Trust in the goodness of life

Not everything works well in beautiful India. But that's kind of good for me! Stone slab and floor: BEFORE Stone slab and floor: AFTER For a few weeks now, I've regularly had a pack of razor blades with me, e.g. to scrape paint stains off the floor in temples. This works very easily on smooth surfaces and since the painters apparently rarely mask anything in their work, there are many opportunities to scratch away paint stains. Although the skin on my fingertips is constantly slightly cut, this is a small problem. Honestly, this work is very satisfying because you see beautiful results quickly and you have beautified a meaningful place.   I meditate more and more often while scratching color spots: Just as one can see the inner impure spots and experience their disappearance with the help of Vipassana, I would like to discover outer impurities, consciously perceive them and see them disappear.   Most scratching is done anonymously; sometimes people get it. Some then watch with...

It's not just the zipper on the beautiful, embroidered neck pouch that's torn, the cord has also been torn off.   Thank goodness one can find a tailor in almost every town. Often they still use cast-iron sewing machines with foot pedals and flywheels.   The quiet man sits behind one of these. He nods his head for me to bring him the bag. He has a calm-gentle-beautiful charisma. However, and it looks strange, to right lens of his glasses has a big crack.   While he deftly sets about repairing the neck pouch, I think the cracked lens can't be good. This could possibly trigger new visual defects or cause headaches or ... Actually, I didn't want to think negatively, but here a problem is obvious. The good man has already finished with the neck pouch. He did a good job. His reward - he asks nothing. But I still give him something. He willingly tries on my glasses – his face brightens surprisingly. He accepts it and I'm glad to be able to help someone so...

It sounds hard to imagine, but it's true: I don't worry about places to sleep anymore.   Sleeping place: Below one big plastic tarp, a yoga mat  on top, there between a  thin blanket. Vestis serve as bed sheets -  in the back a small pillow. Every night there is a temple, a school, a public building where I can sleep safely, well and deeply.   Sometimes wealthier people invite me to their homes. But I feel that such nice and quite comfortable invitations are somehow a burden. Is it a secret fear in the hosts or in me that their trust becomes abused? Or is it the different cultural expectations of such a foreign guest?   Honestly, sleeping outside on my mat is great. The only important thing is that it is neither too cold nor too hot. If there is a water tap somewhere nearby or a place to swim – great.   Sometimes people warn me that thieves might steal something in the night. Yeah... that's happened before. But - oh, I'm tired of imagin...

  Bijapur is now called Vijajapur again. The city is one of those that are now called the same as they were before English colonial rule. The current government under Prime Minister MODI promotes Hindu self-image. On the one hand, I'm pleased that India can better distance itself from Western influence. But not everyone benefits: many times I have been welcomed as a pilgrim in a Christian institution, but never for long because those responsible face difficulties from the government. I have had no luck at all in Islamic mosques and have always been rejected very quickly with my requests.   The fame of the city is essentially based on its Muslim rule and the many important monuments have corresponding roots. GOL GUMBAZ: Tomb of Sultan Adil Shah I BARA KAMAN: Tomb of Ali Adil Shah II IBRAHIM RAUZA: Tomb of  Adil Shah II The city is still very rich in mosques. On the first evening, XY takes me to a mosque for prayer. While he follows the Muslim traditions, I sit in sile...

Gol Gumbaz, Muslim mausoleum   Hundreds of people flock to the entrance hall of the Gol Gumbaz. The mausoleum consists of a simple interior with four large corner towers.   Strange screams can be heard from the dome. They are created by the echo effect of what was then the fourth largest dome in architectural history.   7-story corner tower The front corner tower serves as an entrance. A large crowd tries to get through a narrow doorway into the stairwell. But it builds up because everyone wants to go in at the same time. A good-natured overseer tries in vain to bring order to the crowd.   Orderly queuing rarely works in India. I myself stand on the "right" side of the queue and watch with a rumbling stomach as people who have just arrived on the wrong side push their way forward again.   It's pressing behind me. A younger girl squeezes between me and the wall. Well, I let it happen without further indignation. Another child squeezes past me ...

Bijapur (Vijayapura) in northern Karnataka: Gol Gumbaz looks modest in photos, but now one can see the gigantic proportions of the mausoleum of the former Muslim ruler Adil Shah I.   I stand in front of the ticket counter and see that the entrance fees for foreigners are 12 times higher than for Indians. This has happened many times on my pilgrimage. And I think that's unfair because...   - ... because in my country the same entrance fees apply to foreigners as to locals (sometimes there are even discounts for them)   - ... because during my German lessons at Max-Mueller-Bhavan (Goethe-Institut) in Bangalore I received only the same hourly rate as the Indian colleagues but often had to pay more than the locals.   - ... because I think 12x more expensive is simply excessively profit-oriented   - ... because 300 rupees instead of 25 rupees is clearly too high for my pilgrim budget.   As often I have stood at such a ticket office on the...

Women before the inauguration of a new house The first evening at the school in this village was very nice: I was given a classroom with a padlock, brought food and drink, organized washing facilities, some special people had interesting questions, the magic was accepted joyfully and in the morning some saw me Children doing yoga and imitating asanas. Now they even invite me to stay another day for the village festival. In the evening, villagers will even put on a theater play about the consequences of negative behavior. Nice, as an educator and teacher I gladly accept this offer. In the morning I watch all kinds of festival preparations in the village. We arrange a larger magic show for the early evening. And the children are informed to join the yoga class and learn the sun salutation the next morning. Around noon I meditate and rest in the classroom. But some children will come up with naughty ideas, push open the door from the outside and run away if I look.   At fi...

Babu and his family have grown dear to me the most along the pilgrimage. Because his place of residence is on the way to the Bodhi Zendo, we decide to visit again.   But upon arriving at his training center, Babu seems only half interested. He is busy with an online payment on the laptop and reacts minimalistically to my joy at seeing him again. It's obvious something is wrong. He even falls asleep with his head on the desk. He admits that he is somewhat ill. I'm sorry. I suspect that he will continue to torment himself selflessly in order to still give me a pleasant stay. I decide not to stay long. He had actually planned another trip with some of his students for the weekend, but no, that won't be a joy. His wife seems a little helpless in this situation. When the daughter comes home from school and also looks shattered, I tell them my decision, better to come back another time and better go now. But they don't accept that. Babu says that he will be fit again to...

  The first pair of sandals I was never comfortable slipping into these sandals. On the left, the bridge between the big toes often blocked. But the feet got used to it and I became thankful for them. I took them twice to the cobbler for 10 rupees and they are still good.   Shortly before Shravanabelagola, for the third time a strap breaks. It could be repaired again, but since people go barefoot anyway at this Jain pilgrimage site Shravanabelagola, I say goodbye. At a memorial I clean them as best I can, thank and bless them and leave them there.   After two days, on the other side of the pilgrimage site, I slip into the new sandals. I can walk in it for half a week, suddenly the skin on both feet chafed under the middle strap. It hurts. I try barefoot again; but in the open country it is sometimes very rocky or there are thorn branches on the way. I stuff some cotton under the critical spots in the sandals, but it only gets worse. Suddenly I remind that there ar...

Small bowls of fruit salad are offered at the roadside. The seller quotes a price at which I instinctively back down. But two men just come up and notice my reaction. The older one smiles and pays for the fruit bowl for me. We make it with the three of us. Meanwhile, the man tells that he is a pastor. I am happy because there are hardly any Christians in this area and I ask to be able to visit his church. The younger one drives me there. When entering the church I am amazed: A huge hall in which there is nothing. Nothing at all. There is a small percussion instrument in the front left corner and the Indian flag is painted on the wall at the front - that's all. Where and how should one experience God here? But as I write, I realize that if you don't know that you have to experience God within yourself, you won't experience God outside of you either. Not even in a nice church. Two hours later, a beautiful church appears on a side road. I turn the corner and look for t...