Ship of Fools

Some one who is alive and longs for death, he is like a machine that will not run even though it can run.


Some one who is hungry even though he has enough to eat, he like an ill man who can not eat.


Some one who is happy, although he has no reason to, he is  like a senseless run-out model in this reasonable time.


There is always some perspective, were we seem to wear the fools cap. Therefore we can give up taking ourselves seriously. Wouldn't it be nice to choose consciously the fool's role and living that role with full dedication to the public?

Passeport s'il vous plâit

In Afghanistan, there are policemen who can not read or write. Because they lack these skills, they let all persons pass who show any document resembling an identity card.

 We have an inner checkpoint too, we can decide whether we are open for contacts or not. We should train our inner guard or it can happen that we allow anyone to mingle in our affairs, holding up false papers that we can not read such as:

 Preacher id-card, an expert on the life after death

News: id-card, universal representation of facts

Sect: id-card, an expert on the right path

Police: id-card, justice producer

Woman id-card, an expert on men's happiness

Man id-card, expert for women's happiness


If we are vigilant and learn the language of our heart, our vigilance will not let pass false experts into our inner realms ....


And maybe, education may prove a stronger weapon for peace in Afghanistan than any well-meant bullet.

Nobody Is An Island

Ain't that the title of a novel by Johannes Mario Simmel?


Some people I meet during the day, I can imagine them very well on an island. They behave as if they were alone in the world. These people, in case they were left alone on an island, would at first kill all living things and clutter the nascent wilderness.


In this small inhospitable hell they would criticize the island to be of no use and would accuse the creation to play tricks on great spirits. Then they would perish and  - hopefully - the island would flourish again after their death.


I do not want to be a part of the island of these hungry ghosts. Every day they live among us and eat the whole world empty without ever giving anything in return ....

If you have a question the you should return to your special inner place

If you're at a loss, return to your special inner place and ask the question that moves you. Above all, learn to accept that finding an answer to the questions does not necessarily mean finding the answer or know the answer as though you had read something and just have to retrieve it like a thought.
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No. The inner knowledge approaches from infinity, even though you will not well imagine what infinity means. Because it comes from infinity, it takes infinitely different ways, until it gets to you. Or have you experienced before, that while you were facing many choices, you would have taken only the same way out?


Those who know, stick their heads into the infinite and they own nothing to grasp the infinity. And yet the knowledge trickles into their world, becomes understandable and is different for each person. That is the difficulty in learning and teaching.


Knowledge is the same, but no way is comparable with that of others, and that means every student learns in a different order, and each teacher adjusts to his pupil. The infinity combines both, teacher and student and gives both a never previously seen track. Both have in common only that it happens to sound like a miracle to them to find a way ...

Only One Finger...

"Did you know that a man can carry the world with one finger alone?" asked the master curiously.

"With one finger, while the world is so big and my fingers are just so small. Hardly, "replied his pupil. "I certainly am not able not do that."

The master jumped up and rotated around his finger through the air. The finger seemed fixed at a spot while the master was in the air. "My finger has successfully held the world in its place."

"You're just jumping." The student did not understand the statement of the master.

"Oh, shut your mouth and do it for me once. Pratt, Pratt, Pratt, the trap is permanently in motion."

The student gathered a momentum and made angry somersault through the air. He stuck his finger in the air and tried to fix it there. No sooner had he done so, his mind was filled with a picture of a happy living earth.

The master smiled. "Just one finger ... carrying the earth, only one ...". Then he walked away, while his students arrived with both feet on the ground.

Somewhere behind the rainbow

Somewhere beyond the rainbow, there is a land ....

Which land is hiding behind the rainbow, your rainbow? Again and again, I note that I loose my way on the way to the land behind the rainbow, I get lost. That I notice that daily life has eaten up my search and I must sit down again - stop. In silence, I search the rainbow.

Sometimes he seems to linger in the sun, sometimes he cuts through the rain. I am regularly in the land behind the rainbow, from where I write a story now and again. Scattered among the other stories, they are sand grains in the blogosphere.

When I once was in the country behind the rainbow, I met a lizard with whom I had made a date years ago. I would not have thought that this lizard was so on time, but it appeared exactly at the promised time. We had a long conversation about people and lizards, and eventually the lizard said, humans are young people. Humans have not really found their place in the world yet and according to the view of the lizard humans cause no more or less damage than other species perhaps have already performed.

"Your people must learn to feel the people who would live many thousands of years from now on. These people are an inspiration for all who live now, because, unfortunately, any species ist to themselves father and mother, even if they just were born. But we lizards may easyily talk, we are already old, "the lizard said.

Well, a conversation behind the rainbow might not mean much, but do we have children and grandchildren, who might be our parents?

Love makes you beautiful, handsome

I find it quite well that all the people I know get more beautiful / handsome the more I love them. I feel that love has no sense of beauty.

I wonder whether beautiful people would assume that they would be loved, because they are beautiful? It is true that all people are entitled to be loved, but just to be good looking, even if it is the result of much work and skill, it is not a foundation for lasting love ...