The birth rate is falling. Everyone talks about money and housing. That is true. Still, it does not get to the core. The Core Is Fear People are not having children because they can no longer imagine the future. Because they believe they must be perfect to be parents. Because one mistake today is enough to be disqualified. That is how it feels. It suffocates. What I have learned as a person of faith: God forgives. God even wants us to make mistakes, so that we learn from them. That is not a weakness. That is the ground on which a person can live at all. ...

Herbert Kickl is calling for a “healthy slap” for children. The adjective is a rhetorical trick. It is meant to turn violence into medicine. As if there were a sick slap and a healthy one. As if the boundary between discipline and abuse were a matter of dosage. It is not. Children can never help it. They do what parents, surroundings, and culture have taught them. Every “difficult” behaviour in a child is a message about the system in which it lives. ...

I write this not from theory. I was a victim long enough to know what that feels like from the inside. And I have myself oppressed — made people feel small, relieved myself at their expense, passed on the burden that lay on me. Both belong to me. Neither is to be glossed over. Today I am free. Or more precisely: I am on the way. I am trying to be a warrior of light, in Coelho’s sense — that is, someone who falls, rises again, doubts, keeps going. Not a hero. A practitioner. ...

Things a machine does not have, or that only work with a living counterpart. Having a heart. Giving real hope. Reading between the lines. Irony. Standing together. Good will. Accumulating experience through the same task — like the old mechanic who knows exactly where to strike the hammer because he has worked on that engine for thirty years. The point that occupies me most was the last one. I have been working for a while with people in addiction and mental crisis. My anchor there is nothing I learned in a training program. ...

The ancients built upward: roads, houses, knowledge, peace. We inherited it. That deserves respect. Today we have everything. Information. Choice. Comfort. Stimulation without end. And we lose: depth. Quiet. Space in the mind. Whoever has everything must learn to have nothing. Jesus went into the desert. Mohammed into the cave. Both had nothing for a while. Only then came what we know them for. In the emptiness the gaze becomes clear. Without noise one hears what is one’s own. Without possessions the hands are free. ...

Mania and depression. Day and night. Light and shadow. For a long time I fought against one of the poles. I believed one was my enemy. I believed I had to choose. Today I know better. Freedom comes first. It is the first thing we receive — from God, from life, from what carries us. With it I decide every day how I live with both poles. One choice: to lose oneself in one pole. To identify with it. To take it for the whole truth. To fight against the other. ...

I was never good at staying in the lane. My mind constantly draws connections that are simply not foreseen within the lane. Theology and geopolitics. Music and spirituality. Austrian narrowness and global thinking. This was often read as unreliability. As if “staying focused” were a synonym for “seeing less far.” I grew up in a conservative culture. Austria maintains its forms. That has its value — continuity, depth, rootedness. But it also costs something: whoever thinks laterally pays for it. With isolation. With the feeling of never quite belonging. ...

It was a hard day. Someone I love was transferred to a more intensive psychiatric ward. I was there. There was trust. That is enough to say. The Scene At a door. My hand. A sentence, quietly: “They will do you good.” Trust had found a way through the storm. What I felt in that moment: love. Simple. Complete. Fear too, yes — but the courage was greater. And the courage came from the fear that someone would experience what I had to experience. ...

You understand her. Really. You see what shaped her, where her wounds sit. You can predict her reactions before they happen. That feels like love. It is love too. But it is a love with a blind spot. Understanding as a Trap The blind spot is not understanding itself. It is the confusion of understanding with taking away burden. Understanding can also mean: I see what hurts you — and I say it anyway. Understanding can demand. If it does not demand, it is not understanding. Then it is conflict avoidance disguising itself as understanding. ...

The person wants to be good. The compass sits in the heart. The sensitive person especially. They do not want to hurt — and that is exactly what makes them small. They swallow, they adapt, they wait. And yet the opposite is true: whoever sets no boundaries is not authentic. They are merely polite. Setting boundaries requires the shadow. Whoever knows only their light cannot say no — because the no comes from the dark part, the one that can also fight, that can also protect. Getting to know one’s own shadow and allowing it is not a defeat. It is the precondition for real boundaries. And for real authenticity. ...