In life, there are events we don’t immediately understand. They point to something beyond our waking consciousness. We encounter a part of ourselves that speaks of greater connections and opens us to a larger view.
In my early twenties, I lived with three questions: Where do I come from? Who am I? Where am I going? I had no answers. There was no one in my surroundings with whom I could discuss these questions. The questions became a need, drawing me out farther and farther. By way of a newspaper ad, I found myself traveling to India. I knew immediately that I wanted to go, borrowed 2,000 Marks for the flight, and planned my two-month stay. On a cold day in February—with my hair cut very short—I set off on my journey. Like many seekers at the time, my destination was Goa.
The sea, the beach, the warmth, and the light were waiting for me—magnificent beauty. I stayed in a simple beach hut and met other people from Europe. Once, I walked for hours on the beach to some faraway place with a world traveler from Austria. We had no water, and my thirst soon became unbearable. My companion encouraged me to persevere, saying that the journey and the destination were more important than quenching my thirst. That resonated with me. We made it. I was also able to talk with him about the existential questions that had prompted me to set out on my journey. The questions became clearer and at the same time greater and more pressing.
Day after day passed. Still, I had the feeling that something I didn’t yet know was waiting to reveal itself, something lay just beneath the surface, and I wanted to experience it. Shortly before my return journey, something completely unexpected happened. Early in the morning on a day in April, I was walking along the endless beach, feeling lost, inwardly and outwardly. Then I heard a soundless but clear voice. It called me to myself: Come to me, trust me! The voice was like a mighty pull. An abyss opened up. It was like the voice of death calling me. I felt afraid to follow it. The fear grew immeasurably, as did my concern that I would lose my clear consciousness. Three things I carried with me gave me a shred of physical security: ID, money, and keys. But I felt exposed and helpless. The inner struggle continued and intensified. Eventually, I felt my strength waning—so much that I was ready to give up. I let myself sink to the ground and wanted to die. At that moment, my inner self detached from my body. In a type of vision unknown to me, I rose high into the sky, so high that I could see the Earth as a sphere from above. Like a bolt of lightning, I became conscious that dying would not free me from the Earth or from myself; no, I would be reborn and would have to continue my life at another point in time. I knew this, without ever having heard it before: my ‘I’ would never die; it is immortal.
This inward vision gave me new strength. I was able to get up and walk on. I tried to reach a residential area where I knew people whom I hoped would understand me. But amid the houses and undefined paths, I soon lost my bearings. A second time, all my courage and all my strength left me. I couldn’t go on; I wanted to give up again. I sat on the ground, closed my eyes, desperate. When I opened them again, my gaze fell on an unusually crooked palm tree I’d noticed days before. Its growth pointed me in the direction of the house I was looking for. I found comfort and understanding with my well-traveled friend. We took a long walk across the countryside. At one point, I looked into the distance. It was as if the sky had opened, everything seemed to be in motion, a dance—full of beauty, life, and harmony. The true order of the world—of which I am a part—spoke to me, revealed itself, a destiny reaching beyond me, at the same time, my own.
Back in Berlin, I picked up where I’d left off before India and returned to my architecture studies, searching for books about the Spanish architect Antoni Gaudí, whose multiplicity of colors and forms had touched me during my travels. I found a lot about him, and quite unintentionally came across references to Rudolf Steiner, the Goetheanum, and other buildings he had designed. By way of detour through India, across the bridge of architecture, I came to Rudolf Steiner and immersed myself in his writings. His descriptions and words resonated with my own experiences. To me, it was clear: I was encountering my Self and, in extraordinary moments of consciousness, had experienced the threefold dimension of ‘I’, reincarnation, and karma.
My threefold question, “Where do I come from? Who am I? Where am I going?” had unexpectedly begun to come together into an answer. I had experienced a change of perspective. Life did not become easier, but it did become more real. Truly more real.
Translation Joshua Kelberman
Photo Annie Spratt/unsplash
