(It’s time to rewind and examine the origins of this journey. I composed this piece in the days before it started. Posting it now with a few adjustments.)

Fortunately, I didn’t think this through. 

Setting foot on new terrain has become the order of the day, and it's been leading you right through the valley of a "Dark Night". But I don't mean to sound gloomy here: trust me, dear traveler, it's all good. You've wanted this. Things are beginning to fall into place. Several parts are transforming fast, bearing the gift of growing pains, letting go, and freedom on the other side. Trust the process.

I’ve been on this journey for a long time. I’ve meandered and taken a couple of loops. I’ve forgotten and re-membered its purpose, I’ve lost and regained faith, I’ve made wishes …

And now I remember.

Let’s rewind to where it all began … to get the old story out (of the way) and start living into a new one: this very present.

Be careful what you wish for, part 1: Awakening the Spiritual Heart

I’ve encountered three major shifts in this adult lifetime that lastingly changed the way in which I’ve been experiencing life ever since. The first one happened in May 2005. I sometimes call it my first glimpse of a “spiritual awakening”, though perhaps “awakening the spiritual heart” is more accurate. It hit me suddenly, relentlessly, without warning, as if by grace – though in retrospect it was preceded by a sequence of falling dominos, spread over several weeks.

Just a couple of hours earlier, in the course of an inspiring evening with my dear friends Hope and Lea, I had uttered the wish to “be able to expand our capacities”. Later that night, as soon as I had returned home and entered my room, I started feeling dizzy. I followed an inner voice to “sit down” and “let it happen”, and then … something happened for which I had no words, no concepts at all. An utterly new and hyper-intense quality of experience grabbed my entire being and filled all my senses completely for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn’t do anything but surrender to it. After perhaps 10 minutes of chronos time, when the storm had weathered itself, I reopened my eyes and literally perceived the world for the first time.

Integration was challenging. I was basically experiencing an extended period of several weeks of bliss and unprecedented ease around formerly difficult situations, while knowing my purpose in life. Yet I also felt alienated from the world I had once known. I had never remotely imagined that such a quality of experience would be possible, and I had no idea yet that this experience was indeed shared in kind by several people in the past, present and future.

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When thy seeing blindeth thee
To what thy fellow-mortals see;
When their sight to thee is sightless;
Their living, death; their light, most lightless;
Search no more—
Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore.

FROM ‘The Mistress of Vision’ by Francis Thompson

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I found trusted friends to talk with, who seemed to understand and could relate. However still, in the ensuing weeks and months I hesitated to follow my intuition to dive deeper, fearing that by doing so I might lose my relationships, my sanity, or both. I held onto a sense of safety of the familiar. I held onto my familiar sense of identity. I felt unworthy of this mysterious grace and sought to “make it about others” whom I deemed more “deserving”. Thereby I gradually “forgot” my clarity and purpose. Oh, this cunning ego with its most artful defenses!

Even so, the mystical experience changed me forever. I became genuinely interested in consciousness, psychology, Buddhism and various contemplative and spiritual traditions. I started meditating and attended my first meditation retreat in September 2006 in a beautiful place called Puregg (see Puregg 2006 diary). It was the beginning of a long journey filled with beauty, grace, challenge, growth, and of course heartbreak.

Be careful what you wish for, part 2: Sex, Death, Enlightenment

The second shift in 2012 was an extended alchemy of “sudden epiphany” and “slow burner”.

In January 2010 I started working as a member of the ATLAS Collaboration at CERN on my particle physics PhD thesis. Living in France and Switzerland for the next 3 1/2 years gave me a novel sense of (relative) independence and self-sufficiency. I learned to dance Salsa in Geneva, co-habited with 7 amazing guys in a house and garden in Meyrin, and was tremendously inspired when my friend Ling switched her career from “CERN physicist” to “editor at Médécins Sans Frontières”. I thought: How courageous! Could I ever do such a thing? For I already had a gnawing sense – a sort of memory of the future – that my life journey was bound to unfold elsewhere, not in physics. While that possibility would still remain unfathomable and unsettling for a while, a seed was being planted.

One morning in Vienna in March 2012, on the day of my birthday celebration with family and friends, I met Tanya from Australia who had just begun traveling through Europe. Tanya’s wholehearted way of embracing life and adventure inspired me tremendously, even more so when she instantly accepted my spontaneous invitation (after only 10 minutes of beautiful conversational flow) to join us for the celebration that evening. I wondered: How open-heart-minded! Would I ever do such a thing? Thereby, the seed was being watered.

Working at CERN felt exciting, expanding, and intimidating – everyone else seemed like an expert to me. I eventually “found my place” in Spring 2012 when taking the lead on a new project (the “Minimum Bias analysis at √s = 8 TeV” in short) that would become the heart of my PhD thesis. I overcompensated for my earlier feelings of inadequacy, and overworked like a maniac … until my body collapsed. One night in late July 2012, I experienced a severe panic attack and thought I was about to die from a heart attack. My friend and housemate Andrew accompanied me to the nearby private hospital where I spent several hours – literally a very Dark Night – filled with boundless dread and intense fear of imminent death, even as the caring nurses reassured me that I was actually safe.

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Learn to water joy with tears,
Learn from fears to vanquish fears;
To hope, for thou dar’st not despair,
Exult, for that thou dar’st not grieve;
Plough thou the rock until it bear;
Know, for thou else couldst not believe;
Lose, that the lost thou may’st receive;
Die, for none other way canst live.

FROM ‘The Mistress of Vision’ by Francis Thompson

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In the following days, while slowly recuperating at home and journaling, I asked three times what I really wanted in life. The third response wrote itself through my hand, in some mysterious way beyond my control: “Aufwachen” (awaken). I stared at this word with disbelief, although it shouldn’t have surprised me. It was a resurgence of the calling from May 2005. The realization shook me to the core. A new question arose: what to do now? (A handy defense mechanism: Analysis paralysis is your friend! Good luck figuring this one out!)

I took the next two weeks off, visited home, meditated in Puregg. I returned to CERN to work for two more weeks, then embarked upon a week-long vacation in France with my dear uncle, aunt, and friends. Little did I know that I would meet Y there, a muse who precisely matched all elements on my wishlist for “the kind of woman I want to come into my life”, penned into my journal half a year earlier. Be careful what you wish for: the universe delivers!

Our brief encounter turned my life upside down in the most beautiful, passionate, intense, loving, challenging, heart-breaking-open, soul-expanding ways. Letting go of Y was the hardest and most liberating thing at the same time. (“Remember that challenges are blessings in drag”, she would write many years later.)

A couple of weeks later, I went on my first journey that would alter the course of my life. For the first time I chose to travel not for anybody else’s sake, but only from the unmistakable clarity of inner direction. I patiently awaited that moment of complete clarity and utter freedom. One morning I awoke from sleep, knew “this is it!”, jumped out of bed, and booked my tickets straight away.

I went via London to visit Tanya for two days (memorable last words: “I wouldn’t be on this journey if it weren’t for you“), and on to California for almost three weeks. There I befriended street artists and homeless people, couchsurfed for the first time in San Luis Obispo where I almost stumbled into a barfight, became friends with amazing hosts, slept like a baby on a couch near the oceanside in Oceanside, and visited the Metta Forest Monastery where I had a memorable private conversation with Thanissaro Bhikkhu. At the SAND 2012 conference I met Scott Virden Anderson who would soon become a dear friend, mentor and supporter of my career transition and my spiritual journey. There I also met Mark Matousek who teaches transformation through storytelling and has authored, among other books, the spiritual memoir “Sex, Death, Enlightenment“. I will never forget our post-conference after-breakfast conversation and the powerful farewell hug. “Thank you for finding me“, he said. “Thank you for being there to be found“, I responded. And we shared tears of gratitude.

Thus further seeds were being planted and watered, my “nomad soul” was awakened, and a new direction of life was initiated. This entire journey – and much of the year 2012 – turned out to be the most soul-expanding journey of my life …

… until this year 2021. Which brings us to shift number three:

Be careful what you wish for, part 3: The Answer to Everything

This year on March 14^th, 2021, I turned 3*14 = 42. (Also, 2*21 = 42 … numberphiles of the world unite!) And we all know that 42 is the answer to life, the universe, and everything, right? Well, once more I asked for change, and change literally arrived like there was no tomorrow.

The day started beautifully: in the morning Tanya (now living again in Australia with husband, daughter and puppy) joined my family for a virtual birthday celebration and hilarious storysharing. Remembering our old stories, my nomad soul came back to life. I also felt incredibly happy for Tanya being the mother of an adorable two-year-old. I thought the day couldn’t get any better than this.

More virtual celebration and storysharing followed in the evening with dear friends from myriad social circles. My heart was overflowing with joy and gratitude for such abundance. Yet still on the same evening, an unexpected virtual reunion would turn my life upside down. After years of silence Y wrote, I responded, and we talked on Zoom for 16 hours straight – indeed like there was no tomorrow.

The universe delivered again, and it has its ways. I had asked for transformation, not for eternal bliss. In its infinite generosity, the universe giveth both: “transformation” and “not eternal bliss”. It does have Divine Humor! Two wonderfully soul-expanding months later, in a quite different sense there was indeed no tomorrow for us … yet a new tomorrow for each of us.

In these two months – they felt like years – I contracted and expanded more fully, experienced more intimate connection, revealed deeper layers of trust and strength, felt more intense emotions (most prominently love, compassion, joy, heartache, anger, acceptance), and conquered larger “insurmountable” blocks and “unfathomable” barriers than in all my 42 years before. Some days felt too blissful to be true (can such love even be real?); some days felt incredibly blissful and absolutely true; some days felt like plunging into the bottomless abyss of heartbreak, wrestling in freefall with Letting Go. (Which is where we landed.)

Admittedly, I had greatly desired a different course of events. Letting go of the beloved is not my favorite part of dukkha, nor has it been my forté. But even more so, I wanted to grow, to be free and whole. I committed to grow on my own terms, to fully and unabashedly embody that awake and true being that can only be unveiled by letting go of clinging to pretty-much-everything^TM. And I genuinely wanted the same for her, as for every being in this world: to be free and whole. I admit that it wasn’t always easy, but whenever I recommitted to this highest good and upheld my heart’s promise, it liberated me too, heartbeat upon heartbeat.

And so the following two months, leading up to this day, have brought even further liberation and growth. I have plunged fully and intentionally into this “Dark Night”, embracing it with unwavering determination. I intend to leave no stone unturned, while also being more compassionate with myself and others, trusting and following my inner guidance and a growing awareness of innate sensitivity. I have lost count of the barriers, blocks, fears, habits, patterns that have been unraveling since, some intentionally and others as unintended-yet-pleasant consequences. A lot of it has to do with releasing codependency.

The not so pleasant news is that such a “Dark Night” process can hurt like hell. It runs its own course, has its own pace, and lasts on its own terms. Yet the more I let go of whatever there is to let go of, the more life begins to “work out” by itself. My inner and outer relationships are transforming fast. By simply trusting to be myself, and choosing to stand up for myself, I confronted my dad for the first time ever, which was – despite the painful context – incredibly empowering, liberating and healing. Likewise with my mentor and other “authority figures”. Consider me a late bloomer! The best part is, in my experience thus far, that such honest confrontations tend to establish clear boundaries and bring the parties closer together. It’s like an omni-win.

Approval-seeking, subjugation and self-sacrifice have reigned my life for too long; it’s a long and arduous path to release them, to release the stories(!) by which I’ve held them in place. Stories about ego, fear of you-name-it, ‘insurmountable’ difficulty. But then it suddenly turns out to be quite simple, and the stories are being revealed as untrue, and their unraveling begins.

This is completely new terrain for me, and sometimes it appears hard to navigate. But I am already committed to continue until that task is done, excited for what may come next. I fumble along the way, while learning to set new boundaries and to accept boundaries of others (these two beautifully go hand in hand). It appears that the main ingredient for setting boundaries is trusting my innate sensitivity and giving it a voice; from there, the boundaries naturally establish themselves. What if this is true for everyone?

Actually, I think this is true for everyone. Perhaps with slight adaptations. In any case, I’ll keep on practicing and learning where I can.

I am blessed with dear friends who know how to support, and whom I can support, who have walked or are still walking similar paths. Yet clearly I cannot defer my responsibility to others any longer. Orienting myself along their opinions, advice, and real or imagined expectations – once a source of “safety” and comfort (and also discomfort and rebellion) for me – would send me straight back to square one. No, this journey calls for a different way, one that I have started to taste in 2005 and again in 2012: to trust my intuition, this inner guidance, this inner authority. To take all that I’ve learned on board, discern clearly, and discard what no longer serves. To let go of what I ‘know’, to lose myself in order to find the way. And so too for everyone. Like this:

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Pierce thy heart to find the key;
With thee take
only what none else would keep.

from ‘The Mistress of Vision’ by Francis Thompson

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Ain’t that a damn good poem?

Be careful what you wish for, pt.4: Writing To Heal

I’ve been reading the book “Conquering Shame and Codependency” by Darlene Lancer and working with the exercises. It’s really good. VERY good.

Journaling and writing helps, too: I’ve recently taken the “Writing To Heal” course with Mark Matousek and will continue that process. Perhaps therefore I’m writing here again, which I’ve wanted to do for an eternity. It sometimes feels quite challenging to remain fully authentic and to write all of this here “for myself”, sharing it with you only for the sake of creative expression and healing transformation; neither to seek approval nor to cause any other desired outcome. (Work in progress.) Maybe I’ll bore you, maybe I’ll piss you off, maybe I’ll amuse you, maybe I’ll inspire you, maybe you won’t even notice any of this process here and I’m just talking to myself … Whatever be the case, it shall never get in the way of the process. And when I let go of all that, writing happens and joy arises.

And now I remember. I can barely put into words what that means, not yet. It’s like being showered by grace all over, as in 2005, but also new and different.

As in 2005, I remember (and forget and remember) my purpose. As in 2012, I have awaited clarity until the moment of doubtless clarity as to why and for whom I am doing this. A journey lies ahead, beginning in a few hours: this time northbound, to Germany. It will span just under two weeks, but after the pandemic lockdowns even that feels abundantly adventurous. I’ve had other ideas and hopes when I first planned it, but as we know, God in her Divine Humor laughs lovingly about such human matters!

My true purpose for this journey turns out to be much simpler. It is a journey to my innermost self, a quest of releasing habitual patterns and old stories, a “descent to soul”. It asks me to trust my intuition, to follow my heart, to release what no longer serves, to lose myself in order to find the way … and to awaken. Magic happens when I travel and live this way. I’ll also be taking my Ocean Soul for a swim in the North Sea and the Baltic Sea and set foot on Viking lands for the first time.

(edit: as of today, that journey has already concluded, yet of course it was only the beginning of a larger journey. :-))

I’ve once heard Gary Weber say, “Put all your chips on the table!” – by which he meant the spiritual path towards awakening. (That was at SAND EU 2013 in the Netherlands. I remember we talked after the conference, an hour or so before an unforgettable walk in the woods with a dear friend, which turned into my first ever psychedelic experience.)

I’m betting on a pair of aces: (1) heal thy (not-)self, in order to (2) transcend it. In terms of Buddhist philosophy, that involves the realization of not-self (anatta) and emptiness (suñyata). My concerns are: do I have time for part 1, and do we have time for parts 1&2? And if so, what are the right ingredients? What’s their right balance, the right order? How do I integrate what I have learned and yet to learn, without getting sidetracked by ego, shadow, story, desire, …?

Tricky. Yet I’ve been preparing for this. I’ll travel with intention, sincerity, humility, not-knowing, love, compassion, trust, commitment. I’ll give my sincere dedication to this quest.

In the days, weeks, months to come, I intend to share that process of discovery and transformation here. I know deep within that sharing all of this is good for something, though I don’t yet know for what exactly. I trust that it will reveal itself. Perhaps you hold the answer?

I’ll conclude with the Bodhisattva Vows and “Night Chant” at Upaya Zen Center that I’ve heard a couple of times from Roshi Joan Halifax. May it be a guiding light on our journeys:

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Creations are numberless, I vow to free them.
Delusions are inexhaustible, I vow to transform them.
Reality is boundless, I vow to perceive it.
The awakened way is unsurpassable, I vow to embody it.

Let me respectfully remind you –
Life and death are of supreme importance –
Time passes swiftly and opportunity is lost –
Let us awaken –
    awaken . . .
Do not squander your life.

– Roshi Joan Halifax, Bodhisattva Vows and Night Chant at Upaya Zen Center

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<3

Saturday, 19^th June 2021

I woke up to composing a poem in the early morning on the balcony. Being kissed by the muses is always a blessing, especially when they come in more-than-human form. The poem expressed an ongoing transformation in me, a shift in priorities, a desire for time in nature, a calling towards solitude, the dawning of a deeper kind of mystical knowing.

I made breakfast. Annika woke up late and ate only little as she was not feeling too well. We fitted her bike into the spacious trunk of the car and went to Kollmar beach, where we found a tree that provided shade and grounding. After a delightfully refreshing swim in the Elbe river at high tide (we didn’t know that later that evening, a 9-year-old girl tragically drowned on the very same beach, likely at lower tide), Annika made a discovery while leaning against the trunk.

“When you lean back like this for a while, the tree appears to be much larger”, she said.

I tried it too, with similar results. When viewed from the ‘outside’, the tree appeared to have its normal size, just as you would perceive it. Yet leaning against the trunk, feeling the support of this old being, looking skywards into its crown of branches and leaves, it appeared vast to both of us … even majestic.

Annika suggested getting fish sandwiches, which helped me fulfill the unspoken commandment that thou shalt eat a fish sandwich in Hamburg. We also bought freshly harvested local cherries before heading toward Glückstadt. Despite its promising name this town felt rather unspectacular, so we sought a different route closer to the water. Getting lost is almost always a good choice. Now it led us through lush green vegetation to a dead end and a herd of sheep. Annika the Sheep Whisperer offered them water, but the sheep didn’t seem particularly impressed. Yet she made another discovery as she keenly observed how the sheep took turns in providing shade for each other. The herd looks after its kin without arguing.

To get to Annika’s self-made garden house, we took the scenic route through Wedel and woods on the outskirts of Hamburg. Along the way, Annika suggested that I could invite Y to join us there and/or for a later walk along the Elbe river. “It’s always good to have data”, she argued. I agreed, and I also observed inner resistance. We took a break in the woods. I pondered for a while. Do I really want this? Do I want it today? Do I fear rejection?

Eventually curiosity won. I called – no response – then texted. Y declined, as I had anticipated, yet I was happy to notice that it didn’t hurt much. Besides, Annika and I got enmeshed in Hamburg’s Friday afternoon traffic. But if there’s a will there’s a way, and when one’s mind is set and determined, all paths are eventually leading to Annika’s garden house.

We climbed through the roof window and stood atop, then pumped water from a well (old school!) to water the garden plants. Annika took her bike and went to a social soccer viewing with friends, while I stayed behind in the shade of the garden house for a Zoom session with Mark Matousek’s “The Seekers Forum” writing circle. As fate would have it, today’s writing prompts fit my journey to a tee. Here is a sample:

1. How do you show bravery in your life?
2. Where do you withhold love today? What specific fears drive you to do so?
3. Where does pride get in the way? How does trust play a role for you?

Boy, did I have something to write and to share in the Q&A! The coexistence of (1) a genuine desire and appreciation for freedom and solitude, and (2) a genuine longing for connection and the expression of love, can seem paradoxical, even irreconcilable. I have obviously chosen a life of seeking such realms of paradox, perhaps in order to reconcile them – although admittedly, skillful navigation in these realms does not always present itself as straightforward. Mark’s response was clear and compassionate as always. Two ravens appeared right afterwards. But of course!

On the drive back, I needed to go practically “blind” as the GPS wasn’t working for some reason. Yet I already knew the way. It amazes me how after only 1-2 expositions to a new environment, our cognitive system can actually remember it well enough to navigate therein. (For the pen & paper roleplayers: my W100 on “street lore” was successful.)

I remembered a sign pointing towards a parking lot in the woods, leading the willing adventurer to a path along Holmer Grenzweg. I was such a willing one. There was plenty of daylight left. I walked slowly and admired the oak trees on both sides. At some point, I began to wonder if they knew about the stars. What if I told them the stories I knew?

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When to the new eyes of thee
All things by immortal power,
Near or far,
Hiddenly
To each other linkèd are,
That thou canst not stir a flower
Without troubling of a star …

From ‘The Mistress of Vision‘ by Francis Thompson

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I began reciting the second half of the poem From ‘The Mistress of Vision’ by Francis Thompson, slowly, slowly, feeling each word, beholding oak and beech with reverence. Before reaching the end of the poem, my whole state of consciousness had shifted. I felt like treading a sacred realm that had always been there, and only now was my entire being completely and utterly immersed in it.

I walked on until I stood before a very tall and presumably old oak on the left side of the path. We shared space for a long while. I said my name and declared my intention. I recited the whole poem again from beginning to end. Oak listened.

I told Oak about Cedar who lives on the lands of an area that we humans mostly refer to as Seattle. I shared, in whispers and mostly in thought, about humanity, human cultures and history as we know them, science and technology, telescopes and spacecraft. I shared all that I knew about all that we know as a human species, about distant stars that twinkle when one stirs a flower and even when Oak grows.

I acknowledged the heavy price that we pay and inflict upon the more-than-human world, and how many of Oak’s kin had to perish for us living our story of progress, and how many more beings had to perish alongside them. I wept for all of us, for all of our kins. These weren’t tears of guilt or shame. These were tears of knowing and feeling directly.

Oak listened. It seemed that this time it was my turn to share from the heart, and to be received by Oak’s unwavering presence.

Back home a candlelight dinner for one awaited, with more pasta and a glass of wine to conclude a long day on the balcony – marking the first half of this journey. The second half would inevitably lead me much deeper.

I have come here for this. I am ready.

Soundtrack of the day:

Wardruna – “Kvitravn”

Friday, 18^th June 2021

It was time to deepen the journey and spice things up by drawing some Tarot cards. This wouldn’t be as much fun as the “Psychedelic Glass Bead Game” I had played twice with geeky friends, but it would be more personal. I went for one of the simplest forms described in the book “Tarot Basics Crowley” by Johannes Fiebig and Evelyn Bürger: draw three day cards that represent your situation, task, and solution. Easy.

Situation: Queen of Cups. Water of Water, Great Mother, anima mundi. Trust your inner voice and let it flow. Go to a river or lake and meditate there.

Task: Knight of Cups. Fire of Water, Percival, wounded healer. What do you believe in? Seek the holy grail. Unite heart and intellect. Balance the opposites.

Solution: The Magus. Hermes Trismegistus, active, vital, decisive. Expand your horizon. Walk your unique way and discover the yet unseen.

Even without these hints, I knew it was time for a close encounter with water. But first I needed to find a replacement for the cool white hat that I had lost – alas! – along the road trip through Germany. I went to raid the nearby town of Elmshorn, earning the spoils of a new summer hat, a magic cap, swimming trunks of awesomeness, and sunscreen. A homeless man and I exchanged smiles twice in passing. His friendly gaze resembled that of a Bodhisattva – not that I could explain to you now exactly how a Bodhisattva gazes, so just take my word for it. I intended to return a third time, but when I looked for him he had disappeared. So I wished him well, wherever and whoever he was, and recalled the many times in 2012 (and since) when I had chatted with homeless people on the streets, or with street artists; these encounters had often turned out to be the true blessings of the day.

I drove to Kollmar beach with the intention to swim in the Elbe river. The tide was so low that in lieu of actual swimming, I only buried my feet in the soft mud that covers the riverbanks. At least I’m touching water. It was an uncanny feeling to sink almost knee-deep into something you cannot see. It also felt strangely comforting, as if Gaia herself would wrap me into her semi-solid, semi-liquid body of mud & moisture.

Meanwhile, two young men went further into the water to play with a ball, and unsuccessfully tried to convince a group of teenage girls to join them. (What I did not know: further upstream in Hamburg, a 15-year-old boy tragically drowned that evening while swimming in the same river.)

With little time left, I went on to Friedrichshafen and sat cross-legged on the slope of a dike, casting a meditative gaze across the shores of the Wadden Sea. Then I steered back home to raid some fresh fruits and vegetables from a local farm shop, as well as a loaf of “Shield Maiden” bread from a small bakery that knows how to name their goods. At home Annika already awaited me in the garden, herself having ambitiously taken a bike tour amidst the scorching summer heat (at least 35°C) all the way from central Hamburg to Groß Nordende.

Annika finalized slides for her upcoming presentation, while “we” (myself, Mary and Francesco from the Mindful Researchers “gardeners” group) prepared to open our first “Mindful Presentations” session – a new format that one of our community members, Niko, had proposed a couple weeks earlier.

What makes this meeting format special is that instead of a dry “classic” presentation for academic peers, we encourage each other to share and discuss our work in the context of “our deeper reflections on why and how we care about our research, as well as our non-academic ventures, ambitions, motivations, inspirations, contemplative practices, and questions in life that matter to us” – to quote from our newsletter. Or in Annika’s words:

A space where researchers can experiment, explore, test-run “less typically academic” (whatever that means in their specific discipline) reflections. Stepping deeper in our work, or branching off into new directions tends to involve uncertainty – and others willing and able to (joyfully, calmly, wildly) hold the space for us to do so. We want to offer such a space (to ourselves, and we invite others).

Barring a couple minor technical issues, our session went extraordinarily well. Willeke, Annika and Niko presented their research and life passions among a group of 17 participants. This was followed by a highly engaged “open conversation” / Q&A, for which most attendees stayed way beyond the official closing time. What a blessing!

After this highlight, I felt incredibly hungry and made pasta with veggie sugo, spiced up with swiftly sautéed mushrooms and, well, spices. It stayed warm outside way beyond nightfall. Annika had beer and fruits, I had wine and pasta, and we reflected on mind and life.

Finally sinking into bed, I wondered … soon the midpoint of this journey would be reached. What more was to come, when meetings and other duties were behind me? What magic was dawning, which places were calling, whom else would I encounter, and whose secrets were awaiting their revelation?

Soundtrack of the day:

Corvus Corax – “Sverker” (album), “Skál” (album)

To be honest, I cannot remember what exactly I was listening to on that day. But it’s a good moment to plug the earthy medieval music of Corvus Corax. You cannot go wrong by listening to Corvus Corax … you might only go a bit crazy and perhaps surrender your body and soul to ecstatic dance. :-)

Thursday, 17^th June 2021

I woke up early, grabbed my phone, read a comment from Odd asking if I would also come by Norway on this trip, and read another comment from Y. Sinking back into sleep, the feather still next to my bed, a series of dreams unfolded.

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Learn to dream when thou dost wake,
Learn to wake when thou dost sleep.

from “The Mistress of Vision” by Francis Thompson

---

Sequence 1: In a large house, I am sharing the bed with a petite, dark-skinned young woman. We are both around 20. Clearly this young woman is Y (whom in reality I haven’t met before her late 30s) although she also reminds me of my first partner. We are under one blanket, and it seems that we are not supposed to be too close because of her parents who are also home. Y places her head on my shoulder and chest, and I lean my head against hers and wrap her in my arms. Our bodies become more closely entangled, holding each other tight. Y seems to desire more, while I make sure we don’t go too far. I put the blanket aside and notice I am naked, yet not ashamed at all. I find my boxers and put them on, not for my own sake, but to protect Y from possible unpleasant consequences through her parents. Scene change.

Sequence 2: I am driving with someone (Y?) on a hot Summer day, intending to park the car in a small lot. A policeman blocks that part, so I manoeuver to turn the car and leave. I see Odd in a car nearby, and we exchange some words through the open windows. I continue driving to an excavation or construction site that seems located in the US, perhaps in NYC, although the scenery altogether looks more like Italy. There is a large gathering of protesters who are opposing plans for building manmade things on this land. A policecar is approaching from behind with blue lights, and I stop to let it pass through a narrow passage before me. Yet the policecar waits and the driving cop ushers us to go first. We arrive at the site, now walking rather than driving. I see a CERN colleague, Claudia, many indigenous people, news reporters, and some very ancient trees. I am carrying a camera and microphone too, as if being a journalist, and I feel like one. Then I look more intently at the trees … and everything falls silent around me. I become one with the trees. They look like olive trees, standing on leg-like trunks. I feel a surge of Kundalini energy rising and accumulating in my solar plexus area (for the first time ever in a dream, as far as I can remember!) and I get close to sneezing to discharge the intense energy, but manage to maintain it so it can circulate through me. The thought occurs, “This is almost like a dream, but it’s real!” I start floating and drifting uphill, where the people too are walking backwards and uphill in a row, as if to take a position from which they will make their stand. I feel awestruck by the sacredness of this moment. There is a direct connection to the land, the people, the trees, to everything. And I remember. I remember my promise to the Cedar tree in Seattle. I remember that I too am here to stand up for the trees. Scene change.

Sequence 3: Again with Y, now in our 40s, at a massage parlor close to the previous scene. I am sitting comfortably in a reclining chair. We are naked, which feels again perfectly natural. Y is performing some kind of acrobatics together with another woman, and declares that she “already has some experience with this”, that she is already knowing something that others will be catching up with in their own time. I awaken.

I immediately made a voice recording to remember these dreams in vivid detail. The feather was still there.

The day was filled with meetings, close to seven hours of screen time. These included a presentation I gave about applications and possible benefits of the “Systemic Konsensing” method in science and research, exemplified by experiences with the Mindful Researchers.

As the day proceeded, an inner voice commanded me to “get off the fucking screen.” I still had some things to do and further meetings scheduled, including a couple of sessions at the Toward A New Way of Being With Plants 2021 conference. Now the desire to let go of all meetings and work, to dive deeper into the journey, became loud and clear. Not yet, not yet, but soon.

Soundtrack of the day:

None.

Wednesday, 16^th June 2021

Breakfast at sunrise on a lovely balcony, surrounded by birdsong – the day started well. I finished unpacking ALL THE THINGS (including books), composed drafts for travel blog posts, and wrapped up preparations before having a pleasant meeting with the Planning Committee for the upcoming European Summer Research Institute in August.

As the outside temperature rose towards full-fledged pre-summer heat, I started feeling hangry and grumpy. Today was not a good day for doing things. This was meant to be a slow day. I felt tired and ready to rest, but also restless.

In the evening I felt the urge to go for a walk and hunt and gather some food. Delighted that REWE was open until 22:00, I started walking at 21:00 when the sun was still well above the horizon. Strolling past woods and through alleys, I felt a peculiar urge to connect with the trees and other nonhuman beings around me. Moments later, I heard a crow in the distance.

A bird’s feather on the sidewalk caught my attention. I reached down and picked it up. Walking on, a sudden remembrance of the principles of “The Honorable Harvest” from Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book “Braiding Sweetgrass” stopped me in my tracks. Did I introduce myself? Did I declare my intention and purpose? Did I ask permission for this gift?

I softly whispered, “My name is Wolfgang. I intend to take this feather for the purpose of being more connected with all of you. Thank you for granting me this gift.”

Walking on, I wondered if that hadn’t still been far too hasty. Had I made a genuine ask, and had I awaited a response, or did I just assume that my wish would be granted?

A few steps later, my entire perception shifted. A thousand sounds filled my ears at once – birds, wind, rustling leaves, distant cars. I beheld my surroundings with sharp acuity – trees, grass, flowers, bushes, stones, houses, windows, cars, clouds, skies, reflections of evening sunlight. I felt the presence of all things animate and inanimate, and myself within.

Shopping at REWE pulled my awareness back into the mundane world. I still generally find it difficult to keep walking in several worlds at once, although it happens more often these days. On the way back home I listened to a couple of songs from Arstidir’s “Nivalis” and Wardruna’s “Kvitravn” album. Unsurprisingly, the latter was met with the appearance of more crows along the path.

I placed the feather next to my bed, remembered the trees, and fell into a deep slumber.

Soundtrack of the day:

Arstidir – “Nivalis” (album), “All Is Well“, “Meanderings“
Wardruna – “Kvitravn” (album)

Tuesday, 15^th June 2021

I started the day with a Pilates abdominal workout on the carpet, ate yummy leftovers from yesterday for breakfast, took in the view from the balcony, and then car & driver got back on the road. Nine hours of driving (with breaks) across Germany were upon us. It felt good to have a clear destination and a clear path towards it. Grounded determination. No desire for meanderings today.

Of course the universe lovingly injects the right obstacles. How could I not love it? In Rohnetal the car and I performed my first ever fully autonomous oil refill. After double-checking the manual, I found the right lubricant for this precious engine that has been running smoothly for almost 300,000 km. The tricky part was to find the mechanism to lift the hood, elegantly hidden in the Audi logo. The refill itself was easy. After 42 years, I am thus no longer a virgin when it comes to motor oil.

Listening to my friend Erwin’s albums “Leb’n“, “Anaseits” and “Host schon gheat?” proved to be just the right soundtrack for this road trip. I smiled as the highway signs started showing “Hamburg”. Still two hours to go. At the next service area, I contemplated putting up a hammock between the trees. Yet instead, I lost my precious cool white hat – the one I got from my dear friend Dav in Arizona in early March 2020 when people were still flying.

Driving into the sunset again, I finally arrived at my destination in Groß Nordende, located about 30-40 minutes to the northwest of Hamburg. For me it was, and still is, the most gorgeous Airbnb place ever. Spacious, bright, beautiful. Two bathrooms, two bedrooms, cozy chairs and couches, a sweet little balcony. Birdsong all day, stillness at night. The best bed I’ve slept in for years!

How lovely would it be to share this place … and yet I knew my need for solitude, for now. Visitors were going to come soon enough: three days later Annika was going to stay for a night, and the rest would reveal itself.

The sea is calling me. Soon I will respond.

Soundtrack of the day:

Robin Wall Kimmerer – “Braiding Sweetgrass” (audiobook)

The Kinks – “You Really Got Me“
Erwin R. – “Leb’n” (album), “Anaseits” (album), “Host schon gheat?” (album)
Arstidir – “Hvel” (album), “Nivalis” (album)

Monday, 14^th June 2021

Part 1: Finding Stillness

Drowsily stretching in bed and checking my phone in the morning, I saw a caterpillar crawling towards the laptop. I looked away and back again: the tiny creature was gone without a trace. Surely you didn’t crawl through the ventilation slots, little one, did you?

After breakfast I visited Christoph and became best buddies with his adorable dog Tinkerbell. I asked if he had tools. Yes, Christoph has tools. He has all the tiny tools you need to open an old MacBook Pro Mid 2009, still alive and kickin’. I took off the ground plate, and there it was: the little caterpillar was resting comfortably on the SSD! Deciding that a laptop is not a good place for a caterpillar, I set it free. (Did I, though? Perhaps it was destined for metamorphosis there? My friend Niko later asked, “Maybe it actually wanted to join you on your travel?”)

Christoph interviewed me for his podcast “Zukunftsweberei“, soon to be launched. It was my first time on a podcast, and I really enjoyed it. He asked excellent questions. I talked a lot, shared stories and thoughts, described my journey through physics, my time at CERN, the big changes in 2012, the transition towards Contemplative Science, and eventually the Mindful Researchers initiative. I was completely in my element. And then …

… I remembered stillness.

I cannot recall the details; perhaps it was triggered by sharing stories about my blessed encounters with Brother David Steindl-Rast in 2018 and 2019, perhaps it was amplified by Christoph’s presence. Yet as I remembered stillness, I too became still. The energy in our room shifted. We were suddenly finding ourselves in an intimate encounter with the Mystery. Ordinary ideas and “knowing” went to the background. What we exchanged from there onwards came from a different place, a different “knowing” that dwells behind the mirror of not-knowing.

Christoph, Tinkerbell and I bade each other farewell, and I returned for lunch with my aunt, my cousin Mareike and her son Julian, my nephew. I delighted in hearing about Mareike’s upcoming ventures with the Pioneers of Change and other ripening visions. Julian defeated me 10:7 in a fun garden soccer match. Then it was time to saddle my steelhorse and ride into the Northwest; 4 hours of driving were upon me.

Part 2: Crossing Borders

---

WHERE is the land of Luthany,
Where is the tract of Elenore?
I am bound therefor.

from “The Mistress of Vision” by Francis Thompson

---

A good hour into Bavaria, the highway customs police asked me to pull over, and we exited at the next parking opportunity. Two cops approached my door. I donned my mask, lowered the window, and we exchanged formal courtesies. I handed over my passport and papers.

“Are you nervous?”, the more talkative cop asked.

“Not too much. Why, are my hands shaking?” I looked at my hands.

“Yes indeed, sir. Have you ever taken drugs? Like cannabis?”

I thought for a moment. “It’s been a while … 2015, I think. Am I in trouble now?”

I’m sure the man grinned underneath his mask. “Not yet. Do you carry any weapons, drugs, or illegal substances with you now?”

“Of course not. Would you like to check the car?”

They wanted. I assisted where I could. The talkative cop had to go through ALL THE THINGS in the trunk. Meanwhile his colleague searched the front of my car, and I didn’t even notice. I kinda enjoyed speculating aloud about what might make a good secret cache, and empathetically denied the talkative cop’s speculation that a small flask filled with massage oil might contain k.o.-drops. That man did have humour!

“That instrument is hollow”, I said when he knocked on the uncovered RAV Vast and elicited some sounds. “It would actually make for an excellent cache, too!”

“How do you get all these ideas, sir?”, he asked. “Now you’re making me sooo curious.”

“I just have a vivid imagination”, I laughed. Perhaps I should offer my services to criminal investigation. If they ever need someone to give them ideas for how criminals might think, I’m a near inexhaustible source of creativity. On the other hand, I’d be a poor criminal myself, as the next minutes would reveal.

---

Pierce thy heart to find the key;
With thee take
Only what none else would keep …

from “The Mistress of Vision” by Francis Thompson

---

The talkative cop sent me to his colleage who asked me to empty my pockets on the engine hood. All fine. As I went back, the talkative cop held up a little flask. “And what’s this?”

“Oh! The CBD oil. I didn’t even remember packing it. But that’s not psychoactive, hence legal.” Cricket chirp. “Right?” Uncomfortable moments of silence. “Or is it illegal in Germany?”

“Here, read this.”

I confidently obliged. “THC <0.2%. Yes, but that’s far below being psychoactive. You’d have to swallow like a liter of that stuff.”

I still didn’t see the problem, until he politely informed me that in Bavaria even the possession of such minimal amounts of THC was illegal. My feelings of unease increased.

Fortunately, the cops decided to let me pass and went on with their patrol. Perhaps my “case” would have meant tons of paperwork for actually nothing, and some other big fish out there was awaiting their dutiful inspection. With a sigh and a chuckle, I tossed the flask into a bin. Surprises on every corner! And a welcome break from the long drive.

Riding into a gorgeous sunset, I arrived in Windischeschenbach and checked into my Airbnb for that night. It wouldn’t take all too long until Morpheus embraced me under the watchful gaze of a plush stag.

Soundtrack of the Day

• Robin Wall Kimmerer – “Braiding Sweetgrass” (audiobook)
• Nightwish – “Human. :||: Nature.” (album)
• Haggard – “Awaking the Centuries” (album)

Sunday, 13^th June 2021

After a semi-sleepless night, my pounding heart heralded the rising awareness that my “second real journey” was finally beginning today, on Sunday, 13^th June 2021. Given the luxury of a spacious trunk, I prepared to pack ALL THE THINGS: guitar, RAV Vast (a hangdrum-like instrument), a year’s supply of books, about 20 favorite shirts, the first three of my “spiritual journals” (the first I started on 14^th June 2005, the third was completed in December 2012), meditation bowl, sitting cushions, incense sticks, pumpkin seed oil, … and lots of small stuff – perhaps a tiny bit too much. (We’ll get back to this on Day 2.)

My brother and I transported herbs and flowers from my balcony to his place. We talked about family matters and I told him about a recent liberating breakthrough. I remembered that our relationship too had transformed way back in May 2005 in the cleansing fire of a fierce clash and the healing balm of our reconciliation. We hugged each other farewell, and I went on my way with his car, a token of love and trust.

(It strikes me as quite extraordinary how the years 2005, 2012 and 2021 keep popping up as siblings and chronological protagonists in this journey. These are the years of most significant transitions in my life, with the current one – the youngest of the three siblings – still unfolding. Like humans, these years ripen over time and progress through stages of maturity with each birth of a new sibling: for instance, 2005, 2012 and I are now developing and enacting a new kind of relationship together.)

Back home I played Tetris 3D by stuffing ALL THE THINGS in the trunk and on the back seat, then took a picture for one of my extremely rare Facebook posts. Once upon a time, I had planned on journal-blogging about my “first real journey” in October 2012. But some things had kept me from it, among them a hesitation about being seen – a kind of social anxiety that today feels all but gone.

Changes … and growth.

My first destination was Sulz im Wienerwald, where incidentally my cousin Michael was busy renovating my late uncle’s house that they had inherited. He greeted me in a dark blue work overall, artfully embroidered with the words “Lord Bughunter” aptly praising his formerly embodied expertise. It’s been a long time since we’ve last hugged. It felt good.

I took my RAV Vast to the nearby cemetery to improvise some melodies for my beloved uncle. How he would love to see me embark on this journey! The tomb looked different now, more alive. I brushed dark soil from two faux-grass-covered rabbits that had been toppled over by a storm and put them back into position. Clearly the old man still has humor, reflected by the myriad creative artefacts that we mortals are compelled to gather in this ceremonial place, paying homage to the multifaceted human beingness, not only his, but ours too.

I stretched out on the patch of grass next to my uncle’s grave and gazed at the trees above, remembering my time in Sulz with him in Summer 2005, just three months after my first and irrevocable “spiritual heart awakening”. He was one of my first companions with whom I was able to talk quite unrestrained about my budding spirituality. In fact our conversations had already been a source of inspiration for years. What a precious gift! Some people have a hard time understanding how this unabashedly hedonic and sometimes hot-tempered man could also be a dedicated Buddhist practitioner and an eclectic spiritual seeker. My uncle had always defied narrow categories. I believe we have that in common.

Back at the house (read: construction site) my cousin led me through the garden, once fully untamed, now partly shaped by a grass-covered oasis of active gardening amidst the wilderness, all watched over by old Buddha peacefully abiding in the very center. Then we walked through the old house, from cellar to attic, and I inhaled the familiar olfactory uniqueness that had always defined that place for me; knowing that I was seeing and smelling it as such for the last time.

The tiny room in the attic where we, the “BMW” gang (Bernhard, Michael, Wolfgang), had slept as teenagers, was clearly my highlight of this tour through old “Villa Sonnenschein”. Ancient memories were instantly rekindled. I enthusiastically shared with Michael where my bed had been and what significant discoveries I had made there some thirty years ago.

It was good to speak with Michael, a dedicated husband and father of two who helps rebuild a house for his family. Sensing the arc from childhood to adulthood, I can’t help but feel content and proud for us.

I continued my journey to St.Pölten, driving into the sunset as I would be doing for the next couple of days. My aunt greeted me with a warm dinner, and we talked more than ever, until veteran Major Fatigue and decorated General Exhaustion commanded us both to retreat to our beds. I checked my phone and found that myriad likes, hearts, and text responses to my Facebook posting were pouring in. Old friends from all over the world were wishing me a blessed journey and safe travels, including both my head teachers from the secondary school days – one of them long retired for more than 25 years. Whoa!

The beautiful “unintended consequence” of my posting was now unfolding as an integration of memories and connections that I had made throughout this lifetime. Old colleagues from CERN, new colleagues and friends from the Contemplative Science / Mind & Life / Mind & Life Europe communities, former housemates, classmates, head teachers, Elders, Council trainers and carriers, muses, musicians, artists, writers, extended family, Salsa dancers, people I’ve met at concerts by Anneke van Giersbergen, friends from old and new online & hybrid communities, friends from the European Forum Alpbach, Commodore Amiga computer geeks, men with whom I’ve shared initiatory journeys and sweat lodges, travelers, activists, chess players, researchers I’ve met on my “first real journey” in 2012, meditators, mystics, and more. I’m sure I’ve missed a few categories, but I hope I can weave you all into my story nonetheless. You are already part of this journey as you are part of my life.

Just scrolling through this highly eclectic list of wonderful humans makes me feel tremendously integrated – not stretched apart, as it used to – and very happy. I am blessed by generous offers to visit friends in Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands. I’ve never been to Denmark before, maybe this is the time?

Soundtrack of the Day

• Robin Wall Kimmerer – “Braiding Sweetgrass” (audiobook)

Let me pause here: this audiobook, narrated by the author herself, is among the best I’ve ever listened to. The chapter about “The Honorable Harvest” is forever changing my life.

Also, various songs from these albums:

• Marko Hietala – “Pyre of the Black Heart” (album)
• Haggard – “And Thou Shalt Trust… the Seer” (album)
• Estampie – “Ondas” (album)

At the entrance to the cedar’s grove, the old tree pushed me backwards and knocked me over from the distance.

Surrender.

I paused in awe. Tears filled my eyes. I slowly surrendered. An eternity passed. I accepted that this was not my time to enter, that I had been too hasty and too preoccupied with my own thoughts and projections, that I hadn’t been listening to her. In this very moment she invited me to come closer.

Listen.

My eyes beheld a golden leaf before me, reflecting the sunlight. I felt my body rise and walk, yet it was not I who rose and walked. I slowly followed the golden light into the grove, inwardly reciting the ancient poem “The Mistress of Vision“. Half way towards her, I waited and listened to the mosquitoes humming “no, no, no” until their song changed.

Ask.

I asked to approach her. Will you allow me to receive you? I came closer. She accepted in silence. I sank to the ground before her, filled with awe.

Rise. Feel your roots.

I rose up to stand tall before her, stretching out my hands to become a tree like her. My feet were rooted firmly, yet gently, on the ground.

Rise up, stand tall. If you do not rise, I will fall.

I wept. What can I, a single human, possibly do to change this course? I wept for her, for all of her kind, for all of our kind … for all beings.

Speak. You must speak up.

I promised her, in some kind of language that I could not understand. Enthralled by the mosquitoes not biting me, not even attempting to, she taught me again to ask. I asked the mosquitoes to refrain from sucking my blood unless their lives depended on it, for then I would willingly give it to them. They spared me, humming. I knelt down again.

Enter me. Come inside me.

I closed my eyes, weeping again in gratitude – how much you trust me! – me, a man who was only learning how to listen, and yet a man who was willing to surrender to just that. I dared not enter her fully, yet I sensed a budding glimpse of our spiritual union.

Feel me.

I reached out my hands, very slowly, listening to who it really was that spoke. Trusting, I placed one hand on her leg, or was it her hand? I touched her. I gently placed my other hand on her. I feel you! I was learning how to feel her. You are alive!

Remember. Remember my brothers and sisters.

I rose up and looked around me. With new eyes I saw their sentience, I saw her brothers and sisters whom she was lending her voice. Yes, I will speak up for you all. I will honor you. I felt complete and began to leave.

Remember.

I stumbled and fell backwards again. She wasn’t done with me yet.

Remember my brothers and sisters. You are among them, too.

I saw a yellow leaf resting on the trunk of a tree before me. Are you mine to pick up? I asked permission. I held the leaf up high, and suddenly three other leaves were falling around me. Clearly, the one that landed before my feet was mine to bring back. I carefully placed that first one back on its trunk and picked up mine. Finally I left the grove, focusing on my steps, filled with a knowing that I did not need to look back.

Don’t look back, remember. Remember us.

— based on a journal entry on Monday, 22nd June 2019 @ Seattle, Washington, USA.