Homeless and Dreamfull – Wintercrisis (ENGLISH)

(Who prefers to listen to the Audioversion, please scroll down to the end of the page)

In the morning sun - by the quince tree. A 6x8m patch of human-influenced wilderness, surrounded by walls and fences. The song of the male blackbird mingles with the roar of the public bus and the rumble of the building site. Can I still hear the silence between the lines? Sometimes.

It was difficult for me just a moment ago, because my thoughts were constantly revolving around solutions to problems, just as the roar of the B3 can be heard incessantly. The idea that the noise is the waves of the sea sometimes relaxes the soul. Writing focuses the jumble of thoughts. It allows me to look at the individual threads of the tangle and try to untangle them.

It's not really winter anymore. I chose this title because it echoes the winter crisis. Actually, it was hardly winter at all. Compared to our last year in Sweden, it feels more like a long but almost direct transition from fall to spring here.

It is not easy for me not to compare.

The peace of the forest - the hustle and bustle of the city

The fresh, clear winter air - the exhaust fumes of the cars

Walking barefoot, even in the snow - In shoes over asphalt

Drinking water in lakes and streams - Tasteless water from the tap

The song of the frozen lake - The roar of the building site

Even back then, it wasn't always quiet in the Swedish forest. When the wind was unfavorable, the sawmill rattled and rumbled through the whole forest. A reminder of the world "out there". Of the madness of a capital-oriented, economic growth-hungry world that mows down entire forests, or even individual tree gods.

Here it is the other way around: the song of the blackbird, the flow of the river, the presence of the trees, reminds us of the peace of nature "out there, far away, or perhaps deep within ourselves", which also prevailed here many, many years ago. Of which people were an important part.

It is the big questions that are reflected in our small ones.

Where can we live our dream of a natur-tribe community in which we let ourselves and nature be wild again? And with whom? And how? Where do we come from - where are we going? Where is our homeland? Where is our tribe?

Are we wandering around in search of something that humanity has inevitably lost long ago? Or do we carry within us ancient seeds that are just waiting to find the right breeding ground to grow and blossom? When is the time to make big compromises, to surrender in humility and let our confidence in life rest in the fact that we are right where we are and with the people we are with. No matter where, no matter with whom. Just exactly right, even though our dream picture looks different.

Or is this the low before the coming breakthrough? The usual creative crisis of an artist before the pieces of the puzzle come together and the great work is created? But this work of art requires more creative spirits than one or two creators with a brush and some colours.

Resting - or fighting? Yes, it feels like a fight right now. And that probably indicates that something is not quite right.

Things will probably look a lot rosier once we've got through the big phase of "getting things done" that we've been in almost continuously since October. May will rejoice! This is the final spurt.

But by the time Elouan reaches school age at the latest, we will either have to be at the beginning of our goal or let go of everything that feels great but is no longer serving us. I suppose the urge to create a healthier, more vibrant, freer life for Elouan, and other children, is all the more challenging now that I am in the house where I experienced my own school and teaching crises. A-levels, puberty, teaching years, party excesses, loss of trust in authority, politics, the state, education systems, teachers and teaching and so on.

This house, this city, is a familiar place. But it has its own shadowy stories, which also make it obnoxious to me. Perhaps it is the old stories that make me feel a crisis all the more. The crises of old times that are still wandering around here are being fed again. Perhaps not just my own stories.

Just like back then, I now seek refuge in familiar natural places: on the banks of the River Lahn, at the weir, by the stream of the Teufelsgraben, whose most beautiful trees were felled a few years ago due to safety risks.

The oasis of the Teufelsgraben was sacred to me. It seemed like the last place here where the creatures of old myths sometimes still show themselves. A place of peace. It pained me and nourished my anger, awakened my sadness to experience the result of unconscious job execution so close. But I was comforted by the sight of the green revolution, which, unimpressed by the destruction, overgrew the felled tree trunks and reshaped the square. A place of senseless destruction, but also of hope.

The good old quince tree in our garden, on which tits, blackbirds, starlings, nuthatches, sparrows, robins, finches and pigeons cavort. It gives us the gift of its blossoms and fruit. It is cherished and honored. How often has this tree helped me to connect with the roots of life.

Sometimes a falcon even perches on one of its branches. The falcon that lives over in the church tower. I have often seen him perched on its top. Like a lonely guardian.

I have often come across him in the meadows by the river, perched on an apple tree or a street lamp. Sometimes, in spring, he is not alone. Then two falcons flutter after the course of the Lahn.

The good old river Lahn. It meanders sluggishly through the countryside in a muddy color. Her scent awakens childhood feelings in me. What times I have not experienced with her. Laughing moments, moments of friendship, children's birthdays and teenage parties. Romantic moments. Many a kiss. Hours together, hours alone. Quiet moments of peace... and sadness. I have shared all this and much more with the Lahn.

The good old Lahn, which is still the same, even if its waters have long since changed.

I once returned home from my almost four-year journey as a carpenter on a raft, accompanied by 7 journeymen. At least that's what they said. Returning home. My big topic back then: What is home?Because although my journeyman's journey in Marburg had come full circle, it didn't feel like I was returning to a place that I would wholeheartedly call home. It didn't feel like coming home at all, more like the beginning of a search for home.

Even though I spent a large part of my youth here in Marburg, and at least spent my childhood elsewhere on the banks of the Lahn, I didn't and still don't feel at home here. Not a part of it. Yes, some things are familiar to me here. There are a few old and new friends. I know many a tree and I know which bus routes go where. But that doesn't make this place my home.

In all my years of travel, I have recognized places where I felt much more at home. These were places in nature where I spent long periods of time; in the wild mountains, by wide lakes, by the sound of the sea and under strong trees. But I was also able to find home in deep contact with people. And last but not least, in the contact with my own depths .These encounters were like deep memories of what is very familiar. But until now, the geographical places where a feeling of home arose were only temporary niches, small oases where I could not stay for long, mostly because of the idea of possession.

Here in Marburg, or in Germany in general, I often feel like a wild animal wandering around in a free-range enclosure instead of living in the natural wild. I can make myself comfortable here. It is familiar to me. It feels far easier and, to some extent, safe. But my soul knows that it doesn't belong here. Not in the urban landscape. Not in this model of society. My soul still remembers how it feels to be truly human on this planet Earth.

And isn't it? If we humans lived true to our nature, as we have done for tens of thousands of years, then we would be part of the greater whole in a familiar tribe of humans in the middle of the wilderness.

This is what I and we want to live again; To recreate an indiginous life, which is based on our own roots. A life true to nature, in which we as a human tribe are integrated into the ecological network of the earth community. In which we once again become aware of the rhythms and cycles of nature, are conscious of them within ourselves and live according to them. The rhythms of the sun, moon and stars, of the seasons and tides are also the rhythms of our lives.

A woman who has had her bleeding should not have to force herself to fulfill duties in pain. She should be held by the tribe and allowed to surrender to her healing phase.

A man who has a creative crisis should be supported in being able to retreat to a powerful place to be all to himself, or be held in a group of men to regroup, to be able to be fully there for his family, for his tribe.

Above all, however, our children should learn what it really takes to live a fulfilled, meaningful life that is true to nature. What it takes for the inquisitive, lively glow in their eyes to grow into a strong lifefire.

We want to live wild again. To let humanity run wild. And by that we mean, above all, living in a species-appropriate way. Celebrating our humanity in deep connection. To be woven into the cycles and resources of a land as a natural human being. Living close to the earth, being a beneficial part of an ecological network. Living in symbiosis with the land. To live a loving relationship with oneself and all being.

These are small sentences of the big vision picture. To bring the vision to life, it is needed to have a place that fits the vision, a group of people who carry the same vision fire, the learning of practical skills needed to live wild, close to nature and independent. Skills and experience to live community, communication and conflict resolution skills, the necessary expansion of consciousness to shed old patterns and trauma and create a new ancient culture, and last but not least, of course, money to make at least the initial steps possible.

This list overwhelms me. Because all of this still seems so far away. But this is probably a multi-generational journey. Who knows how long we will travel and what destinations we will experience. Ultimately, I dream of a global consciousness in which people perceive themselves as part of the earth community alongside whales, snails, trees, lichens, rocks, rivers and deserts. But first start "small". Whereby even the small dream feels gigantic, and has been almost impossible to achieve lately. Then the dream shrinks to a simple, wild patch of land where we have a home as a family and can just do "our thing". Then I ask myself: why all the kilometers, why this journey? Wouldn't our lives be much closer to nature if we simply lived in a small garden plot by the forest, whether in Germany or elsewhere? Wouldn't we then already be living close to the earth on a small scale, surrounded by trees we know, feeding ourselves from the garden instead of living off supermarkets and jetting over asphalt on four wheels? Instead of entertaining hanky-panky with a forest lake or a mountain valley, feeling deeply rooted?

Yes, perhaps we would be much more grounded right now. But maybe I would be experiencing a completely different crisis. In any case, it is clear that I, Lou and Elouan feel much better when we are in wild countries. That could be the Alps. Or the vastness of Norway. I still remember how hard it was for me to leave the north and return to the urban hustle and bustle of Germany. I can still remember our culture shock: returning from the quiet Scandinavian forests, we were woken up in Germany, in this city, at half past six by a jackhammer. Somehow it was also funny, as absurd as it was.

Yes, we are drawn to Norway again. The geographical and governmental situation probably suits our vision better; vast land, vast forests, clean water everywhere, no compulsory schooling, but excellent educational opportunities. Yes, we can imagine settling down in the North, the soil there is good. But it doesn't seem to be that easy. There is a lack of community and money.

Only the dream is present, the heart is calling us.

I dream of paradise on earth. First of all of an oasis. A seed that is planted and allowed to grow into a magnificent Garden of Eden. A home not just for us. A place whose fruits will hopefully be carried into the world and whose seeds will be planted elsewhere.

Yes, this is the dream that lies dormant in me, in us, and wants to awaken. It knocks like a baby in its mother's full belly. And we know: This is not just our dream. It lies dormant in many people of our generation in one way or another: More community, more nature. Dreams show us what we lack.

Will it remain a dream, or will this dream be born into the world in one way or another? I have great doubts about wasting my energy. Birth often seems far too far away, even impossible. Too difficult. There is a lack of role models who have gone before us. The stories of failure are omnipresent.

The voice of crisis inside me speaks up again.

And anyway, I feel rather presumptuous to aspire to paradise on earth in the current state of the human world. How many people flee to Germany because they come from incomparable circumstances and crises? Shouldn't I just think about how lucky I am not to HAVE to flee? Sometimes that helps me to feel better. However, as soon as empathy sets in, this is no longer the case. Moreover, the dream often feels all the more distant when I look at the overall picture of the world from this perspective. When I read or listen to the news, my dreams vanish like a small boat crushed through a Tsunami. Isn't there other things to do first, before repairing this little boat?

But in the end it is not about a small boat. It is about learning again how to swim in the vast ocean as a free fish. Just because other lifes are a way more tragic it doesn't mean that we don't have a right to follow a life that was taken all of us ages ago. Latest it was taken from the people of America, Africa or Australia. But long before that is was also taken from the free people of Europe.

Or am I just on the run, or what is it about dreams? Will they remain dreams forever because I never feel ready, we never are? Wouldn't we have to be much more enlightened to want to live paradise on earth again? Wouldn't we need the peace and strength that the great sages of history radiated? But those who compare themselves become even more unhappy. Especially with the poorest of the poor or with the greatest of the greatest. It would be easier if we could at least see the direction clearly. Sometimes we do. But these days we are only guided by vague feelings. We wait for the familiar moment when the clear YES pulsates within us.

Would we arrive if we stopped following our dreams? Is our striving a self-generated obstacle to simply being completely happy here and now?

The following poem is a simple translation of the original poem, which is in German

But is a dream not meant to be.

Like a spring flowing from the rocks,

To flood into the world,

To flow according to its destiny?

At the beginning through hard stone,

World-shaping well to wander,

In waterfalls and meanders,

The stream dreams of being a river.

Thus he follows his lineage

In undefined paths

May the stream sink into the valley

May a dream gift the world.

And when, against all scorn,

The magic of nature returns,

Life gives birth to a river,

Dream becomes manifestation.

Until the river fades,

into the blessing of the sea,

And dreams there of being as rain,

An eternal becoming and passing away.

One human. One striving.

One life. One dream.

It would probably be against my and our nature not to follow our dreams.

Just as a stream becomes a river, we also want to follow our purpose. The destination is clear, the current direction is ambiguous. We are homeless, searching for our promised land.

What is more important? The path or the destination?

The companions.

We felt this clearly in December, when our motorhome "Villa Bunt" broke down, making us wonder whether we would have to give it up and lose the little kind of home we had. But we quickly realized: Villa Bunt was never what we consider our home to be. It was a means to an end, a mobile retreat, the ship to our destination. Nothing more.

Others dream of vanlife. We don't actually want to live in a car. But close to the earth. Now we have made Villa Bunt fit again, but sold it. Space for something new.

And the house in which I spent my youth, and which has always been a kind of retreat, we are also in the process of dissolving. Everything is changing.

We're toying with the idea of no longer owning a car at all. But we're probably not there yet. We still think we need a car to find our home. But for this moment, we are actually almost homeless. And in it, we feel all the more what makes us feel at home: Even living under a bridge, this could not be taken away from us. Because our true home is ourselves. Together we feel safe and secure, free, belonging, connected and in love. In the strong moments we feel: That's all we really need. We are our own little tribe. In the even stronger moments, we walk together on the often sunny, often rocky path of our dreams.

May we, like the water in its path of change, find fulfillment in it and give ourselves and the world a gift.

These lines have taken time. Many times I was on the verge of never finishing this text. I often wrote a few words and then stopped again. Let alone publish it. No time. No motivation. No inspiration. Too tired. Too many other things. Too much soul-stripping.

Winter is long gone now. The timid leaves of the quince tree, which adorned the early spring green at the beginning of this text, are now large and shining, crowned by full, white blossoms.

However the winter crisis is not over yet. We live too little of the things that inspire us, we doubt our dreams too much and discuss possible compromises. At the same time, we have no time to seriously consider our future path. Car repairs, car sales, viewing new cars, decluttering the house, earning money, online sales, bureaucracy wars. In these times, it all takes us far too far away from what we actually want to live. And hardly any of the plans we make just work out. We don't seem to be in the flow at all. We constantly have to do things differently than we thought.

Despite helping my mom to move, we returned to Germany to get our car through the two years main investigation. We would never have thought that this would turn into a month-long odyssey through countless garages and nerve-wracking barriers. We were out of breath at the latest when our tyre was punctured. At least that's how it felt. Since then, there have been a few more things to deal with and somehow it just keeps going and it's not actually all that bad. Just kind of exhausting.

Whenever we think it's too much, we can't manage any more, there's always another one on top. And somehow we manage it.

Somehow there's always a light calling us to contiue.

At least we see the results of our work: After we decided to sell our campervan we put some last energy in it to renovate it. We were surprised from the result ourselves; and within two days Villa Bunt and a good amount of money changed owners. Now we have enough money to buy a new campervan that is hopefully serving us better. Inshallah!

This stressful chapter would be a way more easy if Elouan would not be involved. Even it is the most beautiful, too. At least we do a forest walk with him once for a while, even we have a way too much to do. Or we bake a cake.

The last years it was me, bringing Elouan in the forest and show him the beauty of nature. Now he is the one who is pushing me to go outside. We always feel sorry for him, who is experiencing all this stress we have these days up close. And how challenging it often is for us to find time for him in all the things that have to be done and to engage wholeheartedly in games and adventures with him. He is bored. And through this he is mirroring us how boring the things are that we have to do these days. However, I now understand why nurseries exist. It's best for the children if the parents are constantly busy. When there are no other children in the little tribe. It's crazy how far we are from our dream. Crisis voice.

But the sun is good for us.

Soon the summer will be there and then we'll live outside again.

Cooking over the fire, fishing, climbing trees, gathering berries. All the things Elouan loves to do.

And still.. soonish we need more children around us.

Despite the current crisis, of course we won't stop celebrating life: And so we sealed the bond of home together with marriage. On April 12, 2024, we exchanged our state-approved yes-word.

And in a song, we promised each other trust, love, respect and commitment.

A promise of stability in the great journey of life, in which there is only one constant: The constant of flow; everything is changing. This is how the nature of being works. Movement is natural. Changing is natural.

At least we are always connected to nature through the nature of being. Through just being.

Thank you for reading, for seeing and feeling.

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