How would my life change if I allowed the street artist, the person talking to themselves, the young musician, the praying beggar, to stop me in my tracks?
How would my life change If I struck a conversation with the woman from lands afar, wearing a hijab, wearing aged wrinkles, pulling her trolley along the aisle?
How would my life change if, while penning these lines, listening closely within, I would miss the announcement of a platform change for my train?
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
This poem was composed on 2nd September 2026, capturing the unfolding experience and actually almost missing the platform change for my train. I love those moments when life itself becomes poetry and I can listen with a thousand ears!
Today is the day. It starts with a yummy breakfast bowl from the Crêperie. Although the night was short and chilly, and my air mattress is just as thin as the sleeping bag, I’m feeling refreshed. There’s nothing like the moment when you crawl out of your tent and greet a sunny morning with a feeling of victory!
I also recall a beautiful conversation with Jille, the tent neighbour who has lent me his hammer on the first day here. It confirms to me that I am not alone in being so moved – sometimes even to tears – by the music, lyrics and themes of Ayreon that I cannot possibly put the right words to it. Jille feels the same. I believe many people feel the same, each in their own way. Same same, but different!
The afternoon concert is slated to start at 2pm, and there are queues, so it makes total sense that Lady V, Iwona, Yunin and I head into downtown Tilburg before noon. We stroll through the city streets, grab some food here and there, and join the queue. We talk a lot about music, and Lady V and Iwona give me several recommendations for progressive rock & metal bands.
The queue gets larger behind us and progresses rather slowly towards the “013” venue because doors have not yet opened. Besides our geeky conversations, the long wait is sweetened by the fact that Damian Wilson walks along the entire queue, greets literally every single fan, and happily lets them take lots of pictures and selfies with him. One might ask where the man takes so much energy for doing this, but I suspect he actually receives energy from it. Anyway, for some obscure reason I forsake the opportunity to get a picture with him, which I immediately regret afterwards. Lady V and her family make a wiser choice, and at least I can be a good photographer.
Ayreon City is real!
Eventually we get into the venue, which has alredy filled up quite a bit, and find a good spot somewhere slightly right from the central axis and a bit before the sound & light isle. I enjoy the privilege of being reasonably tall (slightly above 180cm, or approx. 6″ for the imperial ones), and most Dutch folk is even taller, whereas Lady V and her family are a bit shorter. So we come up with the idea: What if a crowd would spontaneously self-organize such that shorter people are standing front and center, with a steadily increasing gradient towards the sides and back? Then everyone would get a decent view of the stage. One downside would be that friends or couples of different size might not be standing near each other. But one could at least approximate the organising pattern, and people would likely be happier on average!
And then the show begins …
In the beginning there is flashing light. The projection of a starship deck appears, zeroes and ones, a floating brain, and then: “Dream Sequencer System Online.” The year is 2084. The holographic avatar of Irene Jansen welcomes all Ayreonauts to an amazing flight in time. The crowd cheers. Red lights. A red planet. Wudstik begins with a powerful performance of “My House on Mars“, accompanied by backing vocals of Irene and Marcela. About 2’30” into the song I get chills: “I’ll never smell the ocean breeze / I’ll never climb the highest trees / I’ll never feel the burning sun / I’ll never meet my chosen one” – for the first time I feel emotional about this song, hearing themes of loss, loneliness and abandonment. Are we really prepared for spaceflight?
The atmosphere changes swiftly as Maggy Luyten takes us back to the dark ages in the catchy and upbeat “Sail Away to Avalon“, with Ben Mathot on the violin, Jurriaan Westerveld on the cello and Jeroen Goossens on the flute. I love Maggy’s stage presence and leadership qualities! The next song, “Green and Cream” performed by Tommy Karevik, while not among my favourites, adds to the diversity of the setlist. I confess that the song with its complex rhythmic structure and intense chorus parts slowly but steadily grows on me.
Next up is Sir(!) Arjen Anthony Lucassen himself, all dressed in red, with a new rendition of his old classic “Days of the Knights“. The tune is again catchy and upbeat, featuring an amazing duet between Marcela and Irene. Whew! And then without further ado, my beloved Anneke van Giersbergen enters the stage for the heart-wrenching “Childhood” … and how could even the most space-battle-hardened Ayreonauts not shed tears over such a beautiful tune and such emotional lyrics?
After this we get immersed in yet another change of atmosphere as Marcela and Irene take the center stage for a beautifully intense rendition of “Dragon on the Sea“. You can tell how much they are enjoying themselves, and this emotion is absolutely contagious. I love that many of the songs on the setlist are among ones I haven’t listened to very often. We change again to a soft ballad, to flute and acoustic guitar, and to a stunningly beautiful Heather Findlay for “Sign“, another song from The Human Equation. Of course more instruments join the party as Timo Somers on the e-guitar has a brief duet with Ben Mathot on the violin.
The calm before the show.
And then I am twice struck with awe: screams, sirens, and a characteristic cello immediately accompanied by a flute and joined by a violin mark the beginning of one of my absolute favourites, “Sea of Machines“, sung by none other than Damian Wilson … eargasm alert! And not only that – for the epic chorus we get Tommy Karevik with Irene and Marcela. Heather Findlay’s compassionate interlude puts icing on the cake. How on Earth can they make it sound even better than on the album The Source?
But wait, there’s more! Dino Jelusick comes on stage and rocks “The Year of ’41“, a song from the Star One side-project. Once again the powerful backing duo of Irene and Marcela lifts the song to epic celestial spheres. And if you think it doesn’t get any better than this, enter Mike Mills joining the grande finale! After this we need a breather, right? And whom haven’t we seen in a while? You are damn right – the inimitable Wudstik does it again, becoming “The First Man on Earth“.
Thus replenished and prepared, we get the rare treat of a “The Lighthouse/The Argument 2/The Parting” medley from the Theory of Everything album, featuring duets by Damian and Tommy as well as Mike and Anneke. The whole setlist appears to be skilfully arranged into one vast opera that spans eons, galaxies, species, genres. So it should come as no surprise that Sir Arjen The Tall enters the stage again for “Carried by the Wind” from the first Ayreon album “The Final Experiment”.
And that, my friends, concludes the first half of the setlist. The second half will be treated in my blogpost for the next day. I will just say at this point that after all these wonderful songs, the Dream Sequencer avatar of Irene informs us that the second half of our journey will be all about “timeless classics”. I’m biting my tongue hard to not spill the next song already, which will be another one of my favourites!
Non-alcoholic IPA with good taste and great name.
Fast forward: after the concert, Lady V plus family and I part ways, and I embark on the quest for food. My choice turns out to be suboptimal: the staff drops my order more than once, it takes ages until I get my food, and said food is “for the hollow tooth” as we’d say in German. The upside of this place is shelter from the heavy rain. I chat a bit with the one lady from the staff who actually gets me the food. When I converse with her about Ayreon and Arjen, she tells me she thought him a wizard. Maybe she is right? :-)
I join the queue for the second concert of that day, this time on my own. As rain sets in again, the soaked Ayreonauts are treated to a spontaneous acoustic street concert by musicians from the Ayreon Project – letting us taste once again the beautiful camaraderie among fans. And though I think I’m late, I actually get a spot much closer to the stage, slightly to the left, which grants me a very good view of the stage and the musicians. While waiting for the show to begin, I check TicketSwap again. Given all the available tickets, I decide to “fuck it” and buy a ticket for the final Sunday show as well. The amazing concert this evening confirms my choice – the live experience just doesn’t get old, it rather gets better like well-aging whiskey!
Plan Nine rocks!
Apropos whiskey: later that night, awaiting an amazing show by Robert Soeterboek and his band Plan Nine, l discover the non-alcoholic Wanderlust IPA and have a conversation with a man who looks like 60 at most, but reveals to me that he is 80 years old (!) and here with his son. I love these family constellations! Plan Nine rocks the stage from midnight until past 2am and just keeps getting better. Eventually I return to the campsite and crawl into my tent to get some kinda sleep. It kinda works.
In the morning, while T sleeps in, Wolfgang prepares breakfast for us and then drives me to the train station. We say farewell and I mount one train after another … to Mönchengladbach, crossing the border, changing trains again, until I eventually walk out from Tilburg train station.
Q: How many trains arrive at Tilburg? A: Yes.
And lo! this ain’t Tilburg any longer, for here I guide my steps through Ayreon City. The banners that herald good tidings of this 30th anniversary concert weekend stand proud and tall, their fabric waving in the breeze.
My heart pounds faster as I carry the heavy backpack towards the campsite in the middle of the city. Yet even as I approach my destination, my heart falls strangely tranquil and tears come to my eyes. For in bright daylight a beautiful song fills the air, coming from that very campsite; and my ears recognize the voice of Marcela Bovio, and her voice fills my heart with joyful ache. The Ayreon song “Valley of the Queens” is followed by “Here To Stay”. And so it comes to pass that upon entering the campsite I can listen fully to that final song, and I still remember many moons later how hauntingly beautiful Marcela’s voice sounds.
If I had a hammer …
The magic fades – time to get pragmatic. How do I put up that new tent again? If only I had a hammer! Good news: my tent-neighbour Jille has a hammer. He keeps the goddamn tool to himself kindly lends me the tool and watches me with non-judgmental amusement. 30 minutes later, voilà – the tent is up!
I return the hammer and head into the city for the screening of the “01011001 – Live beneath the waves” concert at the Pathé cinema. I give my spare ticket to a fellow Ayreonaut, and we arrive in the cinema hall in the midst of a fun quiz hosted by none other than the maestro himself, Sir Arjen Anthony Lucassen and his chief co-conspirator Joost van den Broek. And then – lights out.
Live Beneath The Waves
The maestro himself is on the bottom right.
For the next 134 minutes I have tears streaming over my cheeks, and a hard time sitting still in my chair like everyone else around me (seriously, guys, did none of you want to jump up from your seats and headbang the shit outta yourselves? And why didn’t I just start?) because the concert recording feels just outright epic. “01011001” is my favorite Ayreon album. I’ve had tickets for one of the rare live shows in 2023 and yet couldn’t go … one of the bigger regrets of my life. This is my first time seeing the full recording, a glorious live perfomance of the whole album with a fabulous array of guest singers ranging from Hansi Kürsch to Anneke van Giersbergen, Damian Wilsom, Simone Simons, Michael Mills, Daniel Gildenlöw, John Jaycee Cuijpers, Maggy Luyten, Arjen himself, and many more. I don’t know if that makes sense to any of you, but to me this album offers a particularly haunting glimpse into the heart of the universe “out there” as much as “in here”, and a prophetic vision of our – and humanity’s – very own fate. I feel so expanded and small, connected and isolated all at once.
Oh, my dearest Anneke singing these beautiful zeroes and ones in the middle part of “Age of Shadows“! Oh, that violin and flute interlude of “Comatose“, and Damian Wilson’s final burst of emotions! Oh, how Maggy Luyten rocks the chorus of “Liquid Eternity“, and Jeroen Goossens plays that chilling flute solo, and Ben Mathot the heartbreaking violin, before it’s Maggy Luyten and Brittney Slayes slaying it again. My beloved “Beneath the Waves“, like an opera in itself, even better than on the album. Riding on the migrator trail with “Ride the Comet“, featuring extra guitar solo duels between Marcel Coenen and Timo Somers. Oh, what joy to hear and see Simone Simons of Epica with Arjen in “Web of Lies“, and later Arjen with Liselotte Hegt in “The Truth Is In Here“, bringing the vast dimensions of the cosmic storyline down to Earth!
I would like to prescribe a good dose of “The Fifth Extinction“, eventually followed by “The Sixth Extinction“, to every leader on our planet. I know it won’t change much, but let us indulge in such unreasonable hope for a while, shall we?
They sure knew how to build cathedrals!
Happily exhausted, I traverse the city again, enter a beautiful cathetral along the way, return to the campsite and hang around with fellow Ayreonaut campers who make music under a large tent with sofas and tables. This is the evening of Ayreon’s premiere show at the 013 venue, my ticket is for the following Saturday afternoon show. On TicketSwap there are (unfortunately, yet also fortunately) way too many spare tickets available, selling at dumping prices, so I acquire one of them for the Saturday evening show as well.
The most amazing Ayreon (cover) project: “Ayreon Project”
Later that night I grab some strange food in a crowded bar, where two friendly locals start a conversation with me about music and traveling. Later I enjoy the (final?) live performance of the best Ayreon cover band, Ayreon Project. They play with such joy, passion, and love for detail, for almost two hours straight! And the Ayreon songs are anything but easy to arrange and perform.
Again back at the campsite around the fire bowl, I make new friends with Lady V, her mom Iwona and her sister Yunin. How amazing to travel to epic concerts with one’s metal mom! Eventually we retreat to our respective tents where that inescapable blessing called sleep is upon us. One last round of nighttime dreams before the Ayreon concerts …
Pre(r)amble (a.k.a. You Can Totally Skip This PartTM)
After an initial rush of enthusiasm and inspiration (“Now I’ll finally write again, yay!”) I often experience a long phase of recoil and doubt. Thus my passion is delayed for an arduous while.
Fortunately the time always comes – and may it come ever more swiftly! – when ink and quill return to my eager hands, and my longing heart rejoices as (letter upon patient letter, keystroke upon loving keystroke) words ecstatically pour forth from the realms of imagination, form slient whispers upon longing lips, and eventually – finally! – flow lavishly, like skaldic mead of poetry, from these dancing fingertips.
So come take a seat around the fire, let’s hear our stories!
Musical Trains (a.k.a. The Actual Story I Want To Share With YouTM)
Thursday, 11th September 2025 is a good day for a long train ride. After way too little sleep I somehow manage to pack (don’t ask, it is always a miracle), leave home around 5:30am, and finally settle into my seat on the first train from Graz to Linz. First step: done!
Then I proceed like 35 years ago (holy shit, how the time flies!) – I look out of the window and watch the beautiful lanscape of Styria, the green hills and little villages, the Alpine mountain rocks, all being pulled across my field of view by unseen forces. (Yes, yes, I know, it’s all relative.) But one thing is different: today I listen to music along the way, which resembles about 30 years ago. Back then I was a teenager, playing mixtapes from my friend R on my Sony walkman – to him I owe gratitude for introducing me to a variety of metal bands and genres: Amorphis, Blind Guardian, Jag Panzer, Manowar, Rhapsody, Therion and many others. He also tried to get me into Motörhead and the (newer) Onkelz, but I kinda refused, ha.
The other main music influences came from my uncle (The Kinks, Jesus Messerschmitt), my cousin M (Skid Row), and especially my brother who, during our teen years, introduced me to bands like The Sisters of Mercy, The Mission, The Cult, Paradise Lost, Helloween, Ozzy Osbourne and Black Sabbath. Since this journey that I’m writing about here takes place not too long after Ozzy’s passing, and as I have recently paid homage the Ozzman by playing his entire discography up and down (and man, did he make some amazing songs!), this time I choose to listen to some Black Sabbath albums. I thought I had never payed much attention to Tony Iommi and his ever-fluctuating peers, and today most of their songs seem new to me (except for well-known classics like “War Pigs” and “Paranoid”). Until …
… I listen to the “Cross Purposes” album and immediately remember that I know every. single. song. inside and out. Do you ever get that feeling when you revisit a memory from the distant past that you had all but forgotten, whether music or something else … and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, it all comes back in one fell swoop?
As a teenager I have spent many an evening just listening to albums with headphones and dreaming along. I must have listened to “Cross Purposes” (critically unacclaimed, but who cares) a good few times. And now “Cross of Thorns” gives me chills. I remember the slow-paced doomy riffs and psychedelic songlines of “Virtual Death”. I get all romantic over “Dying for Love”. I rock to the groovy depths of “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle”. Oh man! What is it about music that gets to me like that? What about it evokes such emotions, memories, and all those unnameable, unspeakable, magical, mystical feelings?
When you take a life and steal its shadow All that’s left is humanity
On that note … Fuck war. Or maybe: fuck nonconsensually(!) enforcing war upon people who want to live in peace. Fuck sending others into the hell of war – you’re not even standing in the effin’ frontline yourselves, you cowards (yet you call yourselves ‘leaders’, what a joke!). I mean seriously? After all these centuries and millennia of senseless bloodshed, we can do better than that, can’t we?
And still I know that (with all the shadow work and integration and whatnot) peace is the way.
Such kinds of thoughts can tear my heart asunder and comfort it at the same time. How can I explain? I’m afraid there is no explanation. Maybe you know the feeling. Why do I want to find people who know the feeling? Sigh. Even if I have found them, I still want to find them. Anyway, we’re gonna get back to this rabbit hole. Sorry not sorry for the digression!
Namesakes
A star shines upon the hour of this journey (how do you say that in Quenya: elen síla lúmenn’ journeyelvo? ;-)) because both ICEs are almost on time: one from Linz to Nürnberg (Nuremberg), one from Nürnberg to Köln (Cologne) where a local train (the only delayed one – someone’s gotta hold up the reputation of Deutsche Bahn!) brings me close to my namesake’s home.
Wolfgang picks me up with his car. Until that moment we have only ever seen each other on screen, and I realize I have pictured him to be a bit taller. I apologize for my slightly metalesque outfit (with the good old black Lee Denver bootcut jeans, well-worn after 22 years) and he assures me there is no reason for such. :-)
Wolfgang and I first met in 2021 in the late Terry Patten’s online community “A New Republic of the Heart”, where we were auspiciously assigned to become buddies for 2-3 months. After that period we decided to remain buddies, became friends, and kept on meeting online almost every week since.
Beautiful lights are beautiful.
Today, more than four years later, we meet “live”, and I get to stay for a night in the beautiful home that he and his betrothed (meanwhile his beloved spouse) have created. Their hospitality is amazing and reminds me of the beauty of hosting friends. I’m also impressed by the artful play of colours that is only topped by the absolutely stunning lighting throughout the apartment. We talk for a while, then go out for yummy dinner at a nearby Asian place. I love hearing the story of how Wolfgang and his beloved T met. We keep talking back home and conclude the day with a brief meditation together. Not much later I sleep like a baby – my best sleep during this journey.
In the morning, while T sleeps in, Wolfgang prepares breakfast for us and then drives me to the train station. But wait – that’s another story!
Scrambling my things together (large backpack, tent, two small bags from General Semantics conferences – let’s better not go down that rabbit hole just yet, but … soon!), I asked the train staff about my breakfast. It had been promised for 6:00am, which had given rise to me rising early. Now the clock showed 7:35, and the arrival in Linz for my change of trains was scheduled for 7:43. The train staff apologized (bless his heart!) and said he’d bring me a to-go package.
I chatted briefly with the woman in the cabin above me. Her long dark hair framed her beautiful facial features in a slightly mystical appearance, and I wondered how our lives would change if I were to stay on the train until Vienna and converse more with her. What if I were to share my feelings about Ayreon and experiences of the journey with her? And what would she tell me about the her life, her happiness and grief, her contentment and longing, the challenges confronted and treasures found along her own journey?
We’ll never know.
I received my breakfast package and left the train just in time. Hot coffee spilled through the lid and over my hand. I didn’t mind. I stretched my back. Sleeping in the tent had felt surprisingly better despite the rain and chilling winds. While the mini cabin on the train had given me an equally uneasy sleep, there is another key difference. In the modernized context of polished surfaces and touch panels, where the climatised air blows into your face as though it were mid-summer, you simply won’t be replenished by the smell of wet grass and soil. You cannot crawl out of your tent on all fours, stretch and yawn into the rising morning sun, let your eyes glance across the landscape, smile understandingly at fellow tents and tent-dwellers, feel the strange joy of knowing “we’re in this together!”, and make any funny noises of your choosing that half curse, half praise the crazy adventure.
(You also cannot celebrate the art of making and tasting coffee with your new-found Mexican friends … But more on that later.)
Nonetheless, let me give the ÖBB (Austrian railway company) a huge shout-out for maintaining, expanding and modernizing large parts of the night-train network in Europe. I love night-trains. Even if I “regret” having chosen them the next morning, I am deeply grateful for the service. I love all trains! And my heart aches for all the train networks being run down upon privatization. Please everyone, keep the train networks in good shape, make people and the planet happy. Train travel means slow travel. To me it means expanding horizons. Looking out the window, seeing the landscape pass by, reflecting on life. There is no train ride without at least one small epiphany or beautiful thought that drops a tear from each eye. Typically there are several such moments, and sometimes the human-to-human encounters are priceless too. I might as well be talking with the lovely young lady across the table instead of typing this!
On that note, slipping back to the present – we’re currently delaying for a few minutes in Hinterstoder. Yes, I am in Austria again, for Hinterstoder is a name that you wouldn’t easily find anywhere abroad!
And we’re moving again. The journey from Linz to Graz takes me across the beautiful mountains, winding an iron-clad path betwixt forests and rocks, mist and clouds, streamlets gradually mingling waters and swelling in size to become majestic rivers which are destined to traverse distant realms and to eventually pour themselves wholeheartedly into the vast and unfathomable sea.
Right now I am listening for the first time ever to the classic Queensrÿche album “Operation: Mindcrime”. What on Earth took me so long? Thanks to Lady V and also to Jonatan, Andre and Lilia for suggesting it to me. The music is amazing! The singer reminds me a bit of the early works of Crimson Glory, some of which I had listened to on my train rides at the beginning of this journey. When it has some “substance” to it, Music can have a tremendous impact on me. Which reminds me of the purpose and “official” thematic focus of this blog series … Ayreon. I say “official” because you never know where the journey wants to take you. In the end it isn’t really about Ayreon. Ayreon, like Ithaca, is giving us the lovely journey.
This blog series will be an experiment – hopefully not “The Final Experiment”, but the first of many. I intend to write more in a raw and unpremeditated style, without editing much. I might do some minor polishing for typos and mistakes, add links and context and a few pictures. If you like it, feel free to comment! Given that I practically never promote this blog, perhaps not many humans will ever read our entries, but trust me: I surely will. :-)
We’re leaving Selzthal now. Queensrÿche sings “I Don’t Believe In Love” (“… I never have, I never will …“). I totally love that catchy track and – nope, I totally do believe in love. :-) This album is really great. I’ll listen again and follow the lyrics and story more intently. And in the coming days we’ll get started with Day 1 (Thursday, 11th September 2025) and follow day-by-day up to the present. I can’t wait to write this. It will be risky because I will lay bare some very dearly and deeply treasured emotions before you. Yet the price of not sharing is greater, and the life-spark deep within clearly says that I cannot afford that. Wherever it truly comes from, and whatever its true nature, I’ll trust and follow. For, pray tell me: what else is there to do?
It feels hard to convey to you what the music, the storylines, and the live shows of Ayreon truly mean to me. So I shall attempt to do just that: express that which seemingly cannot be fully expressed. I am going to weave diary-style memories, existential reflections, deeply heartfelt emotions, some contemplative insights … you know, the usual suspects. :-)
For context: I am currently on a night train, in the morning, with red eyes from the inconvenient sleeping arrangement of a small almost-Japanese-style sleeper capsule, conveniently listening to the 34-minute track “First Light” by the progressive rock band Shadow Gallery (to be fair and accurate, the song contains 5 minutes of utter silence starting around the 23′ mark, which yet makes it no less epic and beautiful). The accumulated lack of sleep – and the fact that the train personnel must have forgotten about bringing me breakfast with at least some semblance of coffee – doesn’t make for a particularly good arrangement to scratch my memories together into coherent articulations. But then, what better time could there be?
Let’s let this one be raw and unpolished, and discover the always-already-inherent beauty in it.
My thoughts trail off to a group of three Mexicans whom I have first met just two days ago – hard to believe it hasn’t been longer! – on the Ayreon campsite in Tilburg, who turned out to be my campsite tent neighbours. And to the other campsite tent neighbour from the Netherlands, who had gifted me with more than just lending me his hammer to drive my tent hooks into the soil. And to my other campsite almost-neighbours, a Polish-German family of a mother and two daughters who had enjoyed this musical trip to Tilburg a.k.a. “Ayreon City” together. And back to the coffee and breakfast that never comes, and my approaching stop in Linz. Oh my goodness, I need to pack up!
My roommate Mikkel lets me in on the ‘sacred secret’ purpose of his journey to Berlin: he just had one of his thighs adorned by a resident tattoo artist. The result looks impressive. A very specific purpose, I think. How specific is my purpose? I am here for the Emerge Gathering, for reconnection with J and W, and for a trip to Hamburg to co-create Mindful Researchers things with Annika. And there is more. There is something I want to lean into, something I want to give myself to, and it is more specific now than it was in June. It has to do with energies and transitions, with developing a certain sensitivity to different worlds and a growing awareness of their inherent inseparability. I know that my journey here supports this revelation. I know it is purposeful. Yet can I be more specific than that?
Trust the bridge across the river Spree.
I check out from the hostel and stow my luggage in an empty storage room. On a long morning walk across the river Spree I am taking in first fresh glimpses of this vibrant metropolis called Berlin. The Coffee Lab café offers three tiny tables inside and some larger tables and benches outside. I am taking a seat inside near the glass front, inhale the scent of freshly ground and brewed coffee, and start journaling while observing the comings and goings around me.
Sometimes I fantasize that I might be a 'bringer of revenue': I sat down with a salmon bagel and a double cappuccino, and a legion of customers has since trickled in: two young blonde Berliners engaging in lively conversation to my left; a short-haired brunette in a rose-brown-ish coat that reminds me of the Dude's morning robe, now sitting outside and sipping coffee while reading a tome about women's rights; a tall blonde-haired dude with an epic beard; a dark-skinned lady in a red jacket with several bright-skinned folks, now standing outside with their liquid takeaway loot; a guy with a grey cap checking things on his phone. (...)
A wasp comes greeting me at the table in this tiny coffee shop. (...) what I truly care about is connection, not the particular form of connection. I want to hold this affection lightly, without need to give it any label or story. Love flows on its own terms, spontaneously, "a braided and networked process that is fundamentally unpredictable, embedded in situatedness / interrelationality / mutuality / non-explicit reciprocity / adaptivity ..." to paraphrase qualities that Roshi Joan Halifax elucidated vis-à-vis compassion; it is fundamentally enactive. I anticipate that the 'enactive view' is the most profound cognitive update in my life since my spiritual heart-awakening. The unfolding and enfolding of meaning holds the frame, like a 'non-view', to give context to all views. Knowing everything to be enactive, how can one hold views as if they were absolutes?
– Journal entry on Thursday, 7th October 2021
I pause and think back to an image from Dune showing several moons. How would life on Earth be affected if two moons were circling around it, even at different revolution frequencies, causing quite distinct tidal patterns? Yet surely such more complex cycles would also have stabilizing effects. Cycles lead to iteration, to renewal, to establishing patterns of life, to the flourishing of life. While the cappuccino is beginning to affect me, I make a highly unsuccessful attempt to weave a thousand thought-threads into one tapestry.
Life finds ways to accommodate to circumstances. On a planet with a different gravitational field, different composition of elements, different sets of moons and suns, it finds its own ways. Cyclical processes support its flourishing: tides, day-night cycles, seasons, eccentricities of orbit around the central star. Too much variation too quickly can be detrimental. But on our planet, the 24h-cycle seems rapid too. It helps to have several cyclic processes at once, another 'braided and networked process', on different scales of time and space and amplitude. One of our biggest mistakes as humans has been our ignorance and denial of these cycles. Any system that has fundamentally grown based on regenerativity needs supporting conditions to maintain such regenerativity. A logged forest cannot easily regenerate. Extracting too much, converting it all into different forms – coal and oil and gas into energy, wood into ships and houses and paper – is by design a one-way street. The ideology of capitalism demands such short-term gains though; it has no value-system that accommodates for the long term, nor for the genuine care for the flourishing and diversity of life.
I've read an article by George Monbiot this morning, and I agree with his assessment: you cannot tame and temper capitalism – it seeks profit. It is its own 'paperclip maximizer'. Regulations only incentivize the exploitation of loopholes, and they invoke an army of libertarians. No, it is the value system itself! Streets and cars can never solve the 'problem of transportation'; a 'green economy', a 'green deal', a 'sustainable form of capitalism' can never solve the problem of perverse incentives. It is a band-aid, perhaps necessary to stop the blood loss, yet it can only be a precursor to a deeper healing transformation. And we must take care to not have it shield off our view, lest it conceals the heart of the matter.
– Journal entry on Thursday, 7th October 2021
I chat with the barista and learn that this gentle young man intends to leave this family-owned café and enroll in a military or police academy. Then, heading back to the hostel to retrieve my luggage, walking along the river and crossing underneath a bridge, I catch a first glimpse of the living conditions of the homeless in this city. This is someone’s home. No shelter from cold winds, nor from unwanted attention. A seed of realization is planted in my mind that will take its own time to trickle in and merge with further experience.
Trust the kids.
The luggage weighs heavily on my shoulders. I pause at a bench facing the river. Gazing at the cars, trucks and humans passing by at a distance, a dawning insight has me pick up the journal again. I’m seeing something, an intuition that both traverses and transcends time, yet the verbal expression on paper is one of intellectual grasping, spiraling in on an elusive moment of redemption.
Sitting and resting in half-shade across the Mühlendamm-Schleuse, pondering the undeniable aesthetics of Teilhardian visions for the evolution of mankind. I've seen the 'flaw' in it with a felt-sense of certainty, not too long ago. Was that conditioned by the cognitive frame I've held, or inhabited, at the time? How could I claim for it to reflect absolute truth? And now I'm seeing the aesthetic value, akin to that of a symphony, of exquisite art, of profound scientific discovery, of spaceflight, of genetic engineering. Engineering. Engine. Mechanics. It exploits the mechanistic lawfulness of our universe, our cosmos. It exploits. Lawfulness. Law. Regularity. Plausible undeniability. Who can deny this? Who can stand in its way? Yet begging the question of emergent strategy: what is life? What gives meaning? Are we meant to send life to other planets? Are we meant to let them unfold on their own terms? Our quest for survival and flourishing does not 'prove' justification of our attempts to colonize. "Because we can" is not enough. Did we consider Wolf? Did we consider Life? Did we consider Spirit? Do we consider Source?
– Journal entry on Thursday, 7th October 2021
Trust love.
Ever so slightly missing the mark, I let go of pen and paper. The walk leads past Checkpoint Charlie and Berlin Anhalter Bahnhof where I am briefly sensing the intergenerational and cross-cultural import of their associated histories, the ever-morphing impact that keeps on flowing through our shared presence. I cross Gleisdreieckpark and watch humans of all ages play, skate, walk, realizing that parks too shape our histories. With the physical discomfort of heavy weight on my shoulders, beginning dehydration, and a certain cautionary closed-mindedness, I am still feeling somewhat alienated in this city. A couple more hours and this too will pass. And are there not little signs of love everywhere? How long will it take me to notice?
Irina welcomes me into her cozy Airbnb apartment which is located in the heart of a red-light district, as I will only realize later, being of slow wits in select regards. Irina is curious about the Emerge Gathering and I make a feeble attempt to explain what it is about – changemakers and visionaries of all kinds coming together to tackle our sensemaking / meaning crisis with a kind of metamodern-spiritual philosophy and practice? We share our professional interests and personal journeys, she tells me about Azerbaijan, I mention CERN and the Mindful Researchers. Our conversation quickly deepens and zones in on themes of spirituality. Given our immediate resonance and Irina’s strong curiosity, I find joy in sharing my spiritual journey with her; yet a stirring in my belly literally prevents me from speaking about some of the more recent experiences. Does the serpent protect herself? Even so, we are at zero risk for running short of topics. Only my rising hunger commands us to pause.
Trust polar bear.
I walk towards Nollendorfplatz, admire the graffiti artworks, and pull out my phone to search for hints on nearby restaurants. The almighty algorithms propose Bethe Ethiopia as the #1 choice, literally just around the corner. Ethiopia, of all possibilities! I follow the universal nudge and am generously rewarded with the most delicious food: Yetsom Beyaynetu and thyme tea, followed by Brilli Teji (homemade honey-wine) and a yummy dessert made of sesame, almonds and dates. The amiable chef of this lovely family restaurant, a bellied man with a hearty smile and sparkling eyes, teaches me some Amharic and enthusiastically proposes that I’m a natural when it comes to holding the Brilli Teji flask with my fingers and thumb. Of course, the body remembers! I smile as a crow instantly confirms my strange thought: sometimes you do a thing for the first time and yet remember that you’ve always known it.
Back at the apartment, still slightly affected by the Brilli Teji, I partake in a co-creative Zoom-meeting-dance practice with Annika, Mary, and Marieke, in which we sense into co-creating a Mindful Researchers event. Then I don my favorite black Anneke van Giersbergen T-shirt, and Irina and I have a short farewell conversation as I am getting ready to meet J while she too is preparing to leave. Before we part ways, I show her Mark Matousek’s book “Writing to Awaken” that I’ve lately been working with.
Trust this Ethiopian dessert.
J meets me at the Metropol and we hang out for a couple of hours at the nearby Hafen bar. With J being a director and writer, it is only natural that we land on the theme of storytelling. I tell him about my newly re-awakened joy of writing and my intention to blog about this journey. J shares some trade secrets about dramaturgy, proposing that in a good story the characters come first and the plot evolves from their inner and outer conflicts. What is the ‘research question’ that drives the story and the protagonist? What is an appropriate type of character to walk in the protagonist’s shoes? What is their perceived ‘want’? What is their actual deeper ‘need’? What’s up with the tension or polarity between these two, the ‘want’ and the ‘need’? I feel intrigued and challenged. Have I not sufficiently thought this through? Should I?
We carry on talking about life, love, relationships, heartbreak, healing, music, our coming-of-age years, psychedelic experiences, and recent elections in Graz. During his bio break I ‘secretly’ give in to my new drug of choice: Anneke van Giersbergen’s mesmerizing “Jest Oldu” cover version of Karsu’s cover version of Mustafa Sandal’s ballad. (The grande finale always reminds me of Anneke’s incredible vocal performance with Damian Wilson in Maiden UniteD‘s acoustic cover version of “To Tame A Land” at the Wacken Open Air 2011 – just imagine this song mixed with this vocal energy – and I should mention that said Maiden uniteD concert in Wacken ended with this epic cover of “The Evil That Men Do”, melting the iron hearts of even the most moshpit-hardened and wall-of-death-approved metalheads; and I don’t know what gives me greater chills: their duet or the lyrics?)
In the end I ask J whether ‘coming out’ is a multi-layered process, and he confirms this, saying that in his experience there are three possible stages or areas for coming out: an ‘inner’ (personal) realization, an ‘outer’ (public) declaration, and an ‘inter’ (relational) enaction. I sense that this has something to do with my journey and writing here, too.
Trust the … uhm … king!
On the way back to the apartment, I experience my life’s greatest density ever of being invited to sexy times via fifty shades of “Hast Du Lust?” – I automatically rush past all offers as if speed mattered, soon wondering whether there is also a way for me to relate more fully to these wonderful beings, hearts and souls in passing. After all, one can affirm “no” and still embrace this one human family in this one web of life. Can I learn this? What else is there to learn?
(I wrote this in August 2013 and kept it as an unpublished draft, feeling too shy to be “seen”. Here goes, with tiny edits!)
I like to think of some experiences as life-changing. They all are, in fact. Some of them stand out, and you know that they had a specific large impact on your life, because you were there, you felt the change, perhaps a seed of change, and they align you with your old and new dreams.
I know, for instance, that I wouldn’t be writing this if I hadn’t met Sara at OHM2013. Sara does spoken word poetry (and teaching, and more). Imagine a camp-like tent village full of hackers, scientists, engineers, whistleblowers, policy makers, artists, agents, geeks and nerds, parents and kids. Imagine that place hosting a conference with talks and workshops, DIY tents, retro zones, and imagine that somewhere in between a young woman with sparkling eyes passes the flame of inspiration on and on among these human beings, with poetry and passion.
As this travel blog is coming to a close, I feel compelled to sum up what has been unfolding in this 14-day journey, transcribed into these postings over the course of almost three months. A lot has happened along this extended journey. I am clearly no longer the same person I was when it started, and yet I still am that one. What has shifted? What has evolved? What has remained?
For sure, I’ve been writing much more personal and ‘authentic’ here than ever before in a quasi-public space. My commitment to telling the truth has become increasingly sincere. Yet how much of this can be rightfully labeled a high-fidelity account, and how much is still a constructed narrative, an unintentional performance?
But the story isn’t over yet. I still need to return to my Ithaca, the place I call ‘home’.
I wake up once more in neighbouring lands, in the comfortable guest room of the Schröck family home in Bavaria. As the morning unfolds, I make the acquaintance of three Schröck generations: Grandma Schröck invites me to have breakfast with her and Grandpa Schröck, and soon their daughter and granddaughter join us. Who would have guessed that their granddaughter is in training to become a police officer? On that note, I remember the encounter with the highway patrol on Day 2 of this journey. Cycles are closing.
Strengthened by this delightful breakfast intermezzo, I pack up and drive off into the mystical morning mist. Grandma Schröck waves goodbye. What a lovely experience and good omen for the final part of this journey!
Mystical morning mist in Fuchsmühl, Bavaria, Germany.
After a couple of hours, I am crossing the border to Austria. The journey almost closes yet another cycle (related to my late uncle) as I am spotting an exit sign to Lambach in the area of Upper Austria. I write to Aunt Michi to see if she is there and open for a visit. In retrospect, calling might indeed have made it happen; by the time of her written response, I am already too far along the way to Graz.
I take a longer driving pause to zoom into the opening session of an online Metta-Vipassana meditation retreat with Ven. Vīrañāṇi. I wish I could say that the ensuing part of the trip turns into a meditative drive through the alps, but the truth is that I’m trying to get back home as soon as possible while avoiding the highway with its long tunnels and significant fees. The view along this trip through the valleys, with lush green vegetation covering both slopes of the mountains, is outright stunning. Austria, you gorgeous home country! How could I not love thee?
Part 2: Courage
At first, it may be difficult to admit that your story is constructed from false information. Every life is a patchwork of secrets, half-truths, cover-ups, shams, and disguises. The most authentic among us have hidden compartments, shadowy corners, and contradictions we keep under wraps for fear of destroying our public image. As you disclose these secrets to yourself, you come to peel back layers of falsehood and reveal yourself as you truly are: a complex individual with myriad dimensions and conflicting needs. As you do this, you can integrate these clandestine parts into a more harmonious whole.
Mark Matousek, “Writing to Awaken: A Journey of Truth, Transformation & Self-Discovery”, page 13
What's going on? My energy is low, and I am not sleeping well. This is partly by choice; yesterday night I created a full draft for the final part of my travel diary. I feel weird about it. Perhaps I am just naturally afraid of the possible consequences of self-exposure. of being seen in such intimate detail; in particular – ha! – of being seen as 'flawed', 'weird', or ... what? Interesting. Let me try to formulate this fear. Is it a fear that people won't talk with me any longer when they know that I am open to many belief systems and spiritual traditions, from hardcore scientism via Buddhism, Christianity, the occult? That I am talking with trees, or trying to? That I am an earnest seeker? That I am human? That I am a sexual being?
Conformity is the name of this fear-defense. Two paths: (1) conform and seek a classic career path with 'security'; (2) rebel and seek your own path with 'risk'. Yes, I could lose my marbles. Will the world still hold me? If I went to the farthest end of imagination, experience, and meaning-making, will the world still hold me? If I went "off the deep end", will the world still hold me? Or rather – surprise plot twist! – will I still hold the world, will 'world' and 'I' still hold each other?
This fear suddenly feels completely natural as much as unsubstantiated. Yes, I am standing at the edge. I'm pulling a book with that title from my bookshelf: "Standing at the Edge: Finding Freedom Where Fear and Courage Meet" by Roshi Joan Halifax. A beautiful hardcover book with an evocative cover. Roshi Joan has touched me deeply on several occasions of direct encounter. This book does not come to me now by mere coincidence: it is right for a young edgewalker harboring an old soul, standing at the edge, bound to find freedom where fear and courage meet. <3
– Journal entry on Wednesday, 8th September 2021
Right this book for you is, young edgewalker!
This whole journey has not been a simple and straightforward one. It has led me upon blissful heights and through dark chasms alike. Amidst all complexity and ambivalence, there is much to be grateful for. I recall precious times with family, friends, and children. The excitement of my first podcast interview. Long car rides with back pains and my first oil refill. A most gorgeous temporary home in Groß Nordende. Precious times with Annika and the Mindful Researchers. Expeditions through wood and water. Intimate encounters with trees and crows. Wild dreams and Kundalini energies. A first visit to the lands of Vikings and their heritage. Swimming in the Baltic Sea and the North Sea. Meeting old friends and making new ones. Deeply spiritual conversations. Sleeping in a treehouse. Pushing through layers of pain and love to discover a greater freedom beyond. The courage to walk in uncertainty along the edges between worlds. Planting myriad seeds, of which I could not possibly fathom the fruits they would bear soon enough.
Also, with all the distance traveled, my carbon footprint has been significant. :-(
Part 3: Homecoming
Home sweet beautiful home.
My old home greets me with a sense of comfort amd familiarity. Yes, this is a place that I have made ‘mine’, and it feels good to return to my Ithaca. And yet I know that my days here are numbered. I have made a resolve that in one year I will no longer live in this place. Not because I don’t like it here – I most certainly do! –, but to heed the call that has stirred my heart once more. Will it lead me to Denmark? Norway, Sweden, Iceland? Ireland? Portugal? What luxury to be able to consider such travels and to freely pursue such relocations! I wish we all shared that same privilege, but with current worldly affairs, some humans are treated more equal than others.
I finish unpacking, then return the car to my brother. My 2-year-old niece Ylvi rejoices at the totally age-appropriate gift of a female Viking doll holding a little axe and shield. (Get ’em early, get ’em young!) Her parents receive one of the Danish mustards and beers; in the end, I only keep one beer called “Lagertha’s Bryg”, which is ceremoniously consumed three weeks later with Frédéric near the campfire of a Council gathering at the wonderful Scharmützelhof.
I can has lootz from teh raids in Vikingeland?
The water element is calling me. Walking to the beloved river Mur that flows through my hometown Graz, I listen into a “Cortona Pearl” presentation by Fritjof Capra, and then Zoom into a writing session led by Mark Matousek, encompassing juicy themes such as: saying “no”, people-pleasing, guilt, pretense, entitlement, privilege …
On the way back, I serendipitously meet my massage therapist Antonio whose deeply healing Shiatsu treatments never fail to lead me into altered states of consciousness. Antonio invites me to join him for an early evening jogging round, and I spontaneously accept, which totally crowns the day and paves the way for a well-deserved tight sleep (and sore muscles the next day).
And this brings me indeed to the end of this chapter.
Part 4: Closing
When thy song is shield and mirror To the fair snake-curlèd Pain, Where thou dar’st affront her terror That on her thou may’st attain Perséan conquest; seek no more, O seek no more! Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore.
Has this journey been in any way ‘exceptionally special’? I think not. Most of the things that I have experienced might as well happen to you, and some of your unique experiences I could never begin to fathom. I simply choose to imbue them with meaning, opening myself to whatever layers and levels of experience might become available. This has become a kind of spiritual practice in itself, through which I hope to (re-)discover the spiritual practice that will sustain me further along the path.
All that, and the unexpected fruit of discovery that I am also an edgewalker. The appearance of “coindicentiae oppositorum” in my life does not happen by accident. I am beginning to gradually understand and embrace this as the journey is being integrated.
ALL love is equal.
There has never been an urgency to write about all this, except for a mysterious ‘calling’ to do so, for the sake of discovery and integration, for the love of writing itself, and to finish what I have started. I believe that the practice of writing has changed me and has accompanied an ongoing transition. I am now writing regularly, old-school pen-and-paper style, currently working with Mark Matousek’s book “Writing to Awaken” and the many challenging prompts therein. Perhaps soon there will be more writing here about other themes that I care deeply about – science, spirituality, nature, humanity, love, death, life, … We shall see. I also remain open to the harvest of unexpected fruit from all this; and maybe you hold the key, indeed?
Whoever, wherever, whenever you are: YOU MATTER. You are beautiful. You are loved.
This last picture is taken upon my return to Graz right before unloading the car. The T-shirt (one of my favourites!) has been acquired at a store in The Castro district in San Francisco during the memorable journey of October 2012 – another cycle closing.
Lastly, I’ll share with you a very personal note that I might indeed have written to myself, but it came as a gift from someone who knows me very well, while I was in Denmark:
"Now with the shift in your relationship to (...) you are finally free to love and be loved as you truly desire, in relationship to a woman who's available, open, (...) a person who simplifies your life rather than complicates it, who doesn't send mixed messages or keeps the "tragic romantic" inside you starving and on tenterhooks, addicted to longing, waiting, hurting, and hope. Enough of that! You're a smart, kind, attractive guy with a LOT to offer the right woman. Now that you're (getting) free at last, I trust she will appear fairly soon, and you will finally have the relationship between equals you've been waiting for."
Speaking my heart, Freedom at last: May it be so. Namárië!
One last night’s sleep in what I still consider the best bed ever. One last breakfast on the balcony. Packing ALL THE THINGS into the car trunk. Cleaning the house. A couple of messages with my host. O captain, my captain, yours was a most delightful place to stay!
Fare thee well, o best bed ever, thou enabler of many a most refreshing sleep.
And so it is time to leave Groß-Nordende. I set my first destination coordinates to Annika’s new home, a shared flat in the heart of Hamburg. This course inevitably leads me one more time past the area of Y’s whereabouts.
I feel a great ambivalence in my heart: one voice is making a passionate plea for our freedom, reminding me of the readiness to break old patterns and to leave old dreams behind. The other voice of the “tragic romantic” within reminds me of heartbreak and longing. A strong emotional tension assails me: is the rare time window for our face-to-face communication closing now? Should I not insist on a short meeting, to clarify things between us once and for all?
Or is this just an illusion? A trick of my imagination?
I decide to let go of it. This also means: I decide to feel everything that comes with this choice. I let roars of liberation and stings of heartache flow through me. Phenomena arising and passing away.
Tightly packed car trunk is tightly packed with ALL THE THINGS.
I bring some food items to Annika that would not survive my journey, and shells from the Baltic and North Sea. Annika shows me her new place. Being preoccupied with my inner motions, I am not very attentive, and so it takes me a while to become aware of Annika’s own emotional turmoil at this time. We have a short chat, clearing the air. Being human together isn’t always easier, but ultimately much better – even if we walk on separate journeys.
Setting my destination coordinates to an Airbnb in Bavaria, I see a good 7 hours of driving to come. The first half of the trip is mostly unspectacular. Feeling hungry, I seek out a highly (over-)rated Thai restaurant in Osterode am Harz. The first obstacle is online registration. Oh yes, Covid is still a thing here – I had almost forgotten! Succeeding with the procedure, I am led to a free table.
I cannot shake off the feeling that the interior design composed of dark wood, plastic Buddhas and other Kitsch has nothing to do with Thailand. “But you haven’t been to Thailand yet”, I tell myself as I devour a Pad Thai which tastes absolutely unspectacular and should perhaps be more accurately labeled “sodium glutamate with noodles and veggies resembling what we think you ignorant fools will think of as Pad Thai”. Bon appetit! My only journal entry of today reads, “I hope this Pad Thai will come out where it is supposed to.” (Spoiler: thankfully, it does.)
At least no longer hungry, I continue on the unspectacular journey. But wait … what’s this? A highway exit sign that reads, “Einhornhöhle” (Unicorn Cave)? Surely I have no time for such detours! My hands steer the vehicle accordingly to … the right, taking the exit. Oh well. Unicorn Cave and Burg Scharzfels, here I come!
Welcome to the woods hosting Unicorn Cave and Burg Scharzfels.
Part 2: Unicorn Cave
Feeling lonely and content at the same time, I believe, is a rare kind of happiness.
Nightwish – “Lagoon“, based on a quote from “Bag of Bones” by Stephen King
Passing a sign that says this place closes at 8pm (oh, it’s almost 8pm!), a lone road takes me to an empty parking lot. I see nobody around, hence perhaps nobody will be physically closing this area. A risk to be taken. Why choose the easy way when the finishing line of this journey comes into sight? Nothing beats a good unexpected adventure.
The woods pull me in. I follow the paths that lead to the Unicorn Cave, which is of course already closed at this hour. A wooden unicorn skeleton reminds me of the dried horse at Ribe Vikingecenter the day before. Now I could turn back, or … find Burg Scharzfels while there is still daylight. (You see where this is going!)
Skeleton unicorn guards this cave.
I walk on, passing a tiny bridge, following a sign or two, while making an audio recording in which I reflect on these days, recent weeks, past learnings, challenges ahead, mankind and nature. My unabashed musings bring forth clarity and aha-moments, including:
“Might it help if they (trees) know who we are?”
“I’ve shied away from these kinds of confrontations all my life, for decades. Now how would I be able to do that within a couple of months?”
(Referring to several key confrontations, which actually did happen in recent weeks.)
“If I would go back to my early days with (…) – I’ve had my intuitions, and of course there were things that I’ve had to learn, but I would have said: ‘Hey, I have these intuitions, I have these feelings. I feel things, I sense things. I see when things are off or inconsistent or incongruent. And if I am not speaking up, I am doing a disservice to us all.'”
“I can be wrong. I most likely am wrong, and I want to learn how to be less wrong. And I may be right! It’s not even about wrong or right, it’s about the natural impulse. Suppressing that voice in order to find my true voice in another way, that’s a fucking mixed message! It’s not working, quite simply. It’s like pulling into two directions at once, opening something and shutting it down, with one hand each.”
“Oh gosh, I couldn’t even name a single person with whom I haven’t done this: where I firmly believed that I had ‘seen’ something, and I communicated it, believing it would be good for that person. And then it turns out … well, who knows? – The point is: I need to communicate these things, and I need to learn how to not hold expectations. I guess that’s the key, a kind of ‘share-and-release’. Just offer our discernment – maybe listen first: ‘Is this the right time? Is my perception, my sharing wanted right now? Is there an opening?'”
For some people this is just an interesting rock formation.
And of course –
“Oh fuck, I’ve clearly lost my way!”
I turn around, ready to give up on Burg Scharzfels and to get back to the car (there’s still daylight, after all!), and then …
“It’s the ‘Council attitude’ that helps a lot, the ‘Council Way’ of giving the other person space, so that the other person knows about the gift and is not going to … –”
I stop mid-sentence. What’s that? A sign that shows the way to Burg Scharzfels? Invigorated by the discovery, I ascend a steep path through mesmerizingly mystical woods. The recording reflects my awe, my deep inhalation of the wonders of nature, in a trembling voice:
“It smells amazing! And I’ve read that I am walking between hundreds of millions of years – one rock formation upon another that have arisen as the rock that they are, and I wonder how that happened. One was created 250 million years ago, the other 350. Million. Years. Ago. Whereas our human ancestors have been around for two million years. It’s kind of nothing. It’s like comparing a toddler with a wise old person, saying: ‘Is this the same kind of life experience we’re talking here, the same kind of learning?’ – Well, I’m not so sure. And that is our ancestors, long before we created anything like cultures and civilizations that we know now, let alone our modern world, let alone science, let alone computer technology, mobile phones. It’s crazy. It’s happening so fast. And we get drunk by the velocity, because we can – as if a thousand devils were behind us, as if extinction would be near and we needed to accelerate; but I worry that it is our acceleration that marks our extinction, our downfall.”
And there she is. The castle ruins of Burg Scharzfels rise semi-majestically from a wood-clad, rock-covered plateau. I choose to explore the ruins, and I may or may not choose to slip through a gap in the barrier that (almost) covers the entrance. Why not risk a little fun? This castle was long considered to be an invincible stronghold – that is, until the French conquered it in 1761. This reminds me of our Schlossberg in Graz, which was actually never conquered (take that, France!), but was surrendered to Napoleon (d’oh!) in July 1809 in the aftermath of a ceasefire and later razed by his forces, following the Treaty of Schönbrunn.
Majestic natural rock formations including Burg Scharzfels.
“I see the city [of Barbis] from here! They too must have seen the city in the days of old, when it looked quite different. We forget how much we have achieved. Cities of times long ago were threatened to crumble and burn, so now we have made things quite stable and enduring and solid. It seems we know how to repair, we know how to develop further. As a human species, we made it. We don’t have to do more. But we forget. We want to build more, and larger, and win somehow against ‘the others’, and I wonder why, I wonder why? Who wins? Who gains?”
I let my gaze wander across the horizon, beholding the city of Barbis afar. My eyes also spot little plants growing from the cracks in the walls around me. This has always amazed me: little seedlings find enough nutrients to grow here. Imagine that! They grow and they perish; they take and they give. The Honorable Harvest. The Law of Reciprocity.
“Yes, I understand: trying to break new frontiers of knowledge, traveling to the stars, colonizing Mars. I understand that wish. Yes, I would do the same! But it has a cost, and we don’t know it. I think the cost is much different, and the Law of Reciprocity is not guaranteed. We take, so that we can achieve this, but what do we give? What do we give? And why the hurry, this restlessness, not being contented?”
Creepy wooden bear stands guard.
While abandoning the stronghold, I remember my conversation with Björke the day before – it already feels like a year ago – in which we discovered that sacred place of “… being contented exactly where we are: nothing is needed, we have everything. If I lost this mobile phone now, I would still have everything. Even if I lost my life – not that I plan to, but I would still have everything.”
I walk back to … oh, what’s that path to the left? (And there is still daylight, after all!)
I decide to roam these woodlands further, off the beaten track, feeling irritated by plastic litter all around. As I want to turn back to the beaten track, another inconspicuous path leading to the Frauensteinklippe reveals itself. A wooden bear stands guard along the way. Here, for the first time in ages, I am feeling genuinely creeped out. I’m not sure if I believe in spirits, but along this track I’m sure the spirits are dancing while not giving a f*ck about what I believe or not. I hasten my footsteps.
The Frauensteinklippe, a natural formation of dolomitic rock, resembles a human face (mmmm, creepy!) and gives me a Kundalini sneeze as well as imaginary flashes of “seeing” at least one human – I think a woman – having jumped to their death here, stricken by madness and/or despair. Or is it just my vivid imagination?
I decide not to follow their example. I bow out and rush back, past creepy passageways, past creepy wooden bear, and now finally back to … wait, what’s that? A strange tree! Might it talk with me? It is called “Schäferbuche“, one of the oldest trees around. We hang out for a while.
Creepy Frauensteinklippe looks like a face.
At some point, I actually do walk back to the car. Or rather, I’m trying to. This wanderer is now completely lost in these woods, and even Google Maps ain’t helping. Daylight fades. Nightfall is upon me and these lands. I surrender to a melange of intuition and reason, in which I feel strangely safe and certain, hastening my footsteps. I begin reflecting on life and love, as if it were time for a last confession before the darkness swallows me whole.
“Of course I love S, and of course I love Y. That is not the question. ‘What is mine to do?’ is rather the question. (…) It’s very hard to let Y go. Yet letting go I must, for some reason. I don’t think I can tell what will happen when I do, I just know I must. Not sure that I know how to communicate it, or is it not about communicating? How does one let go? How does one let free? I want her to be free, and I want myself to be free, even more than I want our love. (…) Therefore this journey, being alone in Denmark and Germany, did serve. To ‘be my own man’, content with myself, being able to love myself, able to take good care of myself. Being able to take risks and to recuperate from the mishaps. This was a very important lesson, and it could only come about when I gave up waiting and hoping.”
There! This is the path I have come from. Past the Unicorn Cave, back to the parking lot. Maybe I can make it to the car just in time before nightfall?
“It’s gonna be quite some way back. I hope there won’t be a roadblock, or I would have to sleep in the car, and I would have a very long ride tomorrow. It’s gonna be a long ride as it is. But I wanted this! I’m kinda glad that the journey isn’t yet over and that I’m not yet in safe waters of my harbour, my homestead. Still ways to go. – Oh, this is a steep ascent! The ascent of humanity. I remember the first time I read about Charles Eisenstein [in 2013], and I felt … I was envious! My goodness, I was such an uncouth youngster. I went to these places and thought I had to be somehow ‘better than’ these people. So much has happened since! So I read Charles Eisenstein’s bio and thought, ‘man, this all sounds very good, but he must have this wrong and that’, and I guess I was filled with a little bit of General Semantics pride and arrogance of some kind, thinking that I ‘knew’. And I had ambition, and I had much less humility. More insecurity and less humility. (…) So I don’t know what’s happening in my life, but I can see now that there are big changes. How good! (…) And I know that a lot [of change] has happened just lately.”
(I should add here that Charles Eisenstein has become one of my biggest inspirations, and I immensely treasure the times we’ve met in person. More stories to tell.)
Almost out of the woods, embraced by dusk.
Inwardly turning towards my mentor, with whom I’ve had a kerfuffle some weeks ago:
“Yes, he is right about the Dharma, and I’m sure he’s got a valid perspective and a lot of experience and direct knowledge in various ways. And the path works for him, and I’m very glad. And I suppose if I were able to take it up, it might work for me too. That said, I feel like I have to take up a different path that I have yet to discover. (…) And he has to accept that. He can tell me any stuff that he wants to tell me, give advice, or even nudge me. I just will be firm about my own discernment of what serves me.”
Are these words coming from wise discernment and/or egoic delusion?
Final challenge of the day: find my Airbnb in Fuchsmühl, or prepare for a wild night in the car. Strange roads are winding through foggy woods, uphill, downhill, without cell reception, while a sizzle and my inferior nighttime eyesight make this part of the trip particularly unfun. With my senses on high alert, more than three hours later at 1:30am, I finally pull into the parking lot and sneak into my room, where a comfortable bed awaits this quite exhausted adventurer.
