Direkt zum Hauptbereich

What is sacred?

This is a text, which was first published on Valley Haggards page Life in 10 Minuntes. A great page from a great writer and I always feel proud, when she chooses to publish one of my pieces. The text is about one year old, so dating back to April of 2017, but funny enough, it still is totally true. I am even less moody ūüėė

What is sacred?

I read this headline today. It was the title of an inspiring piece of writing by Linda Laino, a wonderful artist and mutual friend of me and my friends from Richmond. It got me thinking.

What is sacred, for me? 

Deep down, I always knew, that the sacred was everywhere, that it was the underground of human life, of my life in particular.

Still, it was difficult for me to reach. 

At times, I felt, nothing was sacred. And I wasn’t even depressed, at least not diagnosed, ever. I was very moody, though. I accepted it. My moodiness and the impossibility to reach the sacred.

When I first came to Richmond, I joined a poetry group, which was one of the most inspiring and satisfying writing experiences (therefore sacred), I ever had. My friend Susan, at whose house we regularly got together, out in the West End, was on Prozac. She said, it had saved her life. For months, she tried to convince me, moody as I so obviously was, to also take Prozac, or maybe Lithium. Both were supposed to be great. I don’t know, but I was stubborn and German. I felt, my moods were part of me and also a huge lesson. They taught me truth every day. Somehow, my moods were sacred. I did not want to numb them. Since they seemed to reach deep down into my soul, dragging out all that stuff, I dealt with from the past: my alcoholic, suicidal father, my negative, always complaining mother, the fact, that nobody would ever be able to love me, I mean: E V E R!

The moods, arising from all this, plus my tendency to fall for rather complicated and negative men, fed my poems, my writing in general, but also my learning.

O.k., o.k., if anybody would have told me, that it would take about 25 years to get through all this, I might have decided to listen to Susan. I don’t know. I always thought, that the truth was close, basically a days‘ journey away. This faith, it was also sacred and got me through this long journey.

The moods, the ups and also the downs, the tears, the gnawing on the past, the hurt, the pain, the anxiety, the fear, the hysteria, the darkness – they all were sacred, to me. They taught me all I know today, about life and what it’s worth.

They were my path. Sacred. One lesson following the next.

What is sacred?

Maybe to be here, as a human being, capable to learn so much, to feel so deeply. Sacred is also the moment, in which I understood, that the past is the past, now and here, only kindness matters.

In particular are sacred all those moments, I spend on my yoga mat, also the ones with friends, soulmates, my children, the writing moments, they are very sacred, also the meditation. The moments in nature, and of course, travelling.

I started a habit, some years ago, filling a glass jar every year with notes, every time, I felt especially happy. It should be called „the sacred jar“, because in fact, I fill it with notes of all the sacred moments. I have a tendency to establish rules. My rule here is: each time, you put a note in this years‘ jar, you are allowed to take one out from last years‘ jar and enjoy it.

Every note revokes pure bliss. Sacred. 

By the way: I am not moody any more. Not so much, at least. Going through all my moods, not numbing them, was a journey. I am glad, I traveled!

(c) Susanne Becker


Beliebte Texte

This week was no work without an author

This week was, and I do not mean to sound pathetic, but it was not much of a great week.

Nothing happened. Nothing beautiful, at least. The week was not showered in love or even in random acts of kindness.  I feel a little disappointed and tired about this week. You might call me a person with a very low threshold to boredom, and you would be right. I sit and think about all this. I mean, I could be grateful. Nothing happened, after all, also includes: nothing bad happened. My children are well. I am well. I have great friends, a more than o.k. job, I have an apartment in the middle of Berlin, where tons of people would like to live, I am going to Rome next week. But  I am not grateful. I feel a little bit sorry for myself, while I sit and think about the week, and than, I have an idea, which instantly makes it impossible to continue feeling sorry for myself: maybe, this is exactly the point. Me waiting for whatever greatness to happen is the problem. Has been the problem all my lif…

100 bemerkenswerte B√ľcher - Die New York Times Liste 2013

Die Zeit der Buchlisten ist wieder angebrochen und ich bin wirklich froh dar√ľber, weil, wenn ich die mittlerweile 45 B√ľcher gelesen habe, die sich um mein Bett herum und in meinem Flur stapeln, Hallo?, dann wei√ü ich echt nicht, was ich als n√§chstes lesen soll. Also ist es gut, sich zu informieren und vorzubereiten. Au√üerdem sind die B√ľcher nicht die gleichen B√ľcher, die ich im letzten Jahr hier erw√§hnt hatte. Manche sind die gleichen, aber zehn davon habe ich gelesen, ich habe auch andere gelesen (da f√§llt mir ein, dass ich in den n√§chsten Tagen, wenn ich dazu komme, ja mal eine Liste der B√ľcher erstellen k√∂nnte, die ich 2013 gelesen habe, man kann ja mal angeben, das tun andere auch, manche richtig oft, st√§ndig, so dass es unangenehm wird und wenn es bei mir irgendwann so ist, m√∂chte ich nicht, dass Ihr es mir sagt, o.k.?),  und nat√ľrlich sind neue hinzugekommen. Ich habe Freunde, die mir B√ľcher unaufgefordert schicken, schenken oder leihen. Ich habe Freunde, die mir B√ľcher aufgeford…

Hermann Hesse - Das Glasperlenspiel

Es gab Momente, da verstand ich nichts und wollte das Buch einfach beiseite legen.
Das Buch! Das Glasperlenspiel von Hermann Hesse, sein letzter und umfangreichster Roman, sein Alterswerk, erschienen 1943, in zwei B√§nden (ja, das Buch ist sehr dick!). Es lag in meinem Stapel ungelesener B√ľcher, seitdem ich circa 20 war. Ich habe noch die alte, dunkelgr√ľne Suhrkamp Ausgabe. Gekauft in einer Buchhandlung am Opladener Markt, die es schon lange nicht mehr gibt. Begonnen habe ich das Buch gef√ľhlt zehnmal, und immer wieder beiseite gelegt, weil ich einfach nichts verstand. Einmal bin ich bis Seite 100 gekommen, weiter nie. Ich beschloss dann, dass man vermutlich doch alt sein m√ľsste, um es zu verstehen, Alterswerk eben! Jetzt bin ich einigerma√üen alt und ich kann den Erfolg vermelden: Diesmal hab ichs geschafft. Ich bin durch!

„Versenkung und Weisheit waren gute, waren edle Dinge, aber es schien, sie gediehen nur abseits, am Rande des Lebens, und wer im Strom des Lebens schwamm und mit sein…