I was 19 years old when I really fell in love for the first time. He was an alcoholic and several years older than me. He said he did not want to enter into a firm relationship because he did not know how long he would have to live. Young and naive as I was, I believed that I could help him. He got involved in a relationship with me. But after about a year he suddenly declared one day that he had told me straight away that a longer relationship was irresponsible. He had to leave before we got used to each other. By then it had already happened to me – I had grown fond of him despite his alcohol problem.
The break hurt. The mental pain shook me deeply, and my whole attitude towards life was questioned. The love I had for him felt indestructible. But now it was a kind of shambles. This, my greatest crisis in life, led to a lasting transformation.
At first I had to cope with the heartache. I tried to take back my love for the man. It was only in later relationships that I understood that you don’t have to take love back. It is there, or it isn’t. I sank into a phase of mourning that led me to a low point, a total crisis of meaning. I questioned everything, tried to find meaning in everything I perceived in the world and in everything I wanted to do or be myself. Everything stood for me now on an uncertain ground. Up to this point I was an atheist and completely materialistic, I did not believe in God or a higher power. What I had heard from the church I considered unbelievable, even lies.
This state of crisis lasted for many years. First I tried to numb my world-weariness. I could not tolerate alcohol, and I was also warned against it by what I had experienced. While living together in a shared apartment, it happened that a roommate offered me LSD. I decided to try it. It turned out to be a profound experience that I would not recommend. I had told my roommates to look after me as I wanted to stay alone in my room.
The psychedelic effect led to a sensual oversaturation in me, which made me begin to long violently for peace. At a certain point I wanted to get away from the spectacular colour vision and music listening, no matter how fantastic it seemed. I shielded myself as much as possible from all sensory impressions, until I only perceived my breath. I followed it passively, not interfering with its rhythm. Suddenly, like the sensory impressions, it seemed to become less and less, until I waited for the inhalation after an endlessly long feeling of exhalation. The time stretched out until it became eerie. Should I not be able to inhale any more? I tried, but it did not work. I waited and waited till I got scared. Would I die now? Was that all I could expect from life now?
Then one of my fellow-lodgers entered my room to check on me. We exchanged ideas for a moment, then he left. I was astonished, for I had noticed a bright field of light on him, a light which he himself seemed to radiate. This light had a more lasting effect on me than all the other perceptions. The effect of the drug had diminished so that the light was pleasant. It opened something in me. A feeling of truthfulness came in.
The turning-point
The impression of the light did not let go of me. I never took another drug. But from now on I felt the urge to find out what that light was all about. I had never heard of an aura or anything like that before.
I was driven by the question whether the sensual-material world was really everything or whether there were other forms of existence. The question of meaning became existentially important for me. I now wondered whether there could not be God or something divine, whether life was not led by a higher power. At first I came across answers like: “This is a question of faith, you can’t prove anything here.”
But that was not enough for me. Little by little, my life changed: I met other people and began to philosophize with friends. Once I met someone who owned a book by Rudolf Steiner. I read it and was very astonished. A completely different world view came towards me and I had the certain impression that what I read there was not a “question of faith”. There were answers. Then I devoured all kinds of esoteric and spiritual literature. For nine years I absorbed myself in whatever I could find about spiritual teachings and ways. And there was a lot. But reading alone could not be enough in the long run. I developed a need for a complete renewal, for liberation, for merging with the divine, just as many of these writings held out to me. But which of the many paths should I choose? Which was the right one for me? I have never been gullible and so I remained sceptical even now.
Eventually, through a contact in my circle of friends, I came across the group to which I now belong. During my first visit to one of their rooms, I spontaneously became aware with absolute clarity – when one of the lecturers spoke: “The person who is speaking is connected to the source of the truth. This is the source that I seek!” These were the words intuition gave me. I took my partner also to a lecture and he also had a strong intuition, it was: “I am not ready yet”.
I entered into a connection with the spiritual field of the group. Other ways may also be right, but my intuition told me I could trust the one I found. The force field of this group is still a source of inspiration and transformation for me today.
