if he had put a screen to blind his inner light…

I no longer worry, I already know that everything will be fine. Tomorrow Philippe will be imbued with the high vibrations of my paradise. Harmony of vibration rates. We will do a good job.



And on Thursday, as planned, allowed Philippe to transform the test. Real stroke of genius, the transformation allowed the trainee to secure a place above the melee. After shaking his certainties, he realized that they could let go. His tree might break. So he changed the nature of his tree. The certainties evaporated but the tree still holds. 

By a sleight of hand that I saw only after the fact, Philippe changed his tree into a tree of awakening. He now has a convenient ladder to climb at his own pace the branches, walking after walking. With the sense of timing, Philippe will easily reach the second degree of awakening.



Not the first degree: Philippe is already there. I felt 60 cm from his skull the flow of his fontanelle. But he cannot endorse this awakening. His humility prevents him from doing so. It is trust, it is the assurance he needed to gain. The conquest of serenity scored two more points, and not the least. Bravo my Philippe!

Having succeeded in these two challenges, in the most original way, bodes well for the future. Do not fear an ego surge. You are the antipodes of pride. I am sure that you will know how to keep your simplicity, mark of great warriors. Those who are not dazzled by the light know that it will not blind others.

On the tree of which you knew nothing, you now have a stable and solid platform, and from there, a staircase formed by the branches, a real ladder for awakening! This magnificent performance is a decisive step for you. You have ceased to underestimate yourself. The look I have put on you has made yours turn. You love yourself the way I love you, a victory for unconditional love.

This love does not die, sang Glenmor the bard. Infinite love is the absolute weapon that allows you to work for life and against what hinders it, such as charity and thoughtfulness, for example. Poisons for the soul.

Life resembles love, without love it resembles nothing. Indifference kills more than weapons, its battlefield is in our hearts.




Here is a brief overview of an individual internship in my paradise of Erquy. The intern arrives at my home on Tuesday at 5pm. This schedule is precise, not by mania, but to follow the principles of geobiology, feng shui and sacred science. It is an initiation, not an internship as there are so many.

Tuesday and Friday are necessary days. Wednesday and Thursday are essential days. Most of the energy work focuses on these two days.

Wednesday, Mercury Hermes day, under the sign of communication.

Thursday, Jupiter Zeus day, belly chakra, self-affirmation. Perfect days, auspicious omens.

These two days, the trainee wakes up and falls asleep in the reki room, his reserved area. We do not talk about anything serious on Tuesday evening, March day the god of war, it is better to chat without consequence.



Yet nothing prevents the intern from starting the job. He comes for it. As he was building, I was watching him do it. And the vision came to me. I picked it up in automatic writing.

“On the evening of arrival, a terrace was built around the tree of certainties. The terrace is solid, well built, and I worked to strengthen it. Solidly camped on this terrace, he will be able to make the most of the two rekis of Erquy.”

This terrace is at the top of yourself. On your top. You just made a custom shelter for yourself. It’s solid. Tough enough to last a lifetime.

When it’s too much, when fear takes you, when people are heavy to carry, evil lurks, your morale drops, so climb. When doubt is strong in front of the narrow door, climb to the top of you. Resource yourself as long as it takes. Rest: it is always sunny up there. You dominate the clouds of your false certainty, sheltered from the tree, well in your hiding place.

Seen from above, evil dies out. You are no longer a puppet. The blue of the sky rubs off on your mornings. I like. Can we imagine a more subtle ploy? Yeah, I like it.

You will not be the last to enjoy this hiding place. Everyone can make one at the top of his tree. And there, on her terrace, everyone will see the sun rise. You see, I gave your idea, she will make little ones. Thank you. It’s up to us to enjoy it.




Souvenirs, souvenirs… This is to move the illustrated Latinists

ante: avant 
erga: donc
prae: en comparaison
propter: à cause
enim: en effet
nota: note

quid: de quoi
per: pour
contra: par contre
apud: chez

atque: et aussi

memorandum: To remember





“I am the voice that cries in the desert”
St John the Baptist