Fleshy, leather-like. Grows on old hollow tree trunks. Strongly elastic, almost organ like tough. Immediately when I smell the mushroom, I get a sting in the right side of my head and a pressing pain around my ear and it slowly progresses up to the front to the upper edge of my cheekbone. Also, it goes backwards, and it stops at the lower edge of my skull. The smell is fresh, a bit sour, not the stale smell you would expect. I stretch it with my fingers and the lower side tears apart, and immediately I get the feeling I wounded the mushroom. And that is bad, oh my god, the upper layer stays intact and keeps keeping the lower parts together even when I stretch it further. I see a blue square with a white cube in it and a brown bin and after that more rectangles…. I go away from the big room, normally I can withdraw myself easily but not now. My throat begins to tingle unpleasantly. I have to cough. I is really terrible to tear it apart! I tear apart somebody’s flesh! I can tear the upper side from the lower side and suddenly it fails, it’s like the upper part could not hold it anymore! It tried so hard to keep it together! To keep things together, it believed that that was very important, to keep things together. To keep the group together. Now the upper layer becomes even softer and again I’m shocked when I tear it, it again feels like an injury. When I tear the lower side, it is cracking/snapping but that didn’t matter, it was already fallen apart. When the group already is torn apart because somebody left than all is lost. And I am the one who injures, I am souring. I can’t believe that I just did that!
The primary principle of the small group, we all need each other, we can’t miss anybody in the chain. If you behave differently you put too much danger for the whole tribe. I do it when I am just a moment out of contact, with myself, with the group, the tribe, the entirety. I want to be an individual but from a point of being stuck, like there is a lump in my throat which looks like a Mammut tooth. I have to do something otherwise a will languish and walk strange like handicap people would do on their wooden sticks, wobbling, waddling, with only a cloth around my waist, India, Middle East, hot, sand and stones. And in the meanwhile, I am falling apart in weak pieces, there is no cohesion anymore. I look at it, at a body that is rapid depressing with pieces where blood doesn’t stream anymore. No juices anymore that can connect the solid parts. Here and there something is snapping apart still, my left side wakens first, my right side longer has power, but the pain is a little bit horrible. The group lives because of a certain value, idea and to keep the group going you have to live from that idea. But I have a drive to break out, my mind is not even involved in it. I don’t feel or think it, I just have to do it. This hard chunk in me, the mammoth tooth, makes me do it. It has to be solved, it has to be drained, providing with blood and maybe then I can go on living with it. It probably will not go away but at least I can go on. I will find another group of deserters when I leave, no doubt about that. Nobody told me, but everybody knows that there are these men, women, living in bare places, extinct places. The sourness of the smell pulls the moist out of me, just not what I need, I need moisture, then, I can keep standing better and then I don’t need that dry lifeless stick. I already have difficulty sitting, my right foot is a becoming a heavy lump, also so dry, the dryness creeps up to my lower leg and becomes stony hard, not heavy, lighter, because life pulls out and life itself gives an pulling energy towards the earth that can feel as heavy. Death is without substance and is much lighter.
When my pen is without ink, I just grab a pen I see, normally I wouldn’t do that, I would check and ask, but it doesn’t matter because I do it for the sake of the group and then you can take anything. My left cheekbone gives pressure, all the pressure in my face is on the inside of the bones. It pushes up or outward, expanding. But it goes very slow this expanding, only because we are with more. We expand not in ideas. If you are lucky you live on the outer side of the group, then at least you see things that are different because the group is not there, and that what is different is so nice, even when it’s a half dead dessert. Just because at least it is something else!
In the middle of the group it is safe but very limited and that is heavy. If I would have to live without change my life-juices stop running and I dry up.
What I would like to achieve is that there would be a city with juicy green life from the farmland into town and back, what a life that would give. No more drought. The drought is unbearable, I am thirsty, I sweat from drought and heat, but it immediately disappears. That group that isolates itself and forms a new group doesn’t have an easy life. There is nothing there in this dessert and you have to make something out of nothing with your ideas. New life, a stream that provides you with what you need, trade, exchange, what travels and goes back and forth between parts that don’t move, like blood.
To make the old move is tough. It is insecure in the way of that you don’t know whether it will work out well, but I am not insecure about what I want and have to do. It is more a question of when, when is the right opportunity, occasion, the right moment. The moment to choose. (then I suddenly realized Judas-ear, the tension of that moment in Gethsemane must have been immense!)

Markus had a client he treated with Judas Ohr. He was a farmer who gave up farming. His father wanted him to go on. In the past he had infection of the cartilage behind the ear that did well on the Aurums. He had Hernia, was in severe pain, exhaustion, muscle aches, then he emaciated very much, and we thought he had cancer. He had very high protein in his blood, had a rare severe auto immune disease. So severe he thought that it might be an actinide. After this mushroom he ameliorated a lot. His wife had brain cancer, his son in law had testicle cancer. He was responsible for bringing the cows all at one place to keep the dairy from the small farmers going.
Paleness, all his strength was gone. He also had neuralgia, had a hernia in his neck.