• Softly dancing into the New Year.

    Here it is, the end of 2019. Another year-cycle has come to an end. I try to sense and feel what it has brought me. It is like digging into an earth with so many layers and such a diverse and rich structure, that i cannot define it in a concise way. Of course i cannot. As if Life can be caught in one word or two. It’s been good and it’s been bad. I’ve felt utterly rich and I’ve been miserably poor. There has been dryness and heat, there have been storms and heavy rain. Old dreams have been buried, new plans have sprouted. And in between all that, one…

  • Broken.

    Is it the full moon? Is it my periods? Or are those simply enlargers of something that already is, present in the deepest corners of my being? Today, I feel shattered. Shattered after a big explosion into one million tiny pieces that are now randomly lying all over. Too tiny and too many to ever, ever, be able to put them back together. Or so it feels. At my feet lie all the debris of the choices I’ve made in life, all the consequences of these choices, all that has happened in the last years, and in particular since the Fire. And where i would normally be able to gather…

  • To ask for Help…

    I remember lying in bed the evening i heard our Eco-lodge went up in flames. I remember that instant feeling i had: we need help. We cannot do this alone. I remember my head tolling and spinning, thinking about how i could reach out for people, for our friends and family. It felt like such a natural and instinctive thing to do in times of crisis that it did not even occur to me that for some people, it is not. Big was my surprise, when I shared with my partner my intention to write a letter asking for help, to get anger and resistance in response. He did not…

  • Message in the Ashes.

    I want to start with this prayer. It was lying among the ashes of the burnt Yurt. Just that burnt piece of paper from a magazine amidst the chaos of destruction. My eyes were instantly drawn to the image of Maria. In that moment, my first steps in the chaos after the fire, the confrontation with the irrevocable reality of destruction, Maria’s image emanated a strangely comforting energy, like a mother telling her daughter: “it’s gonna be all right, Claire….It’s all gonna be all right.” When i read the prayer, or what was left of it, I could no longer deny that really, this could not be coincidence. The words,…