{"id":66602,"date":"2025-06-18T08:25:00","date_gmt":"2025-06-18T06:25:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/?p=66602"},"modified":"2025-06-18T20:50:21","modified_gmt":"2025-06-18T18:50:21","slug":"enchanted-not-demented","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/enchanted-not-demented\/","title":{"rendered":"Enchanted not Demented"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Where do we get access to the impulses that strengthen us in life? Everything is becoming faster, more mechanical, and crazier. We need respite to allow our souls to find and reconnect with themselves. Some impressions and thoughts from a visit to Assisi and St. Francis.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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In May, the earth around Assisi is not yet scorched. The summer crowds don\u2019t yet stream through the narrow streets of the pink-gray town. The holm oaks in the forest around the Eremo delle Carceri, where Francis liked to stay, sway gently in the spring breeze, with violets blooming among their roots. My guidebook calls Assisi \u201cthe enchanted city,\u201d and it truly seems to float in pastel hues on the slopes of Mount Subasio. In the twilight, a city of clouds; at night, a sparkling cluster of stars in the black nothingness. Everything in the vicinity of St. Francis streams out with a gentle glow. The frescoes by Giotto and Cimabue abound with soft colors and warm faces. They leave the icon\u2019s heavenly space behind and gradually come closer to the human being on Earth. They are framed in a red gold from the beyond. The sky here is sometimes deep blue, sometimes turquoise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wonder what kind of being and consciousness someone has who speaks to the birds of God\u2019s glory, who treats a sheep like a brother, and who tames the wolf so that it lies down gently beside the lamb. In a plaster relief, Francis of Assisi lovingly embraces a bush. A sculpture lying under the trees depicts a monk gazing dreamily at the sky. Peaceful tourists browse in the souvenir shops. Pilgrims stand reverently before Francis\u2019 tomb. Children play soccer in front of St. Clare\u2019s Church.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gradually, I begin to feel enchanted myself. No longer alert and self-conscious, I glide through the landscape and alleys, becoming calm and gentle toward everything. Yet I don’t lose touch with myself or the world\u2014quite the contrary. I am in a state that does not allow such separation to occur. Something moves me and whispers through the birds’ songs, the city’s breath, the evening light, the hills and mountains, the forest, in beholding, in wandering, in feeling, and in the altarpieces of the small chapel that Francis built outside the city. I walk more slowly, more consciously, more gently, more kindly. I\u2019m not filled with so much desire anymore. Something brushes against my soul, telling me of a reality I can truly choose for myself. My mind grows quiet. Finally. My words become spaces where others can speak. Speaking and listening soften, like a third presence that knows them both. Something touches my heart\u2014or perhaps my heart becomes touchable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Crazy World<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Nowadays, it would be considered crazy if someone publicly took part in the activities of their \u201cfellow beings.\u201d Imagine a man standing in your town square talking to pigeons. A shopkeeper would probably call social services. He\u2019d be described as \u201ca bit lost\u201d and \u201cout of touch\u201d with the world. But what does it mean to be in the world and in touch? And what is \u201ccrazy\u201d? That children and young people flee to drugs or video games to escape the flood of news, false truths, and horror stories of criminals on Instagram and TikTok? That a boy takes his own life because he\u2019s fallen in love with an AI? That maximal profit is valued more than treating Mother Earth and ourselves in a way that conserves resources and nurtures the soul? That we don\u2019t prevent people from starving or drowning, being shot, or driven from their homes? That there are hardly any clean and wild rivers left in Europe? That the call of the nightingale no longer touches our heart? That we can\u2019t find true value in anything? That we don\u2019t speak or understand the language of connectedness?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes, that\u2019s crazy. But in the \u201cotherworldliness\u201d of Assisi, something emerges that, at least for me, puts things back into perspective. I\u2019d like to escape this cold, capitalist, insensitive, efficient, fast-paced, rushed, insecure, warmongering, dishonest world every now and then, and I\u2019d recommend that to everyone. And in this enchantment, to hear the magic of creation, to perceive what\u2019s really important to me, what\u2019s truly valuable. All this lies outside political debates and social discourse. It is direct and immediate. I cannot hide, but I feel safe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Language of Interconnectedness<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Back home, I\u2019m still searching for an answer to the question of what this \u201cotherworldliness\u201d that I sensed around Assisi actually consists of. It is not estrangement from the world nor a complete merging with it; I was awake throughout the experience and was aware of what was happening to me. I was fully present. But this presence was not just a spiritual light, or a pure, cool consciousness, not just an observational standpoint, not just equanimity. It is the presence of light in earthly Being. Light that knows light. And something else, too\u2014something warm and benevolent. It\u2019s like a presence in love itself. A light that knows itself in warmth, births itself in warmth, fulfills itself in warmth. It is consciousness and love at the same time. As if warmth has become the carrier of light. Everything that belongs to the wonders of creation and this life is contained there. So is everything that we can, and sometimes must, feel about it: pain, sadness, joy, helplessness, security, honesty, trust, clarity . . . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How would we encounter one another in this state? How would we speak with and to one another in a \u201cpresence in love\u201d? It would no longer be the words that mattered so much, but the act of speaking itself. Those who speak with gentleness, trust, and clarity\u2014who are conscious of themselves\u2014cannot ignore others. Not even if the other is a wolf or a sheep or a bird or a river. We are all creatures of God. Speaking within love, we are connected, we become touchable. When I become aware of this, in my contentment, I can also decide to speak with love. I can let it sink into my heart and carry it into my life. At least, if I allow myself to be enchanted from time to time and remember the beauty of creation, the comfort of love, the power of compassion. Do I then speak and act within the interconnectedness of place?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Translation <\/strong>Joshua Kelberman
Image<\/strong> Hannes Weigert, May 27, 2025, acrylic\/cotton, 50 x 60 cm<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Where do we get access to the impulses that strengthen us in life? Everything is becoming faster, more mechanical, and crazier. We need respite to allow our souls to find and reconnect with themselves. Some impressions and thoughts from a visit to Assisi and St. Francis. In May, the earth around Assisi is not yet scorched. The summer crowds don\u2019t yet stream through the narrow streets of the pink-gray town. The holm oaks in the forest around the Eremo delle […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9153,"featured_media":66267,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[8793,8823],"tags":[11662,11670,8814],"class_list":["post-66602","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-philosophy","category-reflection","tag-ausgabe-23-2025-en","tag-english-issue-25-26-2025","tag-musings"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/66602","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/9153"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=66602"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/66602\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/66267"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=66602"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=66602"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dasgoetheanum.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=66602"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}