Between Me and the Others

There are these two voices within us – yes, not only within us, but also in society.
One whispers: „Take care of yourself. Go to the sauna. Breathe deeply again. Just be you for a moment – without expectations, without roles, without this constant feeling of having to function. If you love yourself, nothing else matters. Be free, free yourself from everything that binds you.“
The other one calls out: „You are needed. Be there for others. Get involved. Do this volunteer work. Don't be selfish, but give your life meaning.“

Both voices are right. And both are inhumane in their one-sidedness.

Man becomes I through Thou.

Martin Buber, religious philosopher and mystic, summed it up in a sentence that still resonates today: "Man becomes an I through the Thou."„
Not: first the self, then the other. And not: first the other, then the self. Rather: both arise together, in conversation or encounter.

What we lose when we isolate ourselves is not only the connection to others – it is also a piece of our own vitality. And what is lost when we only have duty and sacrifice is not only our own strength and longing – it is also our capacity for genuine encounter.

Spirituality can be a guiding principle in everyday life. Religions have their role precisely here: on the one hand, to be ethically and socially active, shaping our relationships – and on the other hand, to nurture our inner foundation, to orient ourselves towards the transcendent (God, the divine), and to integrate the divine mystery. Both belong together. A spirituality that leads only inward and forgets the world becomes hollow. An ethic that only pushes outward and neglects the inner foundation burns out.

We usually wait too long – and let ourselves be torn between self-care and obligations. Pausing here is not an emergency measure, but a way of life.

The Kiva of Life: Returning to Encounter Through Withdrawal

Some Indigenous traditions of North America feature the kiva—a circular space sunk into the earth, serving as a place of reflection, purification, and spiritual renewal. One descends into the depths, into the womb of Mother Earth, into darkness, into silence. The kiva was not a place of escapism. Indigenous peoples knew daily life with its hardships, injustices, beauty, and burdens. The descent into the depths was for the purpose of gathering strength. Then, after a time of reflection, meditation, and retreat, one returns to the light via a ladder, so that one can stand upright once more in the world. (adapted from: Steven Charleston: Ladder to the Light. An Indigenous Elder's Meditations on Hope and Courage, 2019)

The cross as a symbol of the connection between heaven and earth - and the world.

What the Kiva means to indigenous traditions finds a parallel in the Christian tradition in the image of the cross:
In the vertical beam, we connect heaven and earth – we are aligned with the foundation of our lives, with that which sustains us. In the horizontal beam, we connect with others, with the outside world, with that which needs us.

And in the middle of both bars: the heart.
„Love your neighbor as yourself“ (Mark 12:31) – this is not a choice between two options. Nor is it: first one, then the other. It means the integration of both poles.

I need others to know myself. And they need me.
I need silence to rediscover myself and grow.