There are moments that we cannot immediately grasp with our intellect – and that is exactly where their power lies.

A few days ago, I started reading "Das Land das ich dir zeige" (The Land I Show You) by Peter Lotar. The very first lines haven't let go of me since:

»My life takes place in waking, in sleeping, in dreaming. Sometimes I do not know if my waking is not a dream; at times, in sleep, I am as awake as ever. Then I dream.

In all languages, the day is masculine, the night feminine. The day begets, the night conceives.

The dream is her pregnancy. Deeds and omissions, joys and sorrows fertilize her, and from them grows the new—new action, experiencing, suffering.

The mother first senses the coming of the new within her, then becomes more certain of it, and finally gives birth to it in pain.

Thus, in dreams, we carry the future out of the past, before it finally, laboriously, emerges into the light.«

I realize: My intellect reaches its limits here. I cannot logically analyze these words, yet I feel their immediate truth. They fascinate me precisely because they touch a core that lies deeper than mere knowledge.

Since I read them, they have stayed with me. Not loudly, not intrusively—more like a quiet process in the background. Perhaps you know the feeling: you encounter something that touches you without being able to explain it immediately. And that is precisely where its impact lies.

I took this photo yesterday morning on my way to work. A brief moment—and yet everything was contained within it: stillness, transition, movement. Early in the morning, between night and day. Everything was quiet. And yet, there was already something changing.

Perhaps this is exactly the "space" Lotar speaks of. A space between consciousness and depth. Between what was, and what is only beginning to show itself.

At 54, I am becoming increasingly aware that these moments are not a given. That life is finite—and therefore all the more precious. Perhaps that is why my perspective has shifted: away from quick understanding, towards conscious experience.

I am currently in my coaching training. The course days are now further apart—and it is precisely in these "in-between" spaces that something exciting happens. It’s not just the learning during the seminars. It’s what happens in between. What resonates. What slowly takes shape—often without me being able to name it right away.

Maybe this is exactly the "dream" Lotar writes about: an inner process in which something new develops from the past. And perhaps coaching isn't about finding answers immediately. But rather about opening this space.

A space where you don't have to force anything. Where you can perceive what is emerging within you. In your own time.

If you are currently accompanied by such questions—if you feel that something is working inside you that doesn't have a name yet—then perhaps now is exactly the right moment to look closer. Not to understand everything. But to get in touch.