It is not dawning yet, wide awake I am and I lighted a candle. The stillness of the house resonates softly. It is not dawning yet towards a dreary January morning

I don't know if this poem is necessary which is often the question when we call upon words But now early morning it is and the heron flies towards my sunset and it is the time when the nurse, poor soul

Today after breakfast my Ego suddenly was gone! I looked under the bed, in the cellar, beside the loo, even in the bathroom mirror, but it was gone!

I had a visitor the other day, that other day - she came to my house for the first time. Oh what a nice kitchen you have, she said. And I replied:

Okay. I did not think this through to the end, but I throw it on the table anyway, listen: There is a spider-species called the 'tent spider'

I adore the ancient eastern metaphor of the master butcher, that cut up an oxen for the emperor stating that he cut up hundreds of animals before with the same knife without ever sharpening it

A young seeker once went to see a holy man up in the mountains to get answers to all the questions that haunted him since long. When he entered the simple hut the wise resided in the holy man sternly looked at him and only said

I had this little situation - we know it is often these little situations, that loosen the handbrake of the train of thought

I would never have thought, that I would one day receive a deep and most valuable spiritual teaching by a car mechanic, including moustache and overall