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What eventually dies

It's been a while. How are you?


Four years ago I was demonstrating on the streets of Madrid, with Greta and 500,000 others, all believing a better world was possible. I remember those days as really hopeful winter days, with a sweet scent of good changes in the air.


But what are good changes?


If I had fallen into a long coma back then, I would have missed a pandemic, several wars, and a midlife crisis. Climate justice? I would have missed a Tesla invasion and more poison in the seas. I would have missed the normalisation of witnessing weapon propaganda on the children's channel of the German TV. I would have missed peace activists becoming right-wing conspiracy theorists, and former left-wing pacifists supporters of nuclear threats.


I would have missed rivers of tears, gorgeous sunsets and paralysing fears. I would have missed genocides and a freedom fighter forgotten behind bars. I would have missed being in love and nursing a broken heart, would have missed my mother almost dying and my father continuously lying. I would have missed people with masks & vaccine passes queuing to watch Matrix.


I would have missed studying the beautiful stars.


Sleeping while the madness is seeping into all the cracks. No going back, the cruel and wonderful past is dead. Machines are here, replacing more and more human touch with a screen, replacing questions with answers and hopes with desperate dreams. Have I missed the revival of intuition? Or the fall from grace?


Truth is, I haven't fallen into a coma, even though at times it feels like it. The Earth keeps spinning and with it all our joys and sorrows, the ups and downs and merry-go-rounds. I pray for the people who suffer because others play power games, I'm saddened beyond words about what's happening in Gaza and so many other places around the globe. There are no excuses. And yet, despite all misery and hardship, and from my privileged perspective under bombless skies, I wouldn't want to change this life.


There's no goal to reach or wound to hide.

I'm here – embracing the fullness of the ride.


Reflecting over the last months & years, and reciting Clare Martin, here's what I've learned:


What eventually dies is our need to heal ourselves.



The sea, the sun and the stars



Logo of Claus Mikosch - writer, astrologer, filmmaker




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