Shamanic session for Shamanische Reisen – Joke Metselaar about Christian Loidl

As part of my endeavourous mission  to finalise my personal foreword to Christian Loidl’s magnificent, magical stories of Shamaische Reisen, I decide to make an appointment with Dutch-born soul-reader and therapeute Joke Metselaar, who holds a simple office on the backside of a beautiful canalbuilding amidst the sumptuous Gouden Bocht, the golden corner in the Herengracht in Amsterdam. The city much loved and referred to by Christian – an ardent lover of palindromes and anagrammes – as the city of the “Mad Master”. One week before his final descent at 16th of December 2001, Christian visited the city with me, as a companion of his partner Eva Lavic, who was there to attend a congress for Latinists and teachters/lectors of the French language and literature. After Eva went back to Vienna, Christian asked me to accompany him on his quest for some exquisite magical mushrooms as well as some fresh samples of LSD. Which we were – even after ardent attempts with various dealers and wheelers familiar with the milieu at the time – not able to find.

Christian Loidl, Dec 2001 - pic taken by Eva Lavric

Christian Loidl, Dec 2001 – pic taken by Marcus Gindelhuber (copyright protected). “Marcus Gindelhuber” is a professional photographer who took the above picture at an already famous mushroom session in a tree at Kautzen (Waldviertel).

One week after his return to his “quite pleasant but also sumptuous and operetta-like home-city of Vienna” (Christian’s words), the fatal accident happened at Vereinsgasse 3, with his Fensterstuerz. As it appeared, Christian had swallowed some pieces of a highly toxic mushroom normally only to be taken by shamans in Siberia; others were adviced to take in tempered doses of this substance “closer to insects than to plants” (again the words of Christian), at the utmost by drinking the piss of these shamans. After  which they would be exposed to highly lucid visions that would guide them towards and through the intensely magical but sometimes also traumatising realms of the underground . Here is quite a literal translation of this session, that took place on Monday September 7th, from13h until 15h30. For those who will read the Shamaic Travels and/or are familiar with his later work, it is obvious that the way in which Joke was able to “read” the soul of Christian, is not mere pretentious esotheric bullshit but carries some clear and obvious relation to the wizzard he really was. For those who doubt: I can assure you that before the day of the session, Joke Metselaar was not familiar with the works and life of Christian at all. In fact, she had never heard of him. Everything she uttered during the session, all the knowledge she purveyed, came through by her well-trained technique of “voice-recognition”. One speaks the name of the soul one wants to get information from, and henceforth – on the wings of these auditive vibrations – Joke “feels” or “senses” the energy this soul radiates.

Even though at first glance, Joke was quite surprised and a bit reserved at my request to read the soul of Christian for my specific purpose, as usually  her mission is to heal patients from their own bloccades and past trauma’s, the fact that both she and me were by accident carrying the same book of Medicine Cards ( edited by Jamie Sams and David Carson, and illustrated by Angela C. Werneke; Bear & Company Santa Fe, New Mexico 1988), filled with beautifully  llustrated stories of American-Indian Totem-animals, was seen to both of us as a benign sign that my quest was not out of order, but very just and meant-to-be.  I was carrying the book because I used it as background information for the  Shamanic Travels of Christian Loidl, Joke was carrying it because that evening she meant to use it during one of her lessons to new scholars in the art of healing. Both of us had never carried the book around before… A beautifull case of chance-operation, as William Burroughs – one of the lucid lunatics Christian made me familiar with in his flat in Vereinsgasse – used to call this.

pic taken on 16th of December 2010 by Swantje Lichtenstein in Vienna

pic taken on 16th of December 2010 by Swantje Lichtenstein in Vienna

Joke: So now we enter the realm of Christian and his lucid soul… I truly feel that he still has lots to say. And wants to convey his message to us and actually the whole of humanity, with precise words and wisdom. What I feel immediately, is the transparant joy he feels. An almost childlike enthusiasm he likes to convey. What he wants to say is: I do have a message for you all out there. Please listen! I recognize this enthousiasm from the time that I was young myself. When, as a child, I flunked out from highscool during springtime. When I could not sit still. I lived along the coast of the Netherlands,  and sook refuge in the dunes. Trembling from impatience, as I felt the urge to put the first green leaves of the year into my mouth. Overwhelmed with joy for the miracles of nature. Such as: nature is alive and kicking! Life rejoyces and a new cycle begins! That is what  I feel with Christian too. An ardent feeling of joy and of impatience. Which is, I guess, very characteristic of him. I also felt, before this session began, another form of energy. A non-compromising one. A radical one. A sharp one. One off anger, fury sometimes.  An urge to rattle the world. To make it aware: see! Feel! Listen! Understand how everything is connected and how it is put together! Please! Cut the crap! Christian felt, I can sense, the world largely a dumb place to live. The world for him was like a palace, crowded by personel that was unaware of its beauty, vastness and uniqueness. He had no connection to or sensitivity towards compromise or convention. When we entered this room earlier on, I felt a certain nervousness because I had not sorted out some of my mail yet and had not delivered some of my  bills. At that moment, I could hear his tender laughter coming at me. Cheer  up, I heard him boast. Get on with it! Do what you have to do, without further  ado! Christian carried two sides in himself. On the one hand, a sharp and almost agressive side that showed no compromise. A side that is strongly connnected to the animus, the male aspect within us. Come on, world! Listen! Play your part! Wach auf! That was the man within him. Furthermore, he also reveals to me a different side in him. A less resolute one. One almost of desperation: goddammit I cannot get through these ferm walls of simplicity and brutality. He saw it as his mission to break these kind of walls. To smash them. Both aspects are very powerful and strong.

That is also, I can feel now as you mention his name to me, how he took off from his life. I see a metal suitcase. Did he have a metal suitcase? Yes! I see this metal suitcae very vividly now. He took this metal suitcase, in which he carried papers that were important to him. Notes for readings or so. Scribbles. Books.  And he tried to smash it as hard as he could. He could get no more air. The suitcase was connected to the state in which he got himself into. One of lack of air. Fresh air. And he needed air. Fresh air. To breathe. And see clearly. He smashed the case, and shred it to pieces. For need and hope of opening it up. He smashed the window with it, didn’t he? And then he took off. He dived towards the earth. And disappeared into the underground. The Unterwelt… That is what I feel. And what  I feel, is that the little suitcase was a symbol to him of the earth. Goddamit people, wake up! Listen, look and above all: feel! Pleasee feel the magnitude and meaning of it all! He considered most people to be morons. Sleepwalkers. Numbs. I sense he could also feel a sincere form of anger, directed towards his audiences.  Especially those who faked to have some understanding or to uphold some fake form of literary standing. By consequence of this anger, I feel, Christian entered into a spiral that made him more and more radical as a poet and person during his later life. He became more and more extreme. In an attempt to get his message across. And, by consequence again, his audience followed and understood him less and less in the end . People somehow enjoyed the  extremity and gravity of his performances. But failed to get the message. – Oh, by the way: I see there is a wasp flying around your body Serge. It flies around and tries to land on your face!

Serge: It does not matter. Let if fly, this wasp. I am not afraid.

Joke: Alright then. Well… what I meant to say is that there was a severe level of misunderstanding in connection to his works and performances. A failure to grasp the depth of his words and the true meaning of their potency. Most listeners and readers could not follow through. And precisely because he was not understood, his performances and work became more radical over the years. The content in due time became more and more obscure, people felt. Christian became a true mystic towards the end of his life. Correct?

Serge: I think you are right.

Joke: Then now I would like to go back to the little boy-spirit that I feel so strongly within Christian, and that I find very intrigueing. I feel this boyishness so strongly, the young passionate boy full of blissfull enthousiasm and impatience. Eager to discover the world, both the upper and the underworld… By the way, that wasp is still trying to land on your face, Serge. You could ask, or say: dear wasp, it is good you are there. But would you mind leaving me alone for a little while?

Serge: would you like to go away, dear wasp? (The wasp remains in front of my face, cirkling around and sticking itself from time to time to my shirt.) Or… would you like to send me a message?

Joke: Haha… could it be your Totem-animal? Well, anyway, let me go back by making contact with Christian. Would you please once more give me his name?

Serge: Christian Loidl.

Joke: Hello Christian Loidl. Yes…. I feel that he was born with a highly energetic soul.  And that it has been, from the start of his life, quite a troublesome thing to connect with the earth. With earthly matters, I mean.

Serge: Even though Christian was born of the 17th of September 1957. A virgo I mean. Quite an earthly sign, isn’t it?

Joke: Indeed, but I really feel the highth of his energy, when you tell me his name. I see him looking down, from high up, towards the earth. The virgo-part is represented in him by means of his analytical capacities. I feel him looking downwards towards the earth, but from a distance. Like someone who is looking through a microscope. That is what I feel. On the one hand, he was totally spectring into the earthly facets of this planet. By means of looking through a magnifying glass. On the  other hand, it appears to me that he was not really a part of that earth at all. He could as much be facinated by the vastness of the insectworld, as by the magnitude of the universe. Does that make sense? Indeed. It appears to me, Christian was not or did not want to be part of the banality  of life. Its daily routines. Strangely enough, what I also hear is the word balanced. (Uitgebalanceerd). I just say it as it comes to me. Balanced. That appears, at first glance, sharply to be in contrario to what  I just said. His radical form of distance and temper.  But I strongly feel his equivalent urge to approach life in a very balanced way by means of earthly matter, as well as philosophy, language, poetry, with everything indeed. I feel him as being some kind of discoverer, who goes further  and further in his private discoveries. And by doing so, discovering  his one and only private path in life. Am I clear in this?   Christian knew what the utter direction of his path would be. He was eager to progress, and discover. He was curious. Very curious. Like a child. This gave him zeal as much as rest, for he knew that his quest was not a desperate one. He knew where to look, in order to find what  he was curious about. He had a sharp sense of direction. This also was the ground for his non-compromising attitude towafds life. He felt it unnecessary, unjust even, to mellow things up. To pour water into his glass of wine. You know what I mean?  He knew which path he had to follow. This gave him a sense of urgency, and accuracy. Like: yes it may all be very nice over here, but this is the way I have to go. This is my thing. In this attitude, I also feel – contrary to the suitcase I just mentioned – the utter mysticism of his mission as a shamanic poet. Christian was aware of the paths he had to discover. What I feel now are broad cirkles (Joke is making flat kind of circles in the air, with her right upper hand up, whirling through space in rhytmical fashion). Does this make any sense to you? It might seem quite abstract what I am showing you now. But it is not….

Loidl-Kalligraphie von Nazar Honchar

Loidl-Kalligraphie von Nazar Honchar

Shall we tune in, now, to that very evening of his departure, Sunday 16th  of December 2001?

Serge: Please do so.

Joke:  I feel sadness and solitude, on that very evening. He was waiting for somebody to come, or somehting to happen that did not happen. He felt deserted. At the same time he felt very sharply that the end was approaching. That this was the moment of truth. It really comes to me, by forms of energy: the feeling he had that it was over and out. Sadness and sollitude. A remoteness and estrangement from the world he had been part of. A strong feeling of physical contraction, that he felt within him. A painful one, bodywise. His body contracted, his muscles and vessels cramped.  I can feel that he suffered from a lack of air…. That he needed air and clarity. And it may sound very strange what I tell you now, but I strongly feel that he consciously departed into the darkness, to bring  ultimately some light into that darkness. I really feel that he scrambled all his forces, into a moment of singular powerful energy and strength. Knowing that he knew the road. Saying to himself: I do know the way into the underworld. And also I know the way out of the underworld. I know how to get there, and know how to get out of it. I know how to pave the  way in utter darkness. That is what I feel. But with it I also feel a sense of utter gravity. He saw it, in fact, as a mission from which there was no more escape on that dark December evening.

Serge: Did he get lost, during his shamanic session of that evening? I mean, did he lose his way?

Joke: He did not lose his way. In fact,it was his way, that he was paving. His mission was to go deep into the realms of the underground. He knew that he had to do this. And that he could do this, because he also knew the  way back towards the light again. He knew that, once I pave that way  down there, others who may have been stuck  in the underground can also find – like me – their way back up again. And that is very special indeed. That is amazing. Because he did it out of compassion. A feeling he did not know how to purvey really well during his life.  Compassion for humanity was not his strongest urge during his time on earth. But in the last instances of his life, it is precisely this what drove him to do what he did. I feel a very deep and sincere emotion of compassion. This is my mission. This is what I have to do, whether I like it or not. No doubt about it. This is what I must do. To give myself up. To sacrifice my flesh, my being, my soul. Namen ist Amen. That is what I feel. That is what I hear.

Serge: His name was Christian, of course… And all this you tell me know, indeed has some christian reverb to it. Some echo of the core of the Christ myth, no?

Joke: It is something christian, very much indeed so. He went to the core of darkness, in order to bring light to this very darkness. The amazing thing about it all, is that in all of this I have no feeling of any ago-complexity intermingling with it. None at all. He just felt sure he had to do this. Step, no, dive into the darkness. From a totally nude and honest and above all: neutral perspective. A perspective that, in the final analysis, had nothing to do with his self anymore. Nothing to do with his own personality. Only with his clearcut sense of urgency. His mission. This is my mission. And if I have to drown in it, or die accomplishing it, well… so be it. I know how to swim back to the surface anyway. I shall and must pave the way. So that the way shall be known and made for others too.

Serge: somewhat like a pathfinder. (Padvinder. Pad is the  Dutch word for way as well as for Kroete)

Joke: A path-knower, I should say. A Kroete-savant.

Serge: That was precisely one of Christian’s Totem-Tiere. Der Kroete. De pad. Better a padweter, than a bedweter (better a Lux-lucent, than a Sermon-serpent). Hahaha!

Joke: A real Kroete-savant, indeed. And with this, I can also clearly see what the message his he wanted to leave for his love Eva. Suche mich nicht! I mean: do not look for me in the darkness, in which I descended. And please go straight up towards the Light, when your Time shall come. Because I shall be there too, waiting for you. I have a strong feeling that Christian wanted to lift her up. To bring her towards light. Not by means of death. But by means of life. Please enjoy, his message is. Be well. Here on earth , as much as in the afterlife. And know that I shall already be part of that light, when you shall come. I will be there. But… in the meanwhile. He is still very busy down there, for the time being, and for as much as one can speak of Time on the other side of our reality of course. I can really feel him being busy. Digging his holes, drilling his ways through the realms of darkness.  And he is not uncomfortable there. Or afraid. In fact, he is happy there. He feels like a fish in the water. He is in the right place, at the right time. He is still busy accomplishing his mission, on the back of his Kroete, in the underground floods of darkness.

Serge: This is exactly what he described in one of his Shamanic Travels.

Joke:  He resolutely did not experience any form of fear, over there where he went. One has love, and one has fear. From frear comes hatred, anger, disust, agression etcetera. From love comes compassion, wisdom, happiness, joy. Christian took off, from the center of his singular neutrality, into the abyss. He deliberately went into the darkness. Not to end up with darkness, but in order to shed light into it. This, precisely, made him in many ways I would say, untouchable. The special message he conveys to this, and now I am looking to Eva again, is that he wants to let her know: please start to feel compassion too. Because at the moment that this was revealed to him, all matters of anxiety were solved automatically. It feels to me that, just because of his non-compromising attitude towards life, Christian was not able to fully be compassionate. He leaned more towards his sharpness: hey guys, wake up! He enchanted through ways of anger. Temper. He used the hammer to shramble the closet of porcelain and glass. I feel that at the moment of his death, he descended into the underworld with the strongest possible emotions of  compassion.  The image that comes to me, is that of a flower that opens herself on that very  moment of truth. In the warming light of his own compassion.

Courtyard where the Air Poet landed harshly in 2001. Seen from the window he broke with his aluminium suitcase, gasping for air.

Courtyard where the Air Poet landed harshly in 2001. Seen from the window he broke with his aluminium suitcase, gasping for air.

Serge: So actually he did find what he was looking for?

Joke: Most certainly, yes. And that I find very beautiful. Also to me. Because this morning I still felt; oh gee, why this lack of compassion that was revealed so strongly. I did not feel it. I did feel the young and enthousiastic little rascal, the impatient boy who wanted to tell and reveal. As well as the image of the angry man, trying to break through walls of pettyness. The person who wanted to kick us in the ass and tell us to wake up. To see. Listen. And above all: feel. Christian raged against the smallmindedness of his surrounding Austrian society. The remnants of a fascist past that was never really shed-off. His rage against authoritarianism, racism, hatred, crypto-fascism that he felt so strongly choked by. In this matter, his suitcase was a strong symbol. To him, it was a symbol of the closedness of mind of his fellow countrymen. In the case, the secret of their salvation laid. The softness, the soft powers of wisdom and tolerance and compassion.

Serge: That is why he wanted to shred the suitcase to pieces, didn’t he?

Joke: Indeed, that is why. He wanted to tear down the walls of pettyness that people had constructed around their individual souls. He wanted to open up the suitcase of compassion to the world. And yes, he managed really to finally open it up during the last instances of his life. And consequently by hammering it during that dark night in December, he was able to pour out the soft and tender and important side of that which lied hidden on the inside. The softness of humanity. But he had to die for it. He had to make that sacrifice. A longtime ago, one could buy waterflowers, orchidaes of crepe-papier in the store. That is what Christian was, at the moment of his death, a waterflower of crepe-papier. Opening up towards the light, be it moon- or sunlight. One can also see him as some sort of a Phoenix. A mythical bird, who flew up out of the ashes of darkness and death… Christian did not feel himself like such a bird during his Fensterstuerz, but he was some sort of creature on its mission towards the underground.  He wanted to pave the way for other souls stuck in the underground. Cause the people he combatted in his more ardent fragments of prose and poetry, were in fact the souls still kept in darkness by their own incapacity to feel love and compassion. So what he went to do, was to take off and work out for them precisely. To make it possible for those souls to be finally enlightened. To uncover their selves hidden in and covered by darkness. Am I a bit clear in what I say now?

Christian Loidl - Air Poet

Christian Loidl – Air Poet

Serge: May I chant a song for you, that was written by Christian? And that may well be a splendid connection to what you just evoked?  First of all, the motto to his dreamlike Shamanische Reisen are the following lines: “Ich muss vollkommen hineinschauwen ins Schwarze und Unbekannte”.

“ich muß vollkommen hineinschaun ins schwarze und unbekannte.” – Christian Loidls Reisen in Unter- und Oberwelt

Furthermore, the song I want to sing….


ich bring dir aus der unterwelt


langsame augen

langsame augen


mit käferzungen leck ich dich

mit käferzungen leck ich dich


mit eulenaugen schabe ich an dir

mit eulenaugen schabe ich an dir


ich bring dir aus der unterwelt

ich bring dir aus der unterwelt


langsame augen

langsame augen

(aus: Christian Loidl: pupille, Wien: edition selene 1998, S.54)

Joke: That is beaufiful! I have a tendency to remain silent for a long time now. But… the fact is, that Christian was not able to make these very lines clear during his life on earth as a poet and human being. No matter what he wrote or tried. He felt the urge to convey this to the people in some other way. He needed to reach out to their soft spot. Their softness. By means of compassion. Through means of the senses too. Cause then he could go further than before. Thus he could learn how to swim and progress against the current of Time. As long as people live according to the structures of the walls they built, according to the patterns of their fears and ego-related attitudes, me-me-me, everybody will look the other way  than where the light comes from. And the underworld of which we speak, is filled with countless black pieces of everybody. The covered pieces of the souls that have not been put into the light yet. The pieces and the knowledge that one is not aware of yet. Christian went into that abyss, those dark caverns under the earth, to paves ways – exits – out of the darkness.

Serge: Forgive me my question, but isn’t that a bit arrogant? Hochmutig?

Joke: No it was not Hochmutig, arrogant, because Christian really felt the urge to do what he had to do. It was natural to him. Not a deed of self-esteem or glorification. This was the pure and simple mission he had to accomplih. And it is a mission that is very necessary to fullfill. Not some kind of illusionary task him put himself to. Not at all. Precisely that is why he felt such a gravity on the  night he decided to take up his task. It was not an easy task, but it had to be done. .He could not feel other than being sad and lonely. Deserted, set apart from the others. What gave him strength was his completely self-assured feelings that he had to do it. And that it was nothing else but just and necessary. This is how things were. Christian fully listened to his inner self. And that is what told him to do what he did. (Again Joke makes those wide, cirkling moves with her right hand. As if she is turning a flat and horizontal wheel with the palms of her hand, from left to right.)

Serge: That is a generous gesture, isn’t it?

Joke: Yes, these are the cirkles he felt he had to spin around and around. The cirkles of shamanism….

Christian Loidl (1957-2001)

Serge: Could you ask him what precisely was the role of poetry on his path of life? Was it just a vehicle, or was poetry the  purpose of it all?

Joke: The answer that I get, strangely enough, is clearly that poetry was the purpose of it all. It was not just a vehicle. But in his case, vehicle and purpose, path and goal are so intertwined, that they end up being one and a whole. Christian’s path, turned out to be his work of art. That was his genius and singularity. Everything came together, both in his work as a poet as in his utterings as a human being. That is also precisely what I meant, when I said that apart from being a non-compromising soul, he was an artist and wizzard who was also very balanced and self-aware in the actions he took and the steps he made. I am tempted to say, that in his case there was no room left between action and thought. The thinking process, was left behind. And that, precisely, is the purpose of it all. That is poetry in its purest form. Form does no longer follow, but is function itself. And function is thus also form in its purest way.  Christian managed to overlap his inner self with what he uttered to the outside world.

Serge: It seems to me that the German literary world of conventional critics and readers,  was never really able – nor willing – to relate to the works Christian wrote and the often awkward but outstanding performances he gave as a performing poet. Does Christian still have a message left for those people?

Joke: I feel that this is very true. Surely, many people liked what he wrote and were amazed by the inner foce with which he evoked his own verses. But most of them could not make a connection with it to their inner selves.  And that is a tragedy, because this is precisely what he tried to purvey with his verses and performances: please go back to your inner selves. Relate to the cristal clear transparency of your own original souls.  Stay close to that originality. That genuineness of character. I feel that a large part of his audiennce, his readers and spectators, was actually looking for a connection outside themselves rather than within themselves. Christian was aware of this “malentendu”. This misunderstanding, very much so. He also carried something very clear and sober in himself. He was able to distance himself from his work and his audience in a very adult and wise manner. The critics, I sense, probably were never very fond of him. Not because they disliked him. But because they could not at all relate to him. This tribe of judges, did not have a clue of what he was about to say or utter. And I am afraid this will still remain so for a very long time to come. Most of them are controlled by a very strong urge, coming forth of ego and uncertainty, to put everything into categories, hierarchies and distinctions. Terms they – as a manner of speaking – consequently vomited out over his work.  Most critics proved themselves to be douaniers, Grenzbeambten at the borders of the Palace of Literature, demanding valid ego-documents before they would be willing to open the gates to their inner sanctum. But in the case of Christian, these Grenzbeambten stood aside with empty and bare hands. What the fuck is he talking about? What for heaven’s sake is he doing there on stage? These people did not have a clue to jugde him with.

Serge: Did this hurt his feelings as an artist?

Joke: Not really. But i t did enhance his feeling of loneliness. I sense a strong feeling of solitude, regarding Christian as a poet and person.  His question was quite a desperate one: why on earth does nobody really understand me, even though I try by all means to make myself so utterly clear? And even though  I try to choose the path  of simplicity, youngness, curiosity, open mindedness? Is it so hard to grasp the simple messages of an inner truth? Christian worked from the depth of his own passions and his own wisdom. This was very personal, and very sincere and unfurnished. But precisely because of this non-compromising attitude towards art and life, his message was not received on the other end. That is also why he felt the urge to go all the way in the end. It is only through his last act of will, his self chosen death in fact, out of a grander form of compassion, that he has finally been able to achieve his mission of enlightenment. Literally, to enlighten the path for those stuck in the dark. He could not accomplish this during his lifetime, because his approach was too sharp, too obscure, too angry also. It somehow lacked the basis of love and compassion, that he started out from while literally diving into the underground. Still, he did what he did – also as a poet who tried to confront and illuminate people in his own discerned manners – because he felt he had to. There was no other way. His way was the only way, because it was the way  of his inner truth.

Ah-Pook Maya God of Destruction

Ah-Pook Maya God of Destruction

Serge: If I understand you well, Christian is still busy performing his work underground?

Joke: Indeed he is. I can feel him work his way through the Unterwelt, a bit like a mole who is digging his corridors in order to pave ways towards the light. He is happy there. He knows where he is, and why he is there. He also very well knows the way back to the upper world. I can sense him as some sort of frog or Kroete, joyfully floating on a warmer, dark underground stream that is leading ultimately towards the light. He is happy there where he went, because he is fullfilling his task.

Serge: Christian also carried within him the mysterious trademark of a so-called “hick-up”, that could pop up from his inner depths in the most unexpected spontaneous instances. It was an auditive trademark, quite tenderly described by his nom de plume Farudin-al-Hak as “the scream of a peacock lost in Allah’s Zoo”. This scream was really characteristic of Christian, it could come bursting out of his body at the most unexpected moments… What exactly are your thoughts or feelings, concerning this hick-up? (* Dear Eva, perhaps you could help me here. I mean no disrespect, but I somehow keep forgetting how exactly this hick-up was conveyed to Christian, in which way and by whom… This is a story that in one way or other seems to remain a mystery  to me….)

Joke: Yes, I feel that this “hick-up” was a discernate part of the distance he carefully kept to the outside and earthly world he lived on. It was a trademark of his desire to disassociate or inability to  connect to earthly matters. A character-trade due to perceive the world through a microscope. He embraced it, and did not have feelings of disgust for it. It marked the person he was, on the level of his soul. It did not stem from his ego, or his desire to stand out on a personal level. He accepted it, for ninety percent. He was who he was. And this hick-up was a symbol for his standing out. It was in some ways convenient for him, because it enhanced his awareness of all the walls people had constructed in society to differ and alienate others. The hick-up made this extra clear for him. It strengthened him in his mission he had to accomplish. But it also, once again, made him a bit more solitary than he would have been otherwise.

Serge: What exactly did Love mean to Christian?

Joke: Christian’s approach towards earthly love may remain somewhat mysterious to us, indeed. Because of his uncompromising attitude in his work and his life. Earthly love implies that one personally connects and intimately bonds with other human beings. That one relates to one another on a basis of trust. What I can feel concerning Christian, is that he was living so much in greater spheres, that he found it hard to form these kind of bonds on a personnal and earthly level. The personal ties he formed and the intimate bonds he held high, had to be on the same level as where he operated on. He was a non-compromising figure. And for that reason, for example, probably choose not to have children. Can you please once more state his name, so that I can still be as precize as possible in what I say?

Serge: Christian Loid….

Joke:  Yes. What I feel is that he did not care too much about hardcore earthly matters. All things originating from earthly sources, he found quite uninteresting. He just did not care about them. What he did care about, was his vision. He wanted to be truthful to his own, inner self. His inner guidance. To that, he was unquestionably and unconditonally faithful. In matters of love, faith was quite irrelevant. A soul can contain multitudes, he found. What he sought, was to surround himself with people who could relate to his inner quest of artistic truthfulness and poetic bravery. People he could therefore truly love.

Serge: Am I right in thinking that the Kroete (Pad), was the one exquisite Totem Tier of Christian Loidl?

Joke: The Kroete, most certainly. But I also see an animal that is a lot faster than that. A Haase, I think. Yes, it also is a Haase. Because Christian had this enormous, boundless speed with which his mind could travel. The Totem-Tiere were symbolic vehicles for his mind, to travel with. And to discover things with, through all possible realms of the unknown. Be it under or above ground. In die Unter oder die Obere Welt. But just as with his poetry and the forms in which he wrote or performed it, vehicle and purpose came together in the end as one. Also, I can see a creature with wings. An eagle. Or even a mythical bird, like a Phoenix.

Serge: Or a Garuda, perhaps?

Joke:  Or Garuda. This being a symbol of his desire for overview. Clarity. Sharpness of vision over the entire hemisphere of things on and under the surface of this planet. The urge for being part of an overflow.

farnblüte_121610f_ck (6)

What I think is so special about Christian, is that I do not happen to feel any Ego anymore contaminating or inflicting with his inner purpose. This is also very new to me. Normally people still need parts of their ego and personality, to fullfill their earthly missions. So that, whatever it is that we feel we have to do, we can realize it in the here and now. But with Christian? No such thing whatsoever. Fuck all egotism and fuck all cults of personality, he seems to say. He simply could not refer to that. From the outside, he therefore might have seemed quite extreme and radical, while from the inside he was totally sincere and simply who he was. No Aufschmuck at all. I am actually quite happy, I must say, to have been acquainted in this manner, through this session, with his soul. I was not familiar with him before at all. I am grateful that I have been granted the opporunity to read his soul. It is quite rare to feel someone whose jacket, if I may say so, has been loosened up to such an extent already. Whose aura seems to have been departed in such a mature way, from all our regular earthly matters that usually tie us to the ground. Christian tells me from where he is now, a message full of love and compassion. In utter clarity: come on now! Come on! Do your thing! Listen to yourself. For him, there was no such thing anymore as less or more. Better or different. The one or the other. That has to be so, if one is so accomplished in embracing the oneness of it all. That is why Christian saw it as his task to tear down those eartly walls of human behavior and break that suitcase of humanity into pieces.

I think we have come round now, with our session concerning Christian Loid. This dance is over. I thank Christian and the Upper and Underworld, left and right, for all information given to us. Now our roads and energies may part once more. And while I say this, I can hear the sardonic laughter of Christian high above or beneath me. Part once more? Dear lady, in the end there is nothing to part or diverse,  really. Bullocks! Me, who usually always ends up by dividing back our energies into  individual spheres.  In order to not take something with me, that does not belong to me. Christian’s mind is much wiser than this. He does not discern into what is mine or thine. His or hers. Here or there. He knows that everything turns around and comes around, in endless cirkles of time and roundabout turbulances of space. But, at the other hand, he grins while granting me the right to do as I am used to. From his baseline of compassion. Erbarmen. Truly beautiful it is.