The Sermon

Day 24. Sunday. Gut Nisdorf.

Woke at 4 with a word in my head. Ziel. Objective. One word, nothing more. The body filed it and went back to sleep.

Up at 5:35. Exercises. Then out.

The night had rained. The air still held it — that particular stillness after rain when the ground has taken what it needed and the atmosphere has nothing left to prove.

Cloudy. The sun already above the horizon but hidden. I walked the road that runs between the Bodden and the rapeseed fields. The rapeseed was starting to turn yellow.

Then the sun came through. Not fully — just the rays, angled through a gap in the cloud cover. The kind of light old painters reached for when they needed to show something arriving. I did not stop walking.

The Bodden could be heard — soft rippling waves, distant. The winding road between water and field.

I was about to turn back toward Gut Nisdorf when three large white birds appeared. Flying in sync, south/southeast, purposeful. Gone before I could name them.

A Sunday. The sermon had already been given.

Biodynamic: Fruit moving toward Root. Wake-up feel: 7.