A walk in the city. A coffee in hand. Looking around slowly. Almost invisible, with a magic hood, barely two...
During my Easter visit to Potsdam, I met I., a young mother and sales manager from Odesa in Ukraine. Her...
Can an image move? Or is not an image precisely that which only appears at the very end, as a kind of condensation of its movement? Condensation would then mean it is moving ever more slowly towards a final standstill.…This article is reserved for subscribers. Sign in with My Goetheanum to...
I recently stood with some friends in front of a painting by Lucas Cranach at Friedenstein Castle in Gotha, Germany....
We are cloud gazers and want to remain so forever. There is no more heavenly image of the glory of...
Sometimes, everyday life is better than secluded meditation to get to the bottom of one’s own soul. When we talk about thinking, feeling, and willing, I see a dance—I think of my soul as something that manifests and expresses itself…This article is reserved for subscribers. Sign in with My Goetheanum to...
The Protestant aid organization Bread for the World published the Atlas of Civil Society last week. The book documents in...
Jean appears, hand outstretched and a shining hat of light on his head—a special hat that perhaps only I can...
Unexpectedly, twilight filled the room. “What do you want?” I asked. “Care, attention. Simply look.” I did. For three months, I gazed into the night, felt its impenetrability, sensed its pull and rejection, stared into the somberness. Saw nothing but…This article is reserved for subscribers. Sign in with My Goetheanum to...
The days are turbulent. My thoughts are restless and peaceless. Agitated, they’re like birds of prey, circling incessantly around the...
Intimacy is within and without. In the aridity and solitude of the desert, I am thrown back on myself, while...
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