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Tusknet: 10.3 Falling in Love (30% of Chapter)
Part 1: Opening the Heart
“Find someone who thinks like you, only a little differently enough to make it worthwhile. Then you need only about three words a day to speak, and something entirely new begins.”
The small orange dot was developed and at the same time freed from every development. It meets instinctively, in order to fall in love. From this point it returns to its essence and its soul.
“I let myself fall, and that is all right.”
It is like creative writing. I hardly know what comes out of my hand. It happens before I think about it. I can only trust the process. And when the person is close to me, understanding becomes a fundamental intuitive step. The mind is cleared, the streams are purified, and everything flows into trust. The person passes through the process of falling in love with the mirror person and finds the essential flow of his own life.
Thirteen percent of the world gross social product is generated in the field of religion and consciousness work. Perhaps that is a monetary target for Tusk as a global platform. Much energy is released when a person comes to himself.
“One would have to invent something to keep people under control after religion and capitalism have disappeared.”
The channel of love opens only when people allow the wounds caused by those who should have loved them, but were themselves incapable. For them, criticism was an expression of love. This criticism and suppression keep us from encounter with others and with ourselves. We all need healthy boundaries in order to give ourselves support.
The boundary lies in the channel, the wound that is the access to love. The access to around 300 emotions is a source of energy. To find this access, the person can go through many iterations. A spiral until he arrives at the mirror that needs only three words a day. In this open “I and You” something new is born, and the person feels whole and complete.
The wooden panels represent the programs of AI, the technology that will accompany us on the path of transformation. People develop and fall at the edge of falling in love. They remain at the place untouched by inner fear and are ready to develop a new spirit that connects them with their own flow. To feel love, to love what was, what is, and what will come. Happiness.
A beautiful new way of being together develops, of finding the source of trust for all and for oneself. We have developed something that holds this energy, that lets everything happen because it happens within boundaries. It lifts the risk of crossing or violating the boundaries of others, because we can remain with ourselves. We have arrived at a safe place. Tusk accompanies people, recognizes everything that can lead to pain, and mirrors it back to the human being.
In the center of the image there is a circle (green), like the head and body of a child. It shows how the spirit of a child is influenced by the environment and is reduced in order to adapt. The circles of self-images or models in the orange circles are various parallel realities in which one exists and the other as well. On Tusk the spirit is free to have different perspectives, beyond the given environment. Perhaps a world as shown by art, culture, films, and books. The human can only develop if the environment allows it.
“I lose myself, and that is all right.”
...
Bridge: 10.3 From Falling in Love to Inner Trust
You have touched the wound where love begins. Not romantic but radical, in the gaze at yourself. Now begins the listening. Not outside but in the inner choir. Who speaks there? Who wants to stop you? Who wants to save you?
The inner critic often appears first. Not because he is against you but because he never learned to love you.
📖 Arnold Mindell: The Way Through the Wild River
In process work the critic is not your enemy but part of your wholeness. He protects what was once hurt. He keeps old images that were once vital for survival. He says: "Do not go further, there was pain there once.
The way does not lead around the critic but through him. You can hear him without following him. You can speak with him without fighting him. Sometimes the critic himself carries the key to the next door.
When you are in the middle of the river and the current grows stronger, you do not need a new direction but a new trust." – Mindell, The Way Through the Wild River
📘 Clinton Callahan – Recognizing and Transforming Critical Voices
For Callahan critical voices are often adopted programs: parents, teachers, society. They speak in your voice but they are not you.
You can learn to locate these voices. To hear them as if a part in you had something important to say. Not to destroy you but to protect you from the unknown. But today you may not need this protection anymore.
"You may thank the inner critic and then send him into retirement. He has walked with you for a long time. Now you need something else: presence, clarity, connection." – Callahan, Conscious Feelings, chapter "Inner Voices"
🧭 Exercise 1: Crisis, Conflict, Change and Creativity
Part 1
1. Choose an area where your inner critic is active. For example a current situation today or a chronic inner belittling (performance, appearance, relationship behavior etc.).
2. Act out the inner critic. Play the role and defend it. Educate your inner critic.
3. Which area of your life is the critic’s field of nourishment? And what are your challenges there?
4. Return briefly to the role of the inner critic. This time focus only on the energy. Find a movement. Go further and let go of the content until only the movement expression of the energy remains. Where can you use this in your daily life?
Part 2
Put aside everything above except the area you are currently working on.
1. Close your eyes and drift in a dreamlike way. Notice subtle impulses and what happens. Let the spatial forces move you until you come to a natural stop. Open your eyes, what do you see? Discover how this is a solution for your challenges in life.
💘 Exercise 2: Creating Leadership: Guiding Creativity
Your inner lover
1. Inner or outer critic: Think of the changes you are in, the far-reaching projects you may be involved in. Is there an inner or outer critic you fear on your way toward these changes? What criticism do you most expect or fear (or already suffer from)? Put this aside now. (Sometimes a mood is a sign that a critic is waiting.)
2. A moment of love: Think of a time in your life when you felt loved by someone else – a lover, a friend, a pet, a parent, a divine spirit, a spirit of nature, an element. It may have been a long, intense experience or just a second encounter. Remember that moment. What was it exactly that made you feel loved? Be as concrete as possible to recognize the "quantum flirt" aspect, the essence of the experience.
3. Become the lover: Imagine you are this person or being who loved you. Become this person or spirit. Try a few movements as they would, walk like them, stand like them, or sit like them. What is the tempo, the rhythm of the walk? What is the posture? Imagine the state of mind and energy quality that go with this posture or gait. Try to embody that in yourself.
4. Perspective of the lover: Now as this person or spirit, perceive their stance toward life. How does this being feel about life, the world, people? What can you learn, which parts inspire you? Take notes.
5. See yourself through the eyes of the lover: Stay in this new perspective and look at your everyday self. What do you see or experience when you look through the eyes of the lover? Take time and learn to know yourself through their eyes.
6. Give yourself a tip: From the perspective of the lover, what advice would you give yourself for your next steps in the inner and/or outer change you are in, especially regarding the critic you described in step 1?
7. Live the life of the beloved: Make a plan to implement this advice and enjoy it. Remember to live this plan as a tribute to your lover.
🧭 Daily impulse - Eight questions for today
1. What does the critic in me actually want to protect?
2. Which old voice is speaking and may it learn something new today?
3. What arises when I do not suppress the critic but let him dance?
4. Where does it shine and what do I avoid?
5. Which movement of thought did I feel today but not name?
6. Whom or what do I meet with love today, even though it disturbed me at first?
7. Which three words accompany me through the day? (for example trust – wound – voice)
8. What if I am the mirror myself, speaking little but showing much?
SpiritBook: 30% of the related chapter
Something has shifted. Accusations, until you believe what they tell you. Accusations come from a place of pain. "You’re alive, and my son is dead." My grandmother stands before me, knife in hand. Marlen’s mother didn’t even recognize me when I visited her in 2014.
Accusation - The dictionary defines it as a reproach for behavior or action. It contains an allegation, the claim that someone did something wrong or undesirable. It seeks to assign guilt, to judge, to attack.
These accusations are the knife Anna O. pointed at me. Last year, she left it hanging in the air during the performance. This year, she made it clear she was speaking to herself. I wonder if the play has changed, or if I simply hear more now - now that I feel safe, now that the accusation no longer follows me into the night. I can leave behind the accusation of my first life, because in my third life I encountered the eyes of Dalia, Rachel, and Marla.
In the first life, it was my mother and younger brother’s accusation: "What did you do to our father? You’re a murderer. You deserve to die." I intensify the moment - my mother’s eyes and my brother’s fear of me.
That was 1985, when I really was 19. In 2004, my then-girlfriend from China pointed a gun at my chest and screamed, "I want to have this contract." Marriage - she wanted to get married. I disappeared again and, with Nicola’s support, began a new journey in 2005.
Once again, I’m 19. And it’s the encounter with Dalia that changes everything: To mean something, to matter, to count, to prepare, to be of consequence. The word is precise.
In the top right corner of "textbodytext," it was still about non-being. It was the wounds, the scars, that spoke. "The speech as a living being" - words as independent carriers of meaning. I offer up the words.
"The outburst" had hurt Dalia last night, scared her, driven her to withdraw. My outburst from 1985 - it no longer exists. And I am free. My defiance in 2004 - a no to marriage - and I am free.
We can view everything from different angles. And I take responsibility - for myself as perpetrator. Above, I was still a victim of the Germans. Now I’ve become the perpetrator.
(Lane Ayre, 2016 and 2024. From Victim to Perpetrator.)
September 15 Last night I dreamed so much. I woke up twice because of the dreams. During the day, I need rest because I’m so busy at night.
It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’ve decided to change my life situation. I listen to Meron Mendel and begin to write, to paint - and I get furious when he says something that hits me. I feel like I’m in a cage, in TextBodyText. He’s putting me in the cage with the antisemites. I feel trapped here, among those who hate Jews. To be here, I’d have to share their beliefs and opinions. Anything else leads to conflict - in the present.
Again my grandmother screams, "Disgraceful! Turn it off!" I suffer from it.
This morning I was quite sad. At some point I watched videos about sailing yachts - and I felt better.
I want to write this book because I want to change my life. It reminds me of 2019, when I dreamed of the farm in Santa Cruz. That dream pulled me out of reality. Back then, the reality was homelessness.
I’m afraid of the coming war. I already felt this fear in 2004 - then it was about the collapse of WestLB. I panicked. My coach said I’d become IT director, and my boss hated me because I had achieved something he never could.
I go back and forth. I dream of the yacht, sit at the desk, and look out at the Seattle skyline. Last night the news said that 30,000 Boeing workers are going on strike. They rejected a 25% raise - they want 40%. What a demand… but what’s the situation in the US if people need 40% more just to survive?
I look out at Seattle and listen to Meron Mendel, who gave his speech in February 2024 in Heidelberg. It pulls me into a view from the future - back onto myself, today, in my present.
Going forward, because I’m afraid of what’s coming. Walking away, because what’s happening now scares me. What happens if I stay - and simply keep writing?
Last night I dreamed of Seattle - and then it was on the evening news. In the dream, there were two men who threatened me and someone else. They walked across our meadow, and when we followed them, we saw them go to a house. In front of the house was a lake - deep and clear. I could see rocks reaching far into the depths.
Meron Mendel speaks about Angela Merkel, who grew up in the anti-Israel GDR. The chancellors before her had visited Israel four times. She herself went eight times during her term.
In the dream, we entered the house the men had gone into. We followed them inside, but they couldn’t see us. They talked about us as if we weren’t there. Eventually we left - and then we saw the men on horseback. Now they were chasing us.
One of them rode up a steep slope, but the horse got stuck and fell. He jumped off and kept running - after us. When they caught up, I stabbed the most threatening one in the leg. I stabbed him twice - but it hardly fazed him. I woke up drenched in sweat.
I continue working on my book - and these critics don’t just appear in my head anymore. They appear in my dreams.
"The security of Israel is part of our national interest," said Angela Merkel – and I’m somehow speechless. I haven’t even been able to make decisions about my own life. Until recently, I was in this cage - locked up with others.
"Beautiful people are more likely to be believed." This sentence from the image gains more meaning. It’s all long ago, but it still echoes in my ears. Look at them - and look at yourself. The ones my parents spoke of were two boys who later took their own lives. I stand on top of the cage, and the speech becomes a living being.
"I am, when I speak." "I am, when I scream." "I am only seen when I scream and make trouble."
Oma was a girl until she was twelve - then the Nazis came. Did Meron Mendel’s grandmother ever grow old? Are the heirs, the children of those Jewish grandparents, now in the leadership of the Knesset?
His grandparents hated the Germans - and doesn’t the grandson now hold significant power in Germany because of his heritage? Isn’t he "untouchable" as a Jew in Germany? And doesn’t he attract hatred because the child eventually wants to confirm the grandparents? Grandpa, you were right - the Germans are like that.
He speaks in the background. He’s somehow here, in my room. We know too little about modern communication. The speech becomes a living being.
It’s not so much the content. I’m simply not alone - and if my grandparents and parents only saw me when I screamed… well, then I’m home. And more than the speech, there’s nothing. I’m in church, and the priest is speaking. Everyone has to listen.
It’s about freedom. If I scream all day - that’s what my head does - then I’m completely exhausted by evening, but I’ve achieved nothing. How many people exhaust themselves in their daily work without knowing what they’re really doing?
I think of the banks I worked at. Especially UBS in New York. And I don’t know if I want to go back there.
Not long ago I met a kindergarten teacher here in the Weststadt. We talked - and at some point, I asked her: "How many children come to you because they can’t take it at home?"
She answered immediately: "More than 50% come from families where they’re not truly seen. Where they’re just another project goal that had to be reached - and now has to be followed through."
I’m thinking of Niko - someone I haven’t written about yet. I’ve barely written about Heidelberg over the years - maybe because I still live here. You tend to respect the people around you.
When I think of everything I’ve really experienced in Heidelberg, my throat tightens. I can barely breathe - and then I quickly smile.
"Hit me again!" That hitting - all the way to "not-being."
I smile a lot, even when I talk about things that really hurt. At the final concert of the semester, I brought my dog. During intermission, an old man approached me and started talking about the dog. He launched into a story about his own dogs, how important it was for him to take good care of them. We talked, and little by little he started speaking about my dog. He wondered whether it was good for her. I didn’t respond. He looked at me.
"You make everything into a joke," he said and turned away.
I laughed a lot, was cheerful - and only realized afterward how scared I was of that man. He reminded me of Marlen’s father, and I don’t want to go back to that memory.
It’s Sunday. A beautiful autumn day.
I feel fear, and there’s something sweet in it. It’s my fear - and instead of running from it, I’m becoming aware of it and trying to describe my path in life. Slowly, I’m arriving in myself, learning to work with the fear constructively. I don’t want to use the creativity that fear brings just to produce something.
I want to create something beautiful. To see beauty through an artist’s eyes. There’s beauty in my pain too.
Meron Mendel talks about Scholz inviting Netanyahu. I’ve only just reached the point where I can step out of the role of my parents as perpetrators. I’m becoming aware of my own experience as a victim, and this process leaves no space for concern about Israel. I’m a German who has chosen a very particular path, but I’m just a symptom of what others are likely going through too - even those who just continue living as their parents taught them.
I went outside and kept writing. I listened to Mendel, but I couldn’t paint. I scribbled a few words and hit a line: "Scream until I’m exhausted." It doesn’t change anything about my situation.
At some point, anger turns into vulnerability - and then I go outside. I look for people.
"And anybody does the job…" Even the people outside, adults and kids, the ones yelling right now. Does it even matter who it is? I was 19 or 20 back then, when anger gave me my freedom. Making amends? That time is over.
I feel the nakedness that comes with vulnerability. It doesn’t matter what I wear - no one sees it anyway. It’s only right before I go out that I worry about how I look.
But once I’m out, it doesn’t matter. I don’t think about it anymore. Because what I really long for - it’s like a child still hoping their mom will come back home?
Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay stuck in survival anxiety, working harder to afford something that hides this nakedness?
I’m on the bus and already received two beautiful smiles. They warmed me - even though they were for my dog. There’s something new here.
Maybe the success, the recognition this book brings, will warm me too. That’s a new thought. Creating something that touches people and makes them smile - that will warm me too.
I was still on the bus when I wrote that - and then almost fell off my seat. I knew the driver already and how choleric he got with passengers. I knew this type of man. I walked to the front, a bit shaken from nearly falling.
Backpack: 10.3 Between Projection, Compassion, and Inner Guidance
🧭 Core
Chapter 10.3 explores the layered inner space where love, desire, projection, and compassion coexist. The narrator moves through memories of Caroline, of women on the bus, of old and new role models. He meets himself in dreams, in encounters, in the mirrors of others. The chapter unfolds like an inner film, with scenes that feel both real and archetypal. At the center stands the question: How can true relationship arise, free of object status, free of lies, free of power games?
💔 Pain
The pain carries many forms:
• the feeling of never being truly seen
• the role as projection surface for father figures or expectations
• the experience of humiliation and pride
• the retreat into old stories to avoid feeling
• the confusion of love with possession or affirmation
• childhood experiences of loss of control and wordless rage
The child keeps appearing, as inner image, sometimes held, sometimes freed, sometimes fallen into the well. Again the same wish rises: to be seen. Not used. Not devalued.
🌊 Movement
The chapter passes through several movements:
• from rigid memory to flowing reflection
• from object status into subject-being
• from pride into humility
• from inner retreat into cautious shaping
• from compassion as pride into acceptance of one’s origin
The most important steps often come quietly. A glance. A talk on the bus. A sentence: “I am proud that I felt compassion.” A whisper: “I invite you to the premiere of my film.” A rhythm: walk three kilometers, write, walk three kilometers.
🖼 Image World
• The soap bubble bursting against the dam
• The woman with ancient hair on the tractor
• The falcon, the sparrow, the owl in the bus
• The Brazilian woman with the river across her face
• The tulip bulbs honoring one’s own “shit”
• The chocolate pudding inside the heart
• The red cap, perfectly placed
• The boat with four captains
• The presentation before the bank owners, with truths held back
• The boy in chains, torn apart, followed by the wish to free him
These images are more than metaphors. They are emotional realities in the narrator’s inner world, language for what otherwise cannot be spoken.
✨ Essence
Chapter 10.3 marks transition. From desire into relationship. From hiding into presence. From speaking about others into listening within. It is no loud eruption, but a tentative step into a new way of living and loving.
The central movement:
👉 from object into subject
👉 from pride in achievement into pride in compassion
👉 from the lie in the bank into truth in the garden
“The one who now writes does not yet fully exist.” And yet he is already here. In the words. In the flow. In the writing. The chapter closes with a gesture toward the You. To that one voice that listens. And here rests the secret of love: not to reach many, but to touch one.
🌀 Dance Theme - The Critic Has a Rhythm
He appears when you want to reveal yourself. When you want to write. To love. To dance. The inner critic, sharp like Staccato, loud like Chaos, quiet like Stillness. He has a rhythm. He repeats himself. Always. Today you dance him. Not away. Not against. But through. Give him movement. Give him tone. Let him tremble in your shoulders. Let him shout in your feet. Make him visible. Make him audible. And then: breathe. Soften. Flowing. The critic is the shadow of longing. He wants to guard you from something long past. Dance him out and you will feel: beneath his voice lies your own. And it is ready.
Flowing - Sensing What Is Already Here
🎵 Kamaal Williams - Salaam
Let your feet lead as you discover the quiet rhythm of your body. Here you begin to release old patterns gently and simply be in the flow. The movement comes organic, like a stream of water that carries you, with no need for answers.
Staccato - Deciding Where You Stand
🎵 Little Simz - Venom
A sharp, precise moment when you feel your boundary. Every glance, every gesture marks the point where you show yourself. It is no loud outburst, but a clear signal: “I am here.” The movement grows sharp and deliberate.
Chaos - Everything Mixes Anew
🎵 Burial - Archangel
Here the inner critic dances in full force. Pride, fear, rage, and laughter collide. It is the unplanned, unrestrained storm, a dance that shatters old roles until only raw emotion remains.
Lyrical - The New Order Feels Light
🎵 Jungle - Smile
Playful lightness returns. Your movement becomes rhythmic and free, a gentle expression that releases your soul. It feels like dancing with yourself, soft and in harmony with all that has been.
Stillness - The Circle Remains Open
🎵 Kae Tempest - People’s
Faces (Dan Carey Remix)
Here you find rest in the open circle. Not stillness as ending, but presence, where the past rhythms integrate. You stand in the moment, breathing, letting the circle flow on within you. A quiet closure that leaves space for what comes.