Note: The first part of this story can be read at https://connecting-the-dots.eu/the-mystical-path/
Part 14, THE SINS OF THE WORLD
When we organize a week-long retreat to prepare for our ceremony in Turkey this fall, only one participant actually shows up. I’m disappointed and frustrated; I compare myself to colleagues who manage to bring together large groups and can’t understand what’s wrong. “The people who are there are the right people,” is the first rule of Open Space—but come on, just one? Fortunately, he’s a wonderful participant whom I’ve known for years: Tim from Belgium. Over the past twenty years, he’s participated in various groups: men’s workshops in Orval, Mary Magdalene Festivals in the Cathar region and in Spain—and I’m particularly fond of him.
“Maybe Tim and I will go for a walk,” I tell Anne. Anne is less bothered by it than I am. She needs her time for translations and promoting her book A Feminine Answer to Crisis.
“Keep it small and precise,” she reminds me, quoting one of my own channelings. The project in Turkey doesn’t call so much for large groups and grand gestures, but rather precision and careful alignment. The more we delve into the mythological stories and background of the region we plan to visit, the more we realize it’s a complex and challenging area.
While the Climate Conference—COP31—is taking place in Antalya, we want to travel with a group to eastern Turkey: to the 9th-century B.C. temple of Göbekli Tepe, to Lake Van, where the ancient capital of Urartu is located, and to Mount Ararat, the mountain where Noah landed with his ark. But the more we read about the history of this ancient region—which lies at the very roots of our Western civilization—the more we get depressed: an unbroken history of strife, wars, and genocides. It all began with the city-states of ancient Sumer and Babylonia. It’s just like Game of Thrones. One city attacks another, slaughters the men, and enslaves the women, and a few decades later, the struggle takes place in the opposite direction.
This seems to continue right up to the present day: In the last century, there was the Armenian genocide; in 2014, the genocide against the Yazidis, in which many women in particular were raped or trafficked into sexual slavery; the wars in Iraq and Kuwait, the conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia, the uprisings in Iran, the civil war in Syria, the conflict between the Kurds and the Turks, the persecution of the Jews, the genocide against the Palestinians, and the current war between Iran and the U.S. Will it never end?
That’s what I ask myself as well when we’re preparing for the week. I really don’t feel like doing this anymore. “Why do you always choose such difficult topics?” a close friend asks with concern.
I’m starting to doubt myself and our work. Maybe she is right. Maybe I should take it easy. But I’m also reminded of a concept from Tibetan Buddhism: “Tonglen.” It involves consciously taking on another person’s suffering and thus practicing compassion. You bear the pain for the other person, and this leads to enlightenment. In the poem “The Seven Delights,” this is expressed as follows:
When Samsara torments me with pain and suffering, Instead of wallowing in self-pity, I take on a greater burden to journey along the Great Path. I let myself be guided by compassion, by taking on the suffering of others. When the consequences of Karma reveal themselves: Joy!
In the Western Gnostic tradition, we know this from the Latin phrase “Agnus Dei, qui tollit peccata mundi”: “The Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” It is the conscious taking upon oneself of suffering, just as Christ did for the world. That sounds bizarre and contradictory in this day and age and in a culture where we usually seek pleasure and happiness. We want to be rid of all misery and pain. Certainly in New Age culture, the focus is on “how can I feel good?” and on “seven paths to happiness, enlightenment, success, ecstasy, and pleasure.” ’ We have an aversion to what is painful, difficult, and dark.
Strangely enough, in my own life I’ve come to know the exact opposite. Not so much out of a noble intention, but because I had no other choice. As a young child, I could sense the pain and emotions of others. It drove me crazy, until I started leading workshops. At age 24, I led my first men’s workshop, and to my surprise, I felt an enormous sense of relief. By helping others confront their pain, I myself experienced immense relief. A kind of win-win situation.
Through my work in the Gaza Strip, “bearing suffering” was taken to a whole new level. The pain I experienced there was overwhelming, but so was the ecstasy. I experienced a deep love of the soul that has never left me. But over the last three years, the collective pain has become unbearable. The only thing that brought relief was that more and more people worldwide were facing up to the suffering of the Gazan people and began to “carry” it with them. In the Netherlands, this led to three Red Marches, in which a total of about 500,000 people participated.
Since the so-called “ceasefire” in January 2026, however, we’d reached our limit—the media, the public, and myself. The killings continued unabated, and when I spoke with Haneen, a friend from Gaza, she said, “I have no words left.” Her father had been murdered just moments before. “Neither do I,” I agreed. Our conversation fell silent, and I noticed the same unnatural silence among other friends from Gaza.
“Could it be that you’re suffering from trauma?” a colleague asked me during the men’s summit a few weeks ago. “That the pain has become too much?” I looked inward and began to realize that he was right. In bearing the pain of the people in Gaza—for more than 20 years now—I had become traumatized myself. I recognized various physical symptoms, such as fatigue, stress, silence, depression, and so on. And more and more often, I’d say to Anne, “I need a vacation.” Apparently, the Tonglen method wasn’t up to the task of dealing with genocide. And neither was I.
“Thank God we only have one participant,” I finally sighed to Anne. “And with Tim, I can make plenty of room for my own process….”
- To be continued –
