So here we are, in one place, and it does me a great deal of good. Day by day I feel lighter. A sense of security rises in me. Trust takes shape. A bond is growing. Much is still new, and with that, exciting. Everywhere there is something to discover. We had constancy in movement, but here too there is movement. A new kind, with a different quality. I am glad that we are here and no longer on the road.

I love being outdoors, especially in these beautiful surroundings with all the wide fields where barley, rye, and wheat grow. Or in the woods with the sweet scent of pine needles and the dense leaves of the deciduous trees, which rustle like little bells when the wind passes through them. Ah yes, the wind, which also turns the fields into a sea of waves as it glides gently over them.

I love this season and use sunny days to be out in nature, on foot or by bicycle. And it is always lovely when the weather plays along, of course. But the weather is moody. A few warm, sunny days are followed by cold and rainy ones. Yet even in the rain it is beautiful, if only it weren't for this cold.

When I was young I played sports, everything we could think of. Almost always, competition and the will to win were at the forefront. Simply moving for the joy of it was never motivating, until I discovered hiking. That opened my eyes to an entirely different kind of experience. I refined it during our travels in France. Ever since, enjoyment has come first.

When I am out on a hike and take two hours for four kilometers, what matters is not the time in which I covered the distance, but the intensity with which I experienced my surroundings. Every step counts. No performance in the movement, none that tends toward comparison with others anymore. On the contrary, pure non-comparison. It is about the experience in the moment, the opening of the senses to the surroundings, the scents and sounds, the tones and colors, the abundance and density of the natural world.

I do this for myself, not for others and not against others. When I want to stop at a certain spot to take in the breadth and abundance of the landscape and to savor the looking, then I do it. How long I stand there is of no importance. Although it is, for the longer I can soak something in and savor it, the better. What counts after a hike like that is not the measurable values such as distance and time, it is the feeling of abundance and happiness, of the moment fully lived.