Die Quelle – Gedicht von Rumi
Alles, was du siehst, hat seine Wurzeln in der unsichtbaren Welt.
Die Formen ändern sich, doch die Essenz ist die gleiche.
Jedes süße Wort wird verklingen, jeder schöne Anblick verblasst.
Doch sei nicht verzagt.
Die Quelle, aus der es entspringt, ist ewig, wächst, verzweigt sich,
bringt neues Leben und neue Freude.
Warum weinst du?
Die Quelle, aus der es entspringt, ist in DIR, und die ganze Welt sprudelt daraus hervor.
Die Quelle ist voll, ihre Wasser fließen für immer;
trauere nicht, trinke, soviel du willst!
Denn sie wird niemals austrocknen, dies ist der endlose Ozean.
Rumi
the summer day – poem by Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver
Spring – Poem by Mary Oliver
Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring
down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring
I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue
like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:
how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge
to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else
my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,
it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;
all day I think of her -—
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.
Spring – a poem by Mary Oliver
Kalahari 2020
Im Januar / Februar 2020 war ich mit einigen Menschen aus dem Circlewise-Netzwerk zu Besuch bei den Juo/hansi in der Kalahari.
Wir wollten die Menschen dieser uralten Kultur besuchen, um von ihnen zu lernen – über das Mensch-Sein, über Naturverbindung, über Spurenlesen. Zudem wollten wir einen Film drehen, der die von den Juo/hansi frisch gegründete Tracker-School in Bildern einfängt.