Sit down. Do you feel the warmth?

Make yourself comfortable and listen to this story...

There are just those days when everything goes to shit. When everything pisses you off. Perfectly. Systematically. That day, a firefighter spent an hour and a half getting intimate with George, and in the end, George still didn't put out. That day, everything a tester touched just fell apart. And the question hangs in the air – could another pair of tester hands, perhaps a woman’s, change the course of this cosmic catastrophe?

When a day like this hits rock bottom, it’s time for some movement medicine.

First step. Second step. The body finds its rhythm.

Bass resonates through the space, and something deep inside awakens. The inner universe begins to dance in harmony with the outer one. Courage grows with every beat.

Dancing in pairs. Sometimes bold, more often hesitant, but always with an inner longing to explore something new. That was the first dance with the tester.

And suddenly – birth.

A little lion cub enters the world. It opens its eyes in this strange realm full of lights and sounds. Its first thought isn't about fear or survival. It’s about a gift. More than anything, it wants to offer its heart to the world out there. A heart that was beating fully, ready to explore. It was an infinitely beautiful feeling. To feel and perceive the birth of another being, another species.

We lay beside each other.
"I saw a lion cub," I tell her.
Her eyes, filled with both uncertainty and interest, meet mine for a moment.
"I have fear inside me," she admits.

Is she a lion cub, too? A creature that wants to explore but still wavers on the edge of the known?

I wanted to touch her. Just because. Lightly, like one being touching another with the feeling that they understand each other. We embraced.

A day that began with the world collapsing ends with the harmony of two tester souls.
Brief. Fragile. But real.

Nights like these exist, too. And for that, I am grateful.

The moral of the story

In the depths of every soul, a little lion cub is constantly being born.

Sometimes we ignore it. We silence its growl when it tries to speak.

"Not now," we tell it. "It’s not the right time..."

But the lion cub is patient. It waits.

And when those rare moments come – times when old skins shed and new ones grow, when our hearts beat stronger than our fear – that is when the lion cub stands up.

That is when we become brave explorers of our own lives. That is when we dare to dance, even when we don't know the steps. That is when we dare to touch, even when we don't know if the touch will be returned. That is when we dare to be vulnerable.

And perhaps that is the greatest adventure of all – when the lion cub, with its head held high and an uncertain step, walks forward and keeps its heart open.

Because every one of us is that lion cub. And the world is waiting.

Sprav si pohodlie a počúvaj tento príbeh...

Ponaučenie z príbehu

O povahe Múzy
Múza nie je cieľová stanica a už vôbec nie niekto, koho musíš vlastniť, aby si prežil. Je to blesk. Nehľadaj v nej partnerku, kamarátku ani istotu – hľadaj v nej ten elektrický výboj, ktorý ťa prinútil vstať a rozobrať starú skriňu. To, čo s ňou máš urobiť, je prosté: premeniť tú šialenú energiu na niečo hmatateľné.

Múza tu nie je na to, aby s tebou zostala, ale aby ťa vyprovokovala k činu. Ak vďaka nej vzniklo niečo nové, jej úloha je splnená. V každom tvojom výrobku už bude navždy kúsok jej chaosu a tvojho poriadku.

A to stačí.

Ďakujem, že si v sebe mala kľúč k mojej zamknutej komnate.

O prebudení
Niekedy musíš prejsť pol sveta, prezliecť sa za lepráčka a dať niekomu obyčajné jablko, aby si pochopil, že ti doma chýba stôl. Ponaučenie z Akkonu je o prepojení svetov. Myšlienka bez iskry je len prach, ale iskra bez miesta, kde môže horieť, je len krátky záblesk. Potrebuješ oboje: inšpiráciu, ktorá ťa prefacká, a dláto, ktorým tú facku vytesáš do dreva. Najkrajší darček nie je to, čo nájdeš pod stromčekom, ale to momentálne zatmenie mysle, keď buchneš pestičkou do stolu a povieš si: "Dosť bolo prázdna!" Od tej chvíle už nikdy netvoríš sám.

Make yourself comfortable and listen to this story...

I wanted to know dance. The kind I felt inside but couldn’t express or understand. A club? Fine. Ballroom, Latino, street dance? I get it; people find themselves there. I enjoy it too, but I often missed the flow.

Why do so few people dance freely, wildly, emotionally, creatively? Why do I want to dance like that? Was it planted in my soul as a child, when our parents took us to New Year’s Eve dances and we danced exactly like that? Creatively and with love. With a pure child’s heart, without masks, without worries. Why do people dance so little?

Lesson one: if music is playing – dance!

Kristi, at a cacao ceremony, gave me a taste of not just cacao, but a different kind of dance. And that later led me to Austria, to an Ecstatic Dance festival.

You arrive broken after an 8-hour drive and immediately sit in a men’s circle where they ask about your relationship with women. And you realise, when thirty men are absolutely honest, that we are all very fragile. Then you connect with the women’s circle, and tears well up in your eyes as you discover the pain some women endure because of men. You feel a deep sorrow realising many have walked through complex relationships, beatings, rape – even rape by their own parents. It hurts to find that every single one has experienced inappropriate behaviour, a look, or harassment from a man. You felt ashamed for men before, in bars and clubs, seeing those drunk pigs eyeing women like pieces of meat. And if it stayed at just looking, that was the better case. Now you feel even more shame. But now you know that even those lewd glances can wound a woman more than you think. And you also know that they are all goddesses.

Then came improvised contact dance. Kika, the dancer I shared my first attempt at this style with, was amazing. I couldn't have asked for a better guide… Fun fact: after two hours of this dance, hairy female legs stopped seeming unusual to me. Fun fact 2: I no longer needed a massage; the pain in my neck and shoulders was gone after this Herculean effort. And what is impro contact dance? Go and try…

That evening, I had my first Ecstatic Dance. By the way, the whole festival was a safe zone. No alcohol, no drugs. No sexual undertones. And the dance? A wooden floor, bare feet, no flashing lights or strobes, no smoke effects. Just you, the music, and the dance. And no words. If you want to speak to someone on the floor, say it through dance. Words are for outside the hall.

---

You know that feeling? The music starts, you want to dance, but the floor is empty. You don't want to be the first because everyone is watching. And God forbid you go there alone. You wouldn't even think of it, because it's just not done here. So, try Ecstatic Dance. And you know what you’ll do next time? You’ll be the first on that floor. Because dance is a blessing. It is inspiration. You will be the first and you will inspire others to join. Not just to join, but to be inspired by your movements. Dance and inspire.

That night I also discovered that:

• a great musician can make you dance even to a Hare Krishna mantra.
• bathing in a pool with others completely naked is actually natural
• dancing 8 hours a day, topped with yoga, swimming and deep discussions, is possible – and you’ll have a ton of energy the next day
• dancing a Sufi clan dance, spinning at high speed for twenty minutes without stopping – is possible! It is ecstatic, fantastically unusual to be the eye of the hurricane within your own body.

The evening taught me that you can cry while dancing, and that dance as a prelude to meditation is a brutal combination that shows you the way deep into yourself and your visions.

---

The next morning, the Five Rhythms dance showed me that a human can truly produce DMT, their own psychedelic, in the brain. They say you can get high on your own supply without psychedelics or ecstasy. You can. God bless you.

A 72-year-old woman arrived.

She looked like your grandmother.

She stepped behind the mixing desk and began something I will carry within me for the rest of my life.

Forty people on the floor – the exact forty who were meant to be there that day. The first 30 minutes were classic ecstatic dance. But what do I know? It was my first time, yesterday. I didn't know how to fully let go and release the animal within. The emotions, fears and joys. We danced, looked into each other’s eyes, perceived one another. We perceived the space. We got to know the space, our own souls, and occasionally caught a glimpse of someone else’s soul.

And then – boom. I found myself in a small circle, drumming my fist on the floor. Others encouraged me, joined in, and started stomping their feet. Everyone joined. The rhythmic stomp on the wooden floor echoed through the space in time with the music. We all held onto each other, and that’s when we vanished. We were no longer individuals. We were one organism. One world, one love, one heart, one tribe, one family. Perfect flow. Together in the circle, we danced out all our pains, joys, sorrows, failures, loves, past and future lives. Holding hands, someone always went into the centre, their soul dancing freely as it felt. And that goddess behind the mixing desk was part of us. She knew what we needed, just as we knew what she needed. Applause, stomping, a Huron roar as a celebration of the goddess, tears, embraces.

And then, a slow down. The fifth rhythm. Meditation. The end of the dance and the start of a sharing circle. We sat down, moved by the moment, knowing we were part of something extraordinary, we held hands and everyone shared their feelings… pure love, playfulness, flow, excitement, ecstatic, God was the DJ! Goddess was the DJ. We don’t need religion, we have dance. Dance is our religion. We don’t want to leave. Laughter. Play one more set. Laughter. How can we leave now? Where are we supposed to go? What will happen to us now? There is a world out there. But we don’t want it. We sat in silence for a while. Then we slowly drifted apart. When I left the floor, I walked on a different earth, in a different world…

---

For three days, I perceived dance. Mine and others'. I perceived the movement around me. In perfect harmony with the other dancers, we danced for hours and hours. Mornings, days and nights. We were one. One of our 25+ senses expanded. The body learned to perfectly perceive the movements of the organisms around me. In three days, it adapted because it was necessary. To avoid colliding on the floor, to function like perfect magnets. But then you go home, get in the car and drive for two hours – through Bratislava, on the highway… and you don’t expect it. But you immediately notice something is different. You are part of the traffic. You perceive other drivers and cars in perfect harmony. You see the rhythm in it; you adapt perfectly. You are all the cars in front of you, behind you, those that passed five minutes ago, and those that will pass in twenty.

You get home, go for a walk in the park, and something is different again. You are perfectly grounded. You feel immense stability, as if you had roots. You are a walking tree. In the square there’s a concert with 200 people, and you perceive them. You know how they move, where they are going; you feel them changing direction and approaching you. All the dogs look you in the eyes. Rémus runs to you and jumps into your arms. An orchestra plays modern music in the square. You dance. Decently. You’d love to dance ecstatically like you did four hours ago, but you go decently because you’re home now and it would look weird. You’re not quite there yet – to release your soul and ignore the 200 motionless people in the square. But even so, you inspire. You move, someone looks at you and starts nodding their head, and you know they’ve started dancing, at least in their heart. You inspired.

How is it possible? You dance almost nonstop for three days. Impro contact dance is physically demanding, so is ecstatic dance, yoga and so on… you haven't slept more than 3–4 hours a night, and even that was in the car. So how is it possible you have so much energy – not just for yourself, but for the whole city! For the orchestra in the square, for all 200 people there, for every dog in town, for every tree in the park. And you want to give that energy away. This is how music, dance and community can recharge you? This is what love and cooperation can do? This is what tolerance and awareness can do? If so, then humanity has a massive, unfulfilled potential. A potential to do good, to care for all living things, to create.

How can there be so much energy in you? Boundaries were crossed many times over. Boundaries created by your mind. But today, those boundaries were destroyed. What will tomorrow bring?

The moral of the story

Women are goddesses. This world belongs to them. They bring life. We owe our lives to them. They create. Let us cast aside fear and let them create. Let us dance with life. Let us make love with life. Give love. Love is the answer. God is a DJ. God is in every one of us. We are gods. We are goddesses. We are all one. And we all carry that unity within us.

Imagine a place where you arrive and feel peace everywhere. Everyone greets you or smiles as they pass. You can leave your things, your phone, anything, anywhere, because no one will take anything. No alcohol or cigarettes are sold. And there is no need for them. You don’t miss them. You have water, tea and cacao. Food is cooked with love, simple, beautiful, and you know exactly what’s in it. People are kind, free, and yet together they form one family. A place where peace reigns. Peace in you, peace in others. You are surprised to find yourself in such a place. And you start asking yourself why the world out there isn’t like this. Why don’t I feel like this in the town where I live? You wonder where it went wrong. But you see the immense potential humanity has when love and cooperation prevail. When male and female energy unite and begin to create together. And you want to bring a piece of this place home with you. And it can be done. Bring it. If you want to move the world, first move yourself. Start the movement. Inspire.

Make yourself comfortable and listen to this story...

Do you want a total reset of your body, soul and heart? Go to a LARP. In three days, you will experience life situations and emotions that you haven’t encountered in thirty years of your life. It’s a brutal assault on your psyche and your very self. You find yourself in the Middle Ages – no technology, no hot water, no clean underwear, no you. It tears you apart from the inside; all your habitual decision-making patterns are laid bare without the bullshit, and then the Middle Ages tears those apart too. Your body and mind start to believe that everything around you is real. That the girl they just killed in front of your eyes is your little sister. And you cry. That the sick woman in the bed is your mother. And you cry again. You realise you’ve betrayed your parents' trust by stealing a mountain of money. And you cry once more. What reality were we in? Is time truly relative? Do I marry this woman because it’s the sensible thing to do, because the family wants it, and raise a child that isn't mine? Or do I run away with that Muslim girl, in whose eyes I’ve already lost my entire life? Try falling asleep at night when you can’t stop thinking about the choice you have to make. You don’t want to choose, so you cry again. And then you see the one with the child marrying someone else, not you. And you’re actually glad, because he truly loves her. But didn't you love her too? And then your brown-eyed Muslim girl smiles one last time and sails away without you to the other side of the world. Did you really just live through the love of your life, a breakup and a final parting in 24 hours?

My last three days in this rotten fortress were the most emotional experience of my life. To hell with the lying kings and nobles and Templars and Jesuits – and to hell with the 50,000-strong Mamluk army outside the walls that wants to kill us. My attitude? Kill them with kindness!

But I found a family here. Armenian. I found lifelong friends here. Greeks. Vahan, Arsiné, Janna, Tamara, Alexander, Hypoitos, Daphne, Phoebe… and Greta! Greta and those mysterious green eyes of hers! What were they actually saying all that time? And her mother Lydia, with red hair reaching all the way down!

And Dawíja! Her and those big, deep, brown Arabic eyes. The whole time they were pulling me in, somewhere into another space-time. I gave her Paris’s apple of discord, and she gave me the first touch of our fingertips. I gave her a tiger’s eye, and she gave me the most beautiful smile in the Holy Land. I gave her a nightingale’s song, my heart and the earth... and she gave me hope.

And what about that paramedic doctor! I looked into her beautiful blue eyes and the only thing I could think of was youth and life. We talked the whole way. The road from the castle was so wrecked that the driver couldn't go any faster than a crawl. Thank God and Allah for that! There was even some romance during the ride. She asked me how many fingers I saw. She held up four! Not bad, I thought. At the infirmary, she hugged me! The paramedic hugged me! As Phoebe later correctly pointed out, that’s not nothing, that’s a proper achievement! Ticked off the bucket list, ticked off the list of things I must accomplish in life. It was my first time in an ambulance too. Ticked off, and once was enough.

And what about the violent murder of my Armenian parents that I witnessed with my own eyes? Was it just imagination?

Can a person experience all this in normal life in three days? Even the Holy Trinity won't help you here. The situation was best summed up by a knight sitting on the latrine, whom I heard mutter mid-action: “Jesus, Mary… bloody hell!”

And after all that… when you don’t fall in the battle for the castle, when you aren't violently murdered by someone from the royal court, when you survive three great loves, disillusions and massive life disappointments… after all that, you simply and stupidly smash your head against a door frame and you’re back in the 21st century.

What the fuck just happened?

Valletta, Malta, year 129*

Tigran sat by the window in his tea house. He sat and listened to one of Phoebe’s stories. When the story ended and the applause died down, everyone begged Phoebe to keep telling… even Ophelie and her fiancé wanted to hear one more tale! But he just sat there, staring out of the window. He looked at the beautiful white beaches, the beautiful blue sea and the huge harbour of Valletta. He couldn't see far enough to see Genoa, but he knew his Sunshine was there together with Tamara. He knew they were thinking of him too, and he was already looking forward to visiting them in a few days, when the whole family would meet there.

Phoebe began another tale, but he was no longer listening. He just sat there, remembering his own story, the one written by life itself in that cursed Akkon in the year 1291.

He just sat there, looking at the wide sea, searching for Dawíja in his memories. The thought warmed him. A hint of a smile appeared on his face. And life flowed on…

The moral of the story

The greatest war was never fought outside the walls of Akkon. The toughest battles were the ones we fought in silence, when we had to choose between what others wanted from us and what our own self was screaming inside. You can take a thousand sword wounds, but nothing hurts like watching a ship sail away, knowing you didn't have the courage to jump into the water. The lesson from Akkon is simple: make your choice before the Middle Ages or reality force you to cry over what you didn't do. An achievement isn't an ambulance ride; it’s the courage to live your story to the fullest. The only thing that matters is what kept burning inside you after the last torches went out.

Make yourself comfortable and listen to this story...

The She-Bear, Drums and Rock & Roll – Day One

It’s a frosty January Saturday morning and I’m setting off into the forest, up the hill to my grandad’s. The weekend is coming and down in the village a crowd of tourists is already milling about. At the main station, in the middle of the tracks, I meet another unmistakable tourist, focusing her camera, hoping to snap our newly unrenovated station before the tram comes. In the forest there is finally peace; in winter only a few tourists dare to come here, and nobody goes up to grandad’s in this (un)season any more. About halfway up, two huge oaks appeared in front of me, fallen side by side right across the forest path. I got over the first one like a deer, but as I sat astride the second, I was caught by the view of the open countryside and the sunrise, which in the distance was preparing a beautiful morning performance, accompanied by birdsong from far and wide. I stayed sitting, closed my eyes, let the warm rays of the new day fall on my face and listened to the gorgeous tones of the birds’ ballad. I had no idea yet that this gentle melody would soon be replaced by the mighty thunder of drums, and that the next two days would turn into a proper rock and roll of my heart.

Behind me I heard a rustle. A blackbird or a woodpecker, I thought, playing in the leaves. The rustle grew into heavy stomping, and at that moment I made peace with my fate. I knew there was no point opening my eyes, and I intended to enjoy the last moments of my bare life with the sunshine on my face. The bloody massacre that my encounter with the bear was about to bring – a bear who had chosen the same path as me on this cold morning – I simply put out of my mind.

The stomping stopped not far from me, and I told myself I would at least wish this majestic creature a good morning, and maybe try to explain that I weigh only 61 kilos and that gnawing on bones without meat is really no fun for such a big animal. I opened my eyes, looked at the she-bear standing there, and understood what an ill fate had befallen me. It wasn’t my body that was going to be torn apart here, but my view of the world!

She didn’t eat me right away. Maybe my looks put her off. I was going to grandad’s in the forest, so that morning I had thrown on old joggers, a sweaty T-shirt, a muddy windbreaker, and I had last shaved about two weeks ago. Her first growl was full of innocence and kindness. In her eyes I saw that she needed help. So I helped her over the two big snow-covered oaks so she could continue on her way. Where does her path lead? Can I join her?

I followed her in silence. She left the path and, with a brave heart, headed off-trail straight up to the highest hill, where my grandad lives. She made it to the top without any trouble. I somehow crawled up there, scolding myself for running around the snowy hills of our valley without water, without a phone and with a bear at my heels.

I caught up with her at the very top, sitting and gazing at the beautiful scenery that opened up before us. Grandad knew how to pick a place to live with a beautiful view. But he wasn’t there, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he had gone to the forest for wood. Because who knows how he would have reacted if he had seen a she-bear. He always kept his submachine gun close. But come to think of it, he always liked she-bears very much.

She got up and carried on. Where are we going? She headed towards the stag! On the way, the path closed in front of us again and fallen trees blocked our way. Is this majestic creature asking me for help again? Does she want me to lead her across the dangerous rocks and fallen trees? I don’t know who was leading whom. I held on to her. Or was she holding on to me? She gave me the courage to go first, and so together we got through this stretch.

We came to the stag. He stood there as he stands every day. He looks down from the top of the mountain at the town below and waits for his love to return. The she-bear didn’t know the stag. She saw him for the first time. She stroked him. He didn’t move; it wasn’t the love he has been waiting there for since forever. He didn’t move, but something moved inside me. We went on until we came to a cave. Does she want to go in? What does she want to find there? I asked her whether I should go with her, and she nodded. We went in and with hesitant steps walked all the way to the very end. But we found nothing. What were we looking for? Something in the cave, or something in us? We came out and I headed down the hill back to town. Now she followed me. On the way we also met the Lovemaker. An old beech that guards many secrets of the lovers who walk past it. The she-bear didn’t know him, just like the stag. Where is she from? What is she doing in this forest? We walked on. We came to the edge of the forest and the moment of parting arrived. Why did we meet? What were we looking for? I don’t know, but I told her that in the morning I would go to the forest, have breakfast there, and would gladly bring a treat for her too. To my surprise, she agreed.

I set off into town. I didn’t see where she went, and it didn’t even occur to me to follow her. We’ll meet tomorrow morning, I hope…

But life has a sense of humour. And some things you just can’t make up. Although I admit I wasn’t entirely innocent in this. A thought is the greatest power in the world. It is a real force, just like energy, the sun, magnetism and so on. It is a creative force. And when a thought is sent into the universe out of pure love, from a pure heart, and it is true, life processes it and projects it into your world. Sometimes, though, it may not be exactly the way you imagined. It’s like asking a genie to grant you three wishes and he grants them literally, but in his own slightly strange, funny or twisted way.

My thought was small, hidden deep inside and so innocent. I knew I would hopefully meet the she-bear tomorrow at breakfast. But secretly, modestly, I wished to see her today. Just to walk towards each other in the street, maybe smile and maybe even say hello. Nothing more. I just wanted to see her once, for a little while. Then I let it go. But the thought was evidently already living a life of its own.

Someone called me to meet in the park, saying we’d go for cake and coffee. Fine, I said, I’m coming. We walked into the café, it was full, I searched the eyes of the people sitting there for a free seat, but nobody wanted to go out into the frost yet. My gaze rose up to the bar and there she stood! How come she’s here? How come nobody else sees her the way I do? Why do they let her stand there? In her eyes I saw a startled look and a question: What am I doing there? Am I following her? I shyly said hello and fled.

The cold, the frost and the unexpected morning hike with the she-bear had worn me out, and my body felt somehow numb. At a moment like that, the most sensible thing is to throw icy water on hot stones and let all your thoughts evaporate. And so in the evening I was enjoying a relax in the local sauna. After about the third round, my mind was empty and floated freely around with the steam. When the heat went to my head, it was time for the ice pond. And it really was icy that winter! I cooled down and, in all my nakedness, stepped outside just as the she-bear walked past together with an old she-bear! My heart stopped and my first thought was that if she saw me, she would think I was following her again, just as I had read in her eyes at the café. She saw me. What was I supposed to do? Embarrassed, I said: “Good evening, ladies.”

I wrapped a piece of cloth around my hips and followed them, amazed to discover that the she-bear was actually still just a cub! The old she-bear noticed me and was evidently in a cheerful mood. I felt calm, openness and love for her daughter coming from her. She made that clear to me right away with her next growl, which told me beyond any doubt that her child already had a bear partner assigned. But with a gentler growl she added that humans have slowly forgotten how to be in contact with nature and animals, so I could at least be… a friend to my new bear friend. That it surely wouldn’t harm the natural order. And so my new friend and I confirmed tomorrow’s breakfast and each went our own way, even though it had actually been a shared way all day.

And because life has a sense of humour, and so that my unintended stalking would be truly complete, I ran into both she-bears once more in the clearing as I was leaving the sauna. I just saw them off with my eyes and pretended I definitely wasn’t there and definitely wasn’t following them, as they surely suspected.

At night sleep came, but shorter and more restless than on other nights. My thoughts kept wandering somewhere into the forest, to grandad’s, to the stag, into the cave…

The She-Bear and the Castle – Day Two

Sunday morning. A beautiful sunny day and I was cheerfully striding into the forest with a smile on my face. In my pocket I had some forest fruit, jam and nuts. At least that’s what I thought a bear would appreciate for breakfast. And actually I was right, except that, as it turned out later, the she-bear was allergic to nuts, so I ate them myself. We sat down in the forest by an old chapel with a little statue of the Virgin Mary. I hadn’t been to church on a Sunday morning in a long time. The place was as magical as the moment itself. The old statue of the Virgin Mary blessed our food, the stream played us its water melodies, and tall ancient pines watched the story unfolding beneath them. How many stories have they seen over the centuries of their lives? Did they sense what the she-bear was looking for and what role I was to play in it? Trees are wise. They are all connected. They know more than people. They guard us. They guard our land. And they guard all travellers. Just as they guarded us that morning by the chapel.

Old things have a certain magical power. An energy they radiate around them. Like the old castle not far from the chapel, whose faded glory is still waiting for its new inhabitants. Its current inhabitants are only rats, insects and homeless people. And for a short moment in time, we two became its inhabitants, or rather its visitors – the she-bear and me. Something drew her there, just like into that cave yesterday. Will we find something there? I don’t know, but I go first, with courage I found only thanks to my new majestic furry friend. Room after room, floor after floor. Everywhere only cold, mess and stench. And yet a kind of excitement. The excitement of having entered a foreign kingdom, a kingdom of fallen ideals, long forgotten, yet mysterious. And again the familiar question rises. Will we find something in this dubious place from another dimension of time? Something inside? Something in us? In the end we found it outside. Up on the roof of the castle. Well, at least we found something…

A new view of the world we know. We looked from above, from a height, from a place full of energy. We saw the places where we had been, we saw them from a different perspective. Did we also see ourselves, at least for a moment, from a different perspective? What if we had stood there together like this back in 1930? In summer, in swimsuits or maybe naked, taking a sun cure?

Today, too, the time to say goodbye came. But tomorrow there will be no breakfast by the chapel. At the edge of the forest stood the she-bear and I. As if life wanted to emphasise that it was a holy Sunday, it sent us a nun. She suddenly appeared beside us and, to my surprise, noticed the she-bear too. But the situation didn’t bother her at all; with the calm of a Stoic she greeted us with a broad smile and went on her way to carry out her angelic mission for other beings in the forest. Why did she come to us and what did she give us? A strange and spiritual Sunday. I hugged her. The she-bear, not the nun. The nun was already gone. I hugged her briefly, but tightly. Just as I felt it. And she hugged me back with the strength of a bear. Hugs are great! I was sad it lasted so briefly! I needed it. I could have used one more. But the she-bear left for another forest.

But life granted us one more fleeting encounter that day. A little later. Just from afar, I glimpsed her in the distance, crossing a hill. She saw me. She gave me one last smile. Was her heart smiling too? I believe it was.

The moral of the story

It doesn’t matter who we were or who we will be. Let us live in the present. Let us be attentive and open to what life offers us in every moment, and be ready to accept its challenges. Because only then will we taste a new experience. And may our steps always be guided by love. Love for ourselves, love for people, for animals, for nature and love for God. And may the only commandment we need for life be “Love”. Just love, and don’t worry whether your partner has a fur coat or a nut allergy.

Sometimes you have to climb onto the roof of a ruined castle, where there’s only cold, mess and stench, to see your world from a new perspective.

We are just beings who need to hold on to each other while we cross dangerous rocks.