Yaks are gentle giants, who build their friendships on trust, equality and reciprocity, stay balanced and calm amidst raging storms. No matter, how harsh a winter might be, they keep on walking their path step by step, until the first snowdrop blossoms and blooms and a new spring is dawning.
​

​They stay and walk in the truth of their souls and are tirelessly working towards, what they want to bring into this realm. Yaks do not expect from others, what they are not willing to do themselves, and neither will they ever force someone else to do their bidding or sacrifice, what they are not willing to sacrifice themselves. 

​Yaks patiently take one step after the other, for they live in the here and now, using the gift of the present moment. Yak says, “There is no guilt in taking your time in healing and nourishing your soul and walking in solitude for as long as need be.”

When Yak is walking with you as a companion and mentor, she will never pressure you, but warm you and huddle with you, when you get tired amidst the storms of winter, until you are ready to take another step.
 
Yaks allow no pressure. Their herds split to avoid unnecessary fights or to end a looming conflict in the most sensible way. They form groups of true friends, with friendships built on trust, that has grown over time, and equal give and take. 

When you ask for learning and deeper insights, your wish may be granted in unexpected ways. Last year I began to paint and draw again. Out of the blue. I had loved painting and drawing as a child, I had even specialized in arts for a short while in high school, until I asked for permission to change departments and started studying the jazz guitar. I did not know, why I was called to painting again, but I kept painting nonetheless and whenever I see a spirit animal in front of my mind’s eye now, I paint it. Why I paint a certain guide, is usually answered a short while after I have finished the painting. 
 
When I am working in Vienna, I am being called to draw and paint spirit guides quite often now. During one of my visits to Vienna last year I was called to draw a very specific animal spirit. On the first day, when I was sitting in a café, I felt a seahorse spirit in my energy field. I painted it, but did not think of it again for a while. 

A few days later, I got on the subway and there were no empty seats except three around a man whose energy screamed “Go away!” Me being me, I sat down opposite of him. I saw the seahorse again and was faced with a decision. Speak and be myself, risk to be hurt or keep my mouth shut and never open it again. 
​

​He was completely startled and surprised by the fact, that someone would talk to him instead of running away. The energy he had been in had felt like anger at first, but in truth it was fear of getting hurt. At first, he did not want to look at the drawing, but then he did and fell in love with it. He told me his story. He was an artist, fighting depression. He was fighting to get back to living his life again.

​When we were about to say our goodbyes, he told me that he was embarrassed, because he had not been able to give me anything in return. But he had. A smile. His whole energy changed after I had told him that. He added, that he was not used to having good things happen to him in his life. I simply said, that something good had just happened. Just like that, no strings attached. Then we parted ways. 

​I asked myself, why I had seen a seahorse and why I had been called to give him seahorse medicine in form of a drawing and the answer came a while later. 

 
Seahorse medicine is incredibly strong. Seahorses have three hearts beating simultaneously, so if one heart gets tired, the others keep the seahorse strong until it is fully recovered. ​They show us, that we have many resources within us and that when the heart that has been wounded in the past is tired, the one being in the here and now and the one dreaming our highest good into being, our future, will be able to keep us whole until the wounded one is mended.  

​Seahorses are poor swimmers, yet they are able to rest even in the roughest of seas with their tails wound around a stationary object. They swim along their path, one stroke after the other, resting and securing themselves when needed and continue on their path, when they have regained their balance, showing us how to navigate the stormiest of emotions and situations.
​
Their eyes move independently, they can see what lies behind them in the past, their present state and even glimpse into the future and see what lies in front of them at the same time. All while being able to anchor themselves to any object, while being completely at peace within themselves, finding their balance again if needed. 
 
Seahorse knows that it is vulnerable, but it knows its vulnerabilities, acknowledges them and teaches us that recognizing our vulnerabilities is a way to empower and protect us and others. Instead of lamenting over the fact, that it is a poor swimmer and thus not able to speed along its path, it uses the time needed to anchor itself to reflect and rebalance, thus gaining insights and wisdom, learning. 
 
Meeting the artist on the subway was a gift in many ways. I was granted the gift of facing my own fears and my own vulnerability again. Life in itself is a teacher and mentor, when you take the time to anchor yourself for a while and try not to rush through.
 
It takes courage to speak to a complete stranger, see him or her for who he or she truly is. We tend to rush through our days, not looking left or right. To be seen and recognized is healing.

​Smile. In my eyes, a smile from the heart is the most precious gift of them all.  

The peacock is a great companion and teacher. It is not afraid of being itself and showing its true colors. It is standing tall and proud, its feathers glistening in the sunlight, showing its talents and gifts openly for everyone to see. Its inner light is emanating from its heart, nothing is hidden away. The Peacock teaches us to show our true colors, to shine and be ourselves, for standing in our power and shining our light has nothing to do with being arrogant but everything to do with daring to be the unique gift we are. 

​It sees true beauty in every being and everything. Like a swan it has grown into its precious colorful feathers after a long time of learning and experienced and seen the beauty and uniqueness of the beings around it before the sunlight has touched its own beautiful feathers for the first time.

​It has gotten to know its inner strength and power by taking one step after the other on its path and thus it knows, that whatever is needed to achieve its dream, is already inside its heart and growing and will see the light of day at the right moment in time. 
 
The peacock does not hide, it shows its true colors. It has never learned to sing, a songbird it is not. It has no heart for shallow and fake compliments and flattery does not stop it from speaking its truth. ​It knows, when it is time to speak up. It does not mask its words; it speaks with a loud and clear voice. 

 It sees through a thousand eyes, what was, what is and all the paths that lead into tomorrow. The Peacock knows its past lives and can see through any falsehood and deception. It sees true and is able to mend the eyes of those, that have seen, what they should not have had to see, so they can see the beauty of the world around them once more. 
 
The peacock was asked to guard this realm and protect the peace. Nothing goes by its eyes; it finds the viper among a thousand snakes and calls it out. There is no place in his heart for lies and deceit, it is incorruptible and will keep those under its protection from harm. 

A few years back, when I was still working in the corporate world, trying to find my path amidst the chaos of being uprooted and facing adversity, I was called onto a journey. I found myself following a sandy mountain trail, walking side by side with a white gorilla whose gentle eyes were soothing the emotions raging in my mind. 
 
After a time of walking in silence and enjoying the songs of the mountains around us, we reached a wall made of solid rock, a steep cliff, blocking the path. Moving forward would mean to climb the cliff that was towering over us. The gentle gorilla looked at me and said with a smile, “Follow me.” He began climbing the cliff with ease, not looking back at me, but simply being one with the rock and in the moment with every step he was taking. He reached the top of the cliff, sat down and I felt his gaze upon me. 
 
I hesitated and began fidgeting. At that point in time, I was afraid of heights, I did not even like to climb on ladders, the first rung being fine, the second rung being a challenge and the third one feeling like Mount Everest. I touched the rock wall in front of me and after swallowing, shaking my head and going through the motions, I started climbing. I did not like it one bit.

After a while I reached a point, where I could not climb on following a straight path, because the rock was crumbling beneath my fingers. I knew that I had to climb down again for a bit and simply take another route. But looking down meant becoming aware of the heights I had reached and letting my mind have a ball with all of the different ways I could possibly fall to my demise. I looked up, straight into the white gorilla’s face. He was still smiling his gentle smile. I took a deep breath. Instead of looking down I took a look to the right. There was a small crack in the rock. I had not noticed it before.

​I set my focus fully on the rock wall, sensing and feeling the stone, the nooks and crannies and its rough surface and it turned into a game. 

​I went up and down again, left then right, then up again and down, not my mind leading the way, but my heart. And then – all of a sudden – I had reached the top of the cliff. I was in complete disbelief.
 
The white gorilla smiled gently at me and said, “Look!” I looked up and saw a vast, lush green valley stretching out before our eyes, the sun rising in the distance bathing it in golden light. The gorilla made an inviting gesture with his left arm, “A whole new world is waiting for you with open arms.”
 
I sat down next to the gorilla elder, calmness filling me, and we watched the sunrise, at peace, enjoying the moment. 
 
A few months after my journey I noticed something. My fear of heights was gone. It hit me, when I was standing on top of a shaky ladder cleaning the windows looking down on the streets of Vienna. 

Anja, Julia and I had felt the call to hold a water ceremony on World Water Day, March 22nd 2024. We met beforehand, planning not only a ceremony to honor the waters, but also a gathering of storytellers. While getting to know each other and building trust, a circle came into being and went into ceremony on Water Day, heart-to-heart. 

I opened space and lit my fire, opening my heart. “Calm your mind”, a gentle voice whispered. I became still, one with the ocean, the waters. Time and space ceased to exist. I was called back into the here and now after a while and saw, that Julia had taken her seat in the circle, calmly and gently. A message was to be given. Julia had been invited to journey deep into the sea. Anja had arrived, equally calmly and gently taken her seat in the circle and a message was to be given: “Great Grandmother Ocean wants to speak to you.” We became still again, sitting together in silence, one with the waters again. I found myself swimming alongside a gentle blue whale elder. 

​“We are the Ocean, for we are one. The Ocean is us, for we are one. We are the waters. We are the clouds. We are the rain. Father Sun calls the waters into the sky, so they can return to Mother Earth, nourishing her, healing and cleansing her, thus nourishing us, cleansing us, healing us, for we are one.”
 
I saw a battlefield, a sea of blood and Father Sun called the blood into the sky. The blood became the rain, nourishing Mother Earth, nourishing us with blood spilt and cries of pain. For we are one.

​I saw violence, a hand inflicting pain, and Father Sun called the tears into the sky. The tears became the rain, nourishing Mother Earth, nourishing us with screams of pain. For we are one.

I saw compassion, gentle hands, caressing, loving, embracing, and Father Sun called the tears of joy into the sky. The tears became the rain, healing and mending Mother Earth, healing and mending our hearts with love unconditional. For we are one. 
​
We are one.
 
We are the boon.
 
We are the bane.
 
We are the heart.
 
We are the mind.

We are the soul.
 
We are the spirit.
 
We are one.
 
We swam out into the ocean of stars and I saw a giant tear drop slowly falling down on Mother Earth. “This tear is of our creation.” I saw floods of times past, the raging waters of our own creation. “This tear is of our own creation. It is us. For we are one.”
 
We are the laughter.
 
We are the pain.
 
We are the healing.
 
We are the storm.
 
We are the flood. 
 
We are the medicine.
 
We are one.

A long, long time ago, on a cold winter’s day, when Sister Wind was dancing merrily over the snowy meadows, a little fox and a small badger were playing together on a clearing in a snow-covered forest, trying to catch the snowflakes that were falling from the sky. 

​The little fox who was watching the glittering snowflakes in awe asked the badger, “Do you by any chance know, how much a snowflake weighs?” “Oh, not much at all! See? They land on my fur and do not weigh me down at all! I can still run around and play!” 

A wise old owl who had been watching the two youngsters playing in the snow said, “My young friends, let me tell you a story.”

​The fox and the badger sat down and looked up at the owl who was sitting high up in the trees. 

“Once upon a time, on a cold winter’s day just like this, not long after I had hatched and was still considered a spring chicken, ​I was sitting on the branch of a mighty tree.​ Snow began to fall and I was astounded to see that no snowflake was like the other and since I wanted to know, how many unique snowflakes there were, I started counting them as they were landing on the branch. One, two, three, thirty-seven, three hundred nine, eleven thousand fifty-six, two hundred thousand sixty-four and then another snowflake weighing nothing landed on the branch and all of a sudden it broke - mighty or not.” 
 
“Whoa!”, the two youngsters exclaimed. The old owl continued, “Sometimes we think that all our efforts are in vain and our voice will not make a difference, but if we work together and put our unique gifts to good use, many a great thing is possible.”  

Ich habe viele wunderbare Erinnerungen an das Unterrichten, aber einer der Momente, in denen ich auf meine Schüler am stolzesten war, kam, als sie geschlossen als Gruppe an mich herantraten, um mich auf etwas anzusprechen, das ihnen über Wochen hinweg aufgefallen war. 
 
Ich unterrichtete damals noch Deutsch als Fremdsprache und Alphabetisierung. Meine Schüler waren Teenager und Damen und Herren, die bisweilen schon kurz vor der Pensionierung standen. Sie kamen aus den unterschiedlichsten Kulturen und aller Herren Länder. 
​
Nachdem ich meine Kursgruppe am Morgen begrüßt, zeremoniell meinen Kaffee auf dem Lehrertisch abgestellt hatte – was meine Gruppe normalerweise zum Lachen brachte - und mit dem Unterrichten beginnen wollte, hob einer der Männer die Hand. Er war sichtlich nervös. Ich erteilte ihm das Wort.

​„Frau Otti, das kann so nicht weitergehen. Wir müssen mit Ihrem Mann sprechen. Sofort.“ Ich war verwirrt und antwortete, dass ich nicht verheiratet sei. „Dann sprechen wir mit Ihrem Freund. Aber das kann so nicht weitergehen. Wir schauen uns das nicht mehr an.“ Ich war nun vollkommen verwirrt und entgegnete: „Ich habe auch keinen Freund. Ich lebe allein. Worum geht es denn?“ 

Der Mann und ein paar Frauen standen auf und zeigten auf meine Unterarme und Hände, die mit blauen Flecken und Hämatomen übersäht waren. „Wir lassen nicht zu, dass Sie jemand schlägt! Das geht so nicht!“ Ich betrachtete meine Arme und sah sie zum ersten Mal durch die Augen von Menschen, die meinen persönlichen Hintergrund nicht kannten. Ich sah aus wie eine Frau, die Gewalt erfahren hatte. Ich sah auf und blickte jedem meiner Schüler in die Augen, Augen voller Erfahrungen, die niemand jemals machen sollte. 

Ich lächelte meine Gruppe an und sagte: „Danke! Ich muss Ihnen dazu etwas erklären. Diese Verletzungen passieren mehr oder minder freiwillig. Ich spiele Floorball. Das ist wie Eishockey, nur ohne Eis. Ich spiele für ein Bundesligateam hier in Wien, den WFV. Ich spiele im Tor. Ich wehre Schüsse der gegnerischen Mannschaft ab und benutze dazu meine Hände und stelle meinen ganzen Körper zwischen den Gegner und unser Tor. Ich habe am Dienstag und am Donnerstag Mannschaftstraining und am Wochenende Matches. Nach jedem Training oder Match gehe ich mit diesen Verletzungen nach Hause, aber das ist Teil meiner Aufgabe. Deswegen sehen Sie am Mittwoch und Freitag frische Blutergüsse. Der Ball wird scharf geschossen und ich spiele kurzärmelig. Lange Ärmel sind mir zu heiß.“ Ich deutete nacheinander auf die blauen Flecke. „Nicht im Tor. Nicht im Tor. Nicht im Tor. Das tue ich für mein Team. Weh tut, was man nicht sieht und hinter mir im Tor landet.“

Die Gruppe blickte mich zuerst skeptisch an, dann begannen ein paar der Männer zu lächeln. „Wie ein Fußballtormann!“

​Da ich an dem Tag Training hatte, hatte ich auch meine Ausrüstung dabei. „Wollen Sie meine Ausrüstung sehen?“ Natürlich. Die Stunde wurde zu einer Diskussionsrunde über Leistungssport, eine Schülerin erzählte, dass sie Weltmeisterschaften geschwommen war und einer der Männer hatte in seiner Heimat vor dem Krieg als Profi Fußball gespielt. Ich lud alle zu unserem nächsten Match ein.
​

Am Ende der Stunde wollte sich die Gruppe bei mir entschuldigen.

Ich sagte meinen Schülern Folgendes: „Entschuldigen Sie sich niemals, niemals dafür, dass Sie einen anderen Menschen auf Verletzungen angesprochen haben. Niemals. Sie wissen nicht, was im Hintergrund ist und Ihre Worte können ein Leben verändern. Schauen Sie hin, sehen Sie. Sprechen Sie. Sie haben mir heute ein großes Geschenk gegeben. Danke, dass Sie mich gesehen haben. Danke, dass Sie den Mut gehabt haben, zu sprechen.“
 
Traut euch, zu sehen.  

Wagt es, zu sprechen.

​Habt den Mut, zuzuhören.
 
Macht den Unterschied. 

I have a lot of fond memories of my time as a teacher, but there was one particular moment, when I was especially proud of my students and their courage. The whole class had decided to confront me about something, they had been witnessing for a few weeks.

Back then I was still teaching German as a foreign language as well as how to read and write. My students were teenagers and adults alike, from different backgrounds and cultures. Some of them a lot older than me, retiring soon, others could have been my own kids. 

One morning, after I had greeted my students, put my coffee mug ceremoniously on my desk – it usually made my students laugh – and was about to begin the lesson, one of the men put his hand up. He seemed nervous. There was tension in the room. I asked him to speak and he said, “Mrs. Otti, this cannot go on like this. We have to speak to your husband. At once.” I was confused and replied, “I am not married.” “Then we have to speak to your boyfriend. This cannot go on like this. We won’t just watch this happening anymore.” Now I was completely confused and said, “I don’t have a boyfriend. I live alone. What is this about?” 
​

The man and a few of the women got up and pointed at my hands and underarms that had bruises all over them. “We will not allow anyone to hurt you like this! This will stop!”

​I took a look at my hands and arms and for the first time I looked at them like someone who did not know my personal background. Indeed. I looked like a woman who had been beaten badly and who had experienced violence. I looked up and met the eyes of each and every single one of my students. Eyes full of experiences. Experiences no-one should ever have to make. 

I smiled at my students and said, “Thank you, every single one of you. I think I need to explain something to you. I play floorball. Floorball is like ice hockey, but we don’t play at a rink, so there is no ice. I play for a team here in Vienna, it is called WFV. We play in the highest league in Austria, the Bundesliga. I am a goaltender. Whenever an opposing player takes a shot at our goal, it is my duty to defend the goal and make a save. I use my hands and arms for that and put my whole body between the opponent and our goal. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, we have our team practices, on the weekends we have our games. That is why I have fresh bruises on Wednesdays and Fridays and after matches. No goaltender leaves a training session or a match without injuries. After practice or a game I walk home with fresh bruises. It is part of my task on the team. The shots are hard. What’s more, I wear a jersey with short sleeves which is unusual for a goaltender. Why? Long-sleeved protective gear just gets unbearably hot.”
​

​I pointed at my bruises, one after the other, “This ball did not find its way behind me into our net. Not in our net. Not in. Saved. The ones that hurt are the ones you cannot see on my skin, for those shots have found their way into our goal.” 
 
At first, they seemed skeptical, but then some of the men lit up and said, “Like a soccer goalie!”

I had team training that day, so I had my goalie gear in my office. I asked my students, if they wanted to take a look at it. Of course. The lesson turned into a discussion about competitive sports. One student revealed that she was a swimmer and had participated in world championships and another student had played as a professional soccer player in his home country before the war had started. I invited all of my students to our game the following weekend. 
​

When the lesson had ended, my students wanted to apologize to me. I interrupted them and said, “Never ever apologize for asking someone, where his or her bruises and injuries come from. Never ever. You don’t know, what the man, woman or child in front of you has experienced. Your words can change a life. Look and see, what is there. Speak up. Listen. Every single one of you has given me a great gift today. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for having the courage to speak up.”
 
Dare to see. Dare to speak. Dare to listen.

​Dare to be the difference. 

Kreise öffnen sich, Kreise schließen sich und doch haben sie keinen Anfang und kein Ende. Zeit verliert ihre Bedeutung, jedes Ende birgt einen neuen Anfang, alles, das beginnt, findet seine Vollendung, um neu zu entstehen. Kreise wachsen, ziehen sich zusammen, gerade so, wie es dem Augenblick gefällt.

​Jedes deiner Lächeln, jede deiner Taten, findet ihren Weg zurück zu dir, im ewigen Kreislauf, wenn die Zeit dafür gekommen ist und sich deine Erfahrungen in Weisheit verwandeln. Das Wissen, um die Freude, die du in andere Leben gebracht, das Wissen, um den Schmerz, den du verursacht hast, dein Herz erreicht. 
​

Wenn wir uns versammeln und uns gemeinsam in einem Kreis gegenübersitzen, einander in die Augen schauen und im Lächeln der anderen ihre Schönheit und Einzigartigkeit erkennen, kann keine Lüge gesprochen, hinter niemandes Rücken Falschheit verbreitet und niemand ausgeschlossen werden. Keinem ist es gegeben, dich kleiner zu machen, niemand kann dein Licht zum Erlöschen bringen. Das Lied deines Herzens erklingt klar und deutlich, wenn dir das Wort gegeben ist, und wenn du den Worten der anderen Herzen zuhörst, ihre Herzen singen hörst, wirst du der Gaben gewahr, die jedes Herz in diese Welt bringt. 
 
Mein Lernen führt mich hinter die Schleier, die über der materiellen Ebene liegen, in verschiedene Welten und Ebenen hinter unserem Bewusstsein. Ich werde oft zu Reisen in die Anderswelt gerufen. Jede Begegnung mit Geistwesen ist ein Geschenk, das neue Erfahrungen und Lernen mit sich bringt, manchmal eine Prüfung, während der man sich selbst begegnen darf, etwas über sich erfährt, das bis zu diesem Punkt auf dem eigenen Weg verborgen war oder man selbst tief in den eigenen Schatten begraben hatte. 

Nicht lange, nachdem mir das Geschenk zuteilgeworden war, Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq und Gayle Crosmaz während einer Zeremonie in Salzburg, die unter dem Zeichen von Neuanfängen und Neubeginn stand, zu begegnen, mit ihnen zu sprechen und ihnen zuhören zu dürfen, wurde ich wieder gerufen, eine Reise zu machen.

​Angaangaq hatte uns in Salzburg von der ungeheuren Kraft des Kreises erzählt, von seiner Bedeutung in den verschiedenen Traditionen und unter Schamanen. Seine Worte hatten mich tief berührt. 
​

​Ich begab mich in die Anderswelt und fand mich in einer Native American Siedlung wieder. Dort war ich schon oft gewesen und kannte sie mittlerweile sehr gut. An diesem Ort versammelt sich der Rat der Schamanen - so nenne ich ihn zumindest. Die Schamanen, die sich dort treffen, versammeln sich in ihrer reinen Lichtform. Einige von ihnen kenne ich, manche sind inkarniert und erfüllen auf der materiellen Ebene ihre Aufgaben, andere beobachten, träumen und unterrichten in der Anderswelt. 
​
Der Älteste des Rates begrüßte mich lächelnd, als ich den Ratsplatz inmitten der Siedlung betrat, legte mir seine linke Hand auf die rechte Schulter und sprach: „Schau! Da ist ein freier Ratssitz. Der, der ihn innehat, ist nicht da. Nimm seinen Platz ein.“ Ich sah mich um und betrachtete die anderen Schamanen, die im Kreis Platz genommen hatten. Ich war verwirrt. Einen Augenblick blickte ich den leeren Ratssitz an, dann sagte ich: „Das ist nicht mein Platz und ich werde ihn nicht einnehmen. Er gehört einem anderen.“ Dann begriff ich, wessen Ratssitz es war und woher meine Verwirrung stammte. Er gehörte einem Schamanen, dem ich nicht nur auf der materiellen Ebene sehr oft begegnet war, sondern gleichermaßen oft in seiner Lichtform in der Siedlung in der Anderswelt gegenübergestanden hatte, wenn der Rat zusammengetreten und ich gerufen worden war.

Der Älteste sprach: „Er hat dich verletzt und ist nicht mehr hier. Er ist von seinem Weg abgekommen. Nimm seinen Platz ein!“ Ich weigerte mich erneut. „Das ist sein Platz, ungeachtet dessen, was geschehen oder nicht geschehen ist.“

Ich trat einen Schritt zurück und ließ einen Kristall aus reinem Licht entstehen. Ich legte den Lichtkristall vor den leeren Ratssitz und sagte: „Das ist ein Kristall aus reinem Licht, ein Leuchtfeuer. Er wird ihn zurück nach Hause an seinen angestammten Platz führen. Dieser Ratssitz ist nicht der meine. Einem anderen zu nehmen, was das Seine ist, ist nicht mein Weg. Es ist sein Platz und sein Weg wird ihn hierher zurückführen.“ Kaum war ich einen Schritt von dem leeren Ratssitz zurückgetreten, erschien der Schamane in seiner Lichtform. Er nahm Platz und lächelte mich an. Ich nickte ihm zu und wandte mich um.

Der Älteste legte seine Hände auf meine Schultern, blickte mir in die Augen und begann zu lächeln. Der Kreis der Schamanen wuchs um uns herum, wurde größer und ein leerer Platz tat sich in seiner Mitte auf. Der Älteste sagte: „Ein Kreis ist immer so groß, wie es notwendig ist, so klein wie nötig. Er wächst, wie es der Augenblick bedarf. Niemals ist es von Nöten, den Platz eines anderen mit Gewalt an sich zu reißen, jemanden aus Wut und Zorn zu verstoßen oder seinen Sitz aus Eifersucht zu rauben.“ Er wies auf den neu entstandenen Ratssitz. „Das ist der deine. Nimm Platz!“

​Das tat ich. 

Circles bear a powerful meaning. They have no beginning and no end. Time is of no significance to them for they are everlasting, growing bigger and smaller as needed and every end is a new beginning at the same time.

​Everything you do and give out, returns to you in one way, shape or another, for every deed is the beginning of a circle and it will return to you at one point on your path, so you are able to understand and learn the lesson behind it. The joy you brought, the pain you caused. 
​

​When you are gathering and sitting in a circle, you are able to see each other clearly, no lie can be spoken, no word uttered behind your back. No-one is able to belittle you or dim your light.

​You look into each other’s eyes and you know the soul. The song of your heart can be heard loud and clear, when it is your turn to speak. And when it is your turn to listen, you will hear the songs of the other hearts, recognizing their beauty and uniqueness, the gift they bring.
 
A lot of my learning takes place on the other side of things, beyond the material world, behind the veils. I am often called to go on journeys and travel through the spirit realms. Each encounter with other beings bears a gift of learning, some are trials during which you get to know a part of yourself that was hidden from you until that point on your path or you yourself buried deep inside in your shadows. 
​

​Shortly after receiving the gift of meeting Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq and Gayle Crosmaz during a weekend ceremony about new beginnings amidst chaos in Salzburg, and listening to Angaangaq telling us about the meaning and the power and strength of circles, I was called on another journey.

I found myself in a Native American settlement. I had been there many times before. It is the place where the council of shamans gathers. It is what I call them. There are shamans who are pure light. Some of them I know, some of them are incarnated right now, others observe, dream and teach in the spirit realms.  
 
When I arrived, I was greeted by the eldest shaman, who smiled at me and put his left hand on my right shoulder. He said: “Look, there is an empty seat. The one it belongs to, is not here. Take it!” I took a look around at the other shamans that were sitting in a circle and got confused. I looked at the opening in the circle and said: “No, it is not my seat to take, it belongs to someone else.” Then I realized whose seat is it was. The shaman’s who I had met in the material realm many times and whom I had met in his light form in this settlement just as often. The Eldest said: “He hurt you and is no longer here. He has lost his way. Take his seat.” I refused again. “This is his seat, no matter what did happen or did not happen.”

I took a step away from the Eldest and created a crystal of pure light. I placed it in front of the empty seat and said: “This is a crystal of light, a beacon. It will guide him home to his seat. It is not mine to take but his to return to.” Then I took a step back. The moment I had taken the step back, the shaman appeared in his light form, took his seat and smiled at me.  I nodded at him, then I turned around to face the Eldest.

​He placed both his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye and smiled. Then the circle of shamans grew bigger and suddenly there was an empty space. The Eldest said: “A circle is always as big as needed or as small as necessary, it can grow as need be. There is no need to take anyone’s seat by force or violence, take one away in anger or steal one in jealousy.” He pointed at the new seat. “This is yours. Take it.”

​And I did.