Mima's Father: escort  in Alps Holiday


Bamberg, night of the magicians, magic night. 14 magical hours: the voyage from Munich to Bamberg in the soft surfing Red Goldfish, my little Volkswagen, world wonder town Bamberg, the seductive sweetness of this cosy summer night.

Impostors, jesters, artists, musicians, juggler, living Garden Dwarfs populate Old Bamberg City with these picturesque houses, hundred of years old.

Mima meets old friends in Bamberg, where she grow up with her two brothers, her sister and parents. Mima's 80 years old father we drive from Bamberg to Lake Kochelsee. From there the old man dares to find his way into his Alps holiday village, 50 Kilometres more.

living Garden Dwarfs

''Summer time
and the living is easy
fish are jumping
and the cotton is high''

Sweet melodies in mind my mood grows with the wheat into relaxed happiness of joyful acceptance. Week end of the magicians, magical night. My feelings from all the experiences around: unfinished troubles boil up - higher and higher each years, we come closer to death.

Unresolved challenges grow and grow, till the body feels pain somehow and somewhere.

Either we solve our life's burden, or we perish with some painful glimpse., that this life chance was lost. Maybe next life will be better. There is no future, because there's nothing but presence. Either this presence we change into a blissful awakening or we suffer in a dumb complaining pain. It's all up to you, it's all up to me. This very moment, because there is no other. 

Mima sleeps already in her store room for her Christmas Market, filled with candles, smelling incense and oil. The summer night is so sweet, warm and tender like caressing a woman.

This earth of my homeland is soaked with blood, sweat and tears, this earth is soaked with a caressing care too.

White wine so sweet like the night. The magical connections towards the ''Great Source of All'' stabilizes life with each breath. An infinite journey to the jump over the shore into next paradise orgasm. Pathetic prose.

Week end of the magicians, magical night

Beyond the desert of pain, sorrows and tears an oasis opens up. Lucky ones are pushed over the edge by the grace of existence.

Beyond all words, pictures, sensual sensations an ocean of well being is, ready to support life stream in each and every cell, in infinite delight.

These fingers are bound to dance the night away on this minimal keyboard of an antique palm top.

Cascades of words connects with a kissing cleaning stream lovers in cyber space, in thoughts, a communion of Great Guidance from far, far above, beyond little ant minds. Thanks this summer night of the magicians teaches to share love.

Sleep comes on camping mattress in Mima's incense smelling garage, her store room, sleep comes likes an exciting adventure of kissing bliss, just the contrary of the sick fantasies of horror movies threatening media neurosis. 

Sleep invites into a relaxed wonder world, to digest all day light magic into new, better insights of tender peace and love. Thank you, to be with me tonight. Thank you, thank me, thank everyone.

Thanks this summer night of the magicians teaches to share love.

Sunday moon enlightens the mysterious Lake Kochelsee. The mellow moon wanders over the mountain Herzogstand. Mima sleeps, I share my joy.

Kabir like many others feels disappointed after a while. Kabir, the old Master of attacks, is tired to analyse faults of awful miserable group members.

All attacks never changed anyone in Kabir's expected direction. Maybe Kabir protects his reputation better by his retreat into silent isolation?

So Kabir's sites are not more online for the public. Otherwise he threatens my life and energy with costly consequences. Kabir hates it, when his wishes and expectations don't develop the way, he wants. Maybe he is afraid, to risk his authority as ''energy free one inch below the navel'' Zen-Saint? Has anyone asked in our group gathering for a teacher? A teacher of parody?

Or are most people in groups looking for a little bit love, respect and attention? When expectations are bound to fail, in consequence people leave their groups in disgust?

The mellow moon wanders over the mountain Herzogstand. 

From this point these mischievous ones look at each other from silent isolation and wait, how the strange friend has to suffer severe sickness and dull death?

The winner of this competition in jealousy has the honor to bite the dust first? The grumpy looser in bitterness enjoys the ''survival of the fittest''?

Fit like Living Kabir from Hartz IV money? Around 200 till 250 Euros a month for the fittest fast fight to survive in a boiling summer flat above 30 degrees Celsius?

What else can be done, than to leave those people in sweating summer solitude alone? When ten, twenty, fifty invitations for little sunny summer excursions have never been accepted, ''because so much work has to be finished first!?'' What can be done more?

Gurdjieff in his scriptures always has warned to avoid hysterical women and men, suffering from hemorrhoid disease. Gurdjieff must have some experiences with these sick persons.


''because so much work has to be finished first!?''

What more can be attempted, but to share simple life facts? Best with colored pictures? The beauty of simple life in this marvelous wonder world is to much, to keep it for myself. Mimamai, my daughter, friends extend this delight of being together in one life. Different aspects enrich our similar experiences, isn't it?

A new toy documents my little love excursions in our wonder world: the camera Fuji FinePix S 5500 with optical 20 x zoom. One 512 Mbytes Card stores about 800 pictures. With an inbuilt voice recorder it's possible to comment pictures. In this way I can overview better all abundance of miracles, our Great Mother Earth offers for those, who are willing to want.

Mima and I sleep like we started seven years ago again in her old Blue Whale. The night is flooded from silver shining moon over the mountains and Lake Kochelsee.

Times of my pest provoking quarrels fade away. The ones, who left our little group like Gene Poole, Don James, Melody, Veet Tom, Devayana, Jeffeji or Kabir, may they enjoy themselves or may they share in groups like sannyas-list-new or GuruRats. Who cares?


The beauty of simple life in this marvelous wonder world is to much, 
to keep it for myself. 

Tired again another chapter is closed. From somewhere arises the feeling, the less written the more happiness fills these days! 

Don't feel silenced by this statement! On the other side there are days to dive deeper into sweet seductive sharing. A juicy net of togetherness grows in all individual failure and futile failing. 

An lovely acceptance of oneself and others arise, when the valley of quarrels is crossed some day.

Silence and Good Byes are as welcome as anything else, sharing of an overflowing heart is the best. My taste, my joy, my aim, my claim.

Thank you, to make this possible and still going strong, sometimes growing, other times shrinking. So what?

Good night.


sometimes growing, other times shrinking