What it is about:
Death and new beginnings.
If something new wants to emerge, the old must pass away.
The powerful creative force behind everything that emerges and passes away.
Primordial trust in life, which pours from the old into the new at every moment.
Life is in a state of constant flux. It knows no full stop, not even a comma, it has no reverse gear, it knows only change. Nothing can be done about this.
"Be greeted," my mother said to me. We both knew that her end was near. I waited, as if rooted to the spot under the open door to her room. It was surreal bright. A speck of light on the wall behind her looked like the radiant evening star. Enchanted by this solemn atmosphere, I stood there. I, grateful daughter, charmed by the miracle of the moment.
My mother seemed strong. It seemed as if the darkness of the disease had already gone out of the window and surrendered to the burning.
Briefly, it flashed through my mind how I had experienced much sadness with my mother in the course of our life together: three of her children, three brothers of mine, died shortly after birth. I was still very young and understood little.
My red wooden spinning toy was lying on her bedspread in front of me. She had kept it for me. I was touched. That was my mother! It all suited her.
"Picked up is not put off," she said and gave me the toy.
Shortly after, she died. I sat beside her during her last breath. Alone.
This being alone in powerful moments of my life would be repeated many more times.
Now, as a woman, I am reaping the fruits of that time. I stand rooted in life with confidence and know from first-hand experience that nothing can be taken for granted, that there is no guarantee of life, that I am unique and must remain so until the last day.
So, no lazy compromises! No unscrupulous deals with the devil! No sacrificing for a false smile. I am woman, a human being, I am dignity, I have an upright walk!
There is that place, there in the darkness, where aliveness whispers.
Where everything dances to a deep, powerful song.
It is the sound of primal trust, the dowry for our existence.
Characters of an ancient language glide through the space.
Their poetry is steeped in creation.
It tells of the birch sapling,
it dreams of the sweetness of the rose fragrance,
it speaks of the growing human being,
of the irrepressible driving force of becoming and passing away,
of the eternally changing life.