Before one starts meditating, there is motivation. It remains a central and continually important topic on this path.

Since I assume the reader already has their own motivation - at least enough to begin - I will start directly with the first practice and address the topic of motivation in detail later on.

Beginners and advanced practitioners

When I offer guidance for beginners and advanced practitioners, I am by no means referring to different spiritual standards. A person’s spiritual maturity only partly depends on their meditation experience.

The level one is on spiritually depends more on the foundation one was born with, the extent to which one has lived for the sake of others, and the love that has motivated such action.

So when I speak of beginners and advanced practitioners, I am referring solely to experience in meditation practice.

I may have some meditation experience myself, but I often find myself in the position of introducing people to mystical practice who are spiritually far beyond me.

Additionally, it is important that even so-called advanced practitioners maintain a beginner's mind in order to avoid stagnation. 

As soon as we feel secure in our practice, the next level awaits, where we begin again from zero. In this sense, we are all beginners and seekers on the path to God. In front of God, 20 more or fewer years of meditation make no great difference.

It's hard to determine when one is considered advanced based on a fixed time. To provide a rough orientation, one could take about three years of regular meditation of 30 minutes as a guideline. During this period, the changes begin to gradually stabilize. The experiences I mentioned in the phase of deepening occur.

However, it is not necessary to strictly categorize oneself.  Simply take the guidance that best fits you.

The mystical practice is meant to prepare us for the heavenly gifts of grace. The central point is the attitude - the purity and openness of our hearts. This is where the inner path leads.

First, this requires finding our own access to this level of our being.

Holistic preparation

Preparation is not limited to the heart; it involves our entire being - body, psyche, and spirit. It is a practice that leads to the unity of our whole self, guided by our innermost essence.

The aspect of practice

In Buddhism, meditation and mindfulness are often referred to as exercise. In Christianity, on the other hand, it is rather unusual to understand prayer as exercise.

Basically, however, prayer combines both aspects:

We prepare ourselves - body, psyche, and spirit - for an encounter with God. That is the exercise aspect. And at the same time, we turn to God with our full devotion -thus, every prayer also becomes a mystical event.

Where the exercise ends

When we enter a deeper state, grace begins to work. At this point we can let go of the exercise and allow ourselves to be carried along with the power of the real spirit in the present moment.

Here, only the mystical experience in the present counts. We fully surrender to the divine occurrence.

The stages of inner preparation

The practice usually begins with external exercises that lead us step by step inward. They prepare those aspects that become effective in the experience of grace:

Practice usually begins with external exercises that lead us step by step inward. They prepare those aspects that become effective in the experience of grace:

• Grounding
• Gathering
• Defocusing – opening into vastness
• Perceiving the spiritual heart
• Going inward

For each of these aspects, there is a corresponding exercise.

At some point, everything happens simultaneously - this is the state we ourselves can prepare, in order to make space for grace.

Then grace carries us into the mystical experience.

The first consideration concerns the sitting position in which we meditate. 

In principle, you can experience enlightenment or resonance with the Holy Spirit in any posture - while walking, sitting or even lying down in a hammock.

Mystical experiences are spiritual states that can occur in any life situation. 

Finding a supportive sitting posture

In our daily practice and prayer, however, we should find a suitable sitting position for ourselves. 

It is about choosing a posture that best supports us. 

There are numerous books and videos on this topic, so I will not describe the sitting postures in detail. I recommend instead watching some videos and trying different postures.

Basic considerations for sitting posture 

The primary goal of sitting posture is to be able to sit as pain-free as possible during meditation. Additionally, there should be good contact with the ground to achieve a sense of grounding. 

It is optimal if the hips can be tilted slightly forward, as this makes it easier to straighten the back. This occurs when the knees are located below the hip joints. The upper body should be as upright and relaxed as possible. 

I will address the position of the hands in prayer separately later. 

The traditional sitting position in the lotus position is considered the ideal position for meditation: The lower body is stable and connected to the earth, while the upper body remains upright and flexible like a blade of grass. 

A good alternative is the kneeling position. Here, the tops of the feet and shins are on the floor, the knees are bent, and one sits on a meditation cushion at the appropriate height. 

It is also possible to meditate on a chair. 

When tradition becomes a hurdle

I myself have meditated in the quarter or half lotus position for most of my life. For several years, however, I had severe back problems and got a headache after ten minutes.

As I came from the Zen tradition, I stuck rigidly to this sitting posture and was convinced that other positions were unsuitable. This fixation ultimately meant that I was unable to meditate properly for a long time.

Eventually, my menisci were torn, and I had to decide whether to meditate on the cushion or walk pain-free. I chose pain-free walking and attempted to meditate on a chair. 

Initially, I was frustrated because it felt unfamiliar. The sitting posture on the cushion was like an anchor for me, immediately bringing me to a different mental state. On a chair, on the other hand, it felt like ordinary everyday life.

Over time, however, I learned to appreciate the pain-free sitting and was no longer distracted by physical discomfort. In fact, I experienced my deepest meditations on the chair - even while standing and during walking meditation. 

So today I am grateful not to be bound by a strict external tradition.

The flow phenomenon in posture

There is a reciprocal relationship between posture and state of mind.

In Zen, the ideal posture attempts to support the desired state of mind.

However, there is another approach that is based on the flow principle. It somewhat reverses the principle: 

When I get into the desired state of mind, my body will naturally search for the appropriate sitting posture on its own.

It's about adopting the posture that feels right at the moment - with respect for the current feeling. If I feel depressed or tired, my body is allowed to sit accordingly. 

By remaining mindful of my body and emotional state, it gradually changes. The breath, initially perhaps shallow, becomes deeper. Tensions release, energy is freed, and the body naturally finds a healthy tension and the ideal posture on its own.

This approach has helped me personally more than the Zen approach.  

My recommendation

Orientate yourself to the traditional sitting posture and find out which one supports you best in your meditation. If it's difficult, try the flow principle and discover what works best for you.

In the first few minutes of meditation, we consciously begin to ground ourselves.  

• First, we feel the contact with the surface - the pressure of the seat cushion, the chair surface and the legs and feet resting on it.
• Then we transfer our entire body weight to the surface. We become aware of the weight and let it sink downward.
• At the same time, we release tensions in the upper areas of the body. As soon as we notice any tension, we can consciously release it.
• With each exhalation, we let the weight and energy flow downward.

With a little practice, it is enough to allow the weight to sink - the body will do the rest by itself. After a while, we should feel a stable contact with the ground, while the upper part of the body feels light.

Developing Hara

In Zen, there are various exercises to develop the Hara. It is a nerve plexus and energy center located about one palm below the navel. This is where the body's center of gravity should be.  

This brings consciousness from the head into the body. At the same time, we stabilize ourselves physically so that we can open up to the spiritual realm. Good grounding also prevents us from prematurely opening up spiritually.

A central principle of the Hara exercises is to let the energy sink down while exhaling.  

In my opinion, this is all you need.

However, special exercises should only be practiced under the guidance of a Zen master. Among other things, it is about centering energy in the Hara. I myself developed increased tension in the lower abdomen – an area where I already have too much tension. This has exacerbated my health problems in the intestinal area.

The foundation of meditation: Learning to ground

In the beginning, we need to consciously practice grounding to internalize it. It can be beneficial to focus predominantly on grounding throughout the entire meditation over several weeks.

Later on, however, every meditation always begins with grounding, regardless of how advanced you are.

When we develop a certain aspect and dedicate an exercise to it, we should give it enough time. It takes about six weeks for the body to make a habit of something.

We often tend to try something new too soon. 

If we change the exercise after just two weeks, we usually lose progress because the experience has not gone deep enough. Therefore, it makes sense to dedicate a longer period to such processes, e.g. six months.

Six weeks should be the absolute minimum.

Gathering oneself is the essential thing that happens in meditation. It means moving from a distracted state to a conscious state of being. This leads us towards the zero-point state.

In the first months, perhaps even years, we are mainly occupied in meditation with calming the thoughts. This is where the crucial change takes place – a preparation for everything that follows. 

I have already written about this in detail in “Part 2: 2.2. Phase 1 – The Beginning”. To refresh your motivation, it may be helpful to read these points again.

Staying with it – even if it takes a long time

It can feel like half an eternity before we experience the first moments of silence. 

But there is no reason to worry. We can be certain that a constant inner change is taking place. We also develop patience during this phase and learn to stay with it.

How we gather ourselves

Gathering oneself happens naturally when we do not lose sight of the object of meditation for an indefinite period of time. 

You can choose the breath or clear bodily sensations as a meditation object - such as the pressure of the ground we are sitting on, or the touch points of the fingertips.  

If we lose ourselves in thought and notice it, we simply return to the object of meditation.

That's basically all there is to do.

This aspect is often missing in meditation introductions. One could say that the instructions for advanced practitioners begin here. 

However, it is also valuable for beginners to be aware of this and start defocusing at an early stage.

Meditation is not an exercise in concentration. Although we initially need concentration to enter a meditative state, meditation itself is open and expansive mindfulness.

When we lead our awareness into expansiveness, we can begin to sense God.

Exercise: Visual defocusing

What defocusing means can be easily experienced with the visual sense:  

1. Hold both index fingers with outstretched arms in front of you.  
2. Focus your gaze on the fingertips.  
3. Slowly move your arms to the side until they are to the right and left of your body.
4. Try to keep both index fingers in view during the movement.  

For this, you must increasingly defocus your gaze. In the end, the fingers are only at the edges of your field of vision - it is precisely this expansiveness of perception that is the goal.

We apply this approach not only to the visual sense, but also to feeling and all of the senses.

Defocusing means not only perceiving individual sensations but becoming aware of all sensory impressions as a whole. This leads us to an all-encompassing mindfulness in the here and now. 

This is where sensitivity to the spiritual realm will open up later.

How does this work practically in meditation?

In meditation, we can begin to notice an additional perception alongside our meditation object. For example, we feel both the touch of the fingertips and the breathing. Then we add a third sensation - such as the pressure of the ground.  

Gradually, we expand our awareness: we feel the ground, the fingertips, the breathing movement, hear a sound, notice a thought or an inner image. 

Everything belongs to being present in this moment.  

Through defocusing, we eventually grasp all physical sensations simultaneously, hear what there is to hear, and perceive even subtle visual impressions with closed eyes. 

Over time, our consciousness expands further - initially to the space around us, and later to the spiritual realm as well.  

Basically, this would happen by itself, even without practice, if we meditate long enough. By practicing this during meditation, we prepare ourselves for these changes.

If we often lose ourselves in thoughts during meditation, we can try out various solutions and aids. 

1. Mental pointing / noting

Mental pointing or mental noting comes from the Vipassana tradition. It involves naming mental events, e.g. thinking, planning, inner dialog, justifying, dreaming about vacations, worrying. This is done silently, only in thoughts. 

By naming thoughts, feelings and sensations, we create a distanced perception so that our consciousness is not taken over by them.

Naming should be neutral and brief, without engaging further with the content. 

A further deepening involves becoming aware of the mood with which we speak the naming. Sometimes we do this not neutrally, but annoyed, angry, self-pitying, or sad. 

This allows us to recognize deeper emotional layers that lie behind the thoughts.

2. Recognizing the feelings behind the thoughts

As already mentioned, feelings are often the driving fire behind recurring thoughts. We can consciously try to perceive the mood or atmosphere that lies behind the thoughts.

Directing our awareness to this deeper level of perception is an elegant way to free ourselves from the dominance of thoughts. 

Physical sensations such as pain or tension often also contain emotional components. In addition, negative sensations can trigger rejection, which in turn triggers new feelings.

When we gradually become aware of all these levels, we develop a more comprehensive mindfulness.

3. Dedication to this moment

If we constantly lose ourselves in thoughts, it is a sure sign that we are not mindful. 

But here lies the strongest weapon against the dominance of thoughts: 

the complete surrender to the present moment. 

Unpleasant feelings, which we unconsciously want to avoid, often drive us into endless cycles of thoughts. 

However, if we consciously move into pure perception with full presence, this mechanism can be broken.

Here we can also test our willingness to truly feel the unpleasant. 

Perhaps it takes a new attempt to allow and accept everything as it is.

When we decide to meditate regularly, the question arises: How often and for how long should one meditate or pray? I would like to provide some pointers on this. 

In the beginning, the duration plays a subordinate role. 

What matters most is simply to start and to integrate meditation into daily life on a regular basis. Ten to twelve minutes is a reasonable starting point. For those who can do a bit more, meditating twice a day is often more effective in the beginning than a single 20-minute session.

Over time, it is advisable to extend the meditation duration to at least 20 to 25 minutes. 

For ten minutes, it is possible to keep thoughts silent with strong concentration. Many beginners enter meditation with great concentration, but after about 15 minutes, this decreases, and only then do they really confront their thoughts – this is where the real process begins. 

On the other hand, those who start with less concentration are already flooded with thoughts at the beginning. However, after about 15 to 20 minutes, the events begin to calm down on their own. Therefore, a meditation time of 25 minutes is a good guideline. 

The desire to meditate longer usually arises on its own.

Personally, I extended my meditation time because I often reached a better state only near the end of a session—something opened up or became quieter. I wanted to experience those positive states for longer, so I gradually increased my sitting time.

Walking meditation exists in many traditions and in various forms. It often serves as a break between two meditation sessions to stretch one's legs. 

In a Soto Zen temple in Japan, I encountered a very slow form of walking meditation. It was also practiced there between Zazen sitting meditations.

Walking meditation: An underestimated practice

Walking meditation is often seen as a secondary alternative to the main form of sitting. For a long time, I also considered sitting to be the only method to achieve deep meditative states.

For me, walking meditation has become more than just a secondary variation of sitting meditation - it is now one of my primary forms of meditation.

I usually begin in a sitting posture and then switch to walking meditation after 20 to 30 minutes. This also suits my aging body, which finds long sitting sessions increasingly uncomfortable. 

My principle is: The outer form should best support the inner process. 

Movement in meditation

In Zen, there is a rule that one should not move during meditation. 

One reason is to interrupt conditioned movements - such as the reflexive scratching of an itch. Instead of reacting impulsively, one is encouraged to consciously observe the itching sensation without moving.

The same applies to constantly adjusting the sitting posture because one feels it isn’t comfortable or optimal yet. Such small adjustments can disrupt the meditation.

However, even Zen monks move their breathing muscles during meditation.

The breathing movement is an unconsciously controlled, even, and rhythmic movement. This type of movement supports us in meditation and is by no means disruptive.

Likewise, slow, rhythmic walking - synchronized with the breath - can become a supportive movement.

The key is to practice it in such a way that it flows effortlessly. It takes several weeks for the body to internalize the movement and harmonize it seamlessly with the breath.

Then it no longer disrupts meditation.  

My personal form of walking meditation  

I have developed a form of walking meditation for myself that leads me into deep states. It follows no strict outer form, as in Zen, but simply involves very slow walking in rhythm with the breath.

As I inhale, I take a tiny step forward with my left foot - just a few centimeters. Since exhaling is significantly longer and leads us deeper into meditation, I let my full body weight sink down onto my right foot while exhaling.

In the Zen version, you lift the foot while inhaling and place it back down while exhaling. The step length is about half a foot, so you take one full step per breath cycle.

Finding your own form  

I’m not a fan of strict external forms, as every body responds differently. What matters is understanding the principle and finding the form that personally leads you most effectively into meditation.

If you’re looking for your own method, it may be helpful to try the Zen version. It’s based on the long-standing experience of Zen masters and offers a proven foundation for walking meditation.
 

Let us now explore how to deal effectively with pain and all unpleasant sensations that may arise during meditation.

There are a few important distinctions to make.

Avoidable and unavoidable pain  

The first distinction we should make is whether the unpleasant experience is avoidable or unavoidable.

Pain and discomfort from sitting posture

This applies especially to physical pain resulting from the sitting posture. Our goal should be to find a posture that suits us personally and allows us to sit for longer periods without pain.

Anyone who sits motionless on the floor will, after about 30 minutes, encounter some discomfort. If you still feel that this posture supports you best, then a certain level of pain may be considered unavoidable.

In my case, I used to sit for 90 minutes daily in a half-lotus posture - despite having torn menisci. While the pain was tolerable during meditation, it was damaging to my health in the long run.

At the latest, when your body starts to suffer damage, it’s time to find a new sitting posture.

However, it is normal at the beginning for the body to first have to get used to a new sitting posture. It's about finding the right body tension and letting go of unnecessary muscle tension. This adaptation process can take weeks to months and initially also cause unpleasant sensations, which disappear later.  

Ultimately, you have to decide for yourself what you classify as avoidable or unavoidable.  

Unpleasant states as a mirror of life

During meditation, we also encounter unpleasant states, emotions, energies, and bodily sensations. Sometimes these are an indication that something in our life is not in balance - we should then look for ways to balance it.  

If we’re constantly struggling with fatigue or sleepiness, it may be wise to get more sleep. If we find it hard to sit still because we’ve spent the whole day at a desk, perhaps our body needs more movement.

Much of what we experience in meditation, however, remains unavoidable.  

Mental states and spiritual solutions

During the renovation of our house, I was always tired in the evenings when meditating. The only alternatives would have been to stop the renovation or skip evening meditation. So I decided to continue meditating despite the fatigue - sometimes struggling more, sometimes less. At times, the meditation consisted mainly of not falling asleep.

One evening it was particularly difficult. I did a walking meditation with my mantra. 

Suddenly, I felt very intensely an energy flowing up through my legs - and I was instantly wide awake. 

Experiences like this show that behind even seemingly natural fatigue, spiritual forces may be at work - both positive and negative.

Ascetic aspect

Fighting fatigue is probably more of an ascetic practice than a prayerful one. You could just as well fast or do something similar. Ascetic practices can support spiritual progress.

How much asceticism you employ is entirely up to you.

Fatigue as a spiritual challenge

It is important to keep in mind that there is also spiritually induced fatigue. This cannot be resolved by any amount of sleep. 

The Buddha counted fatigue among the five main mental hindrances on the path to enlightenment. Sun Myung Moon often emphasized that overcoming the desires for food, sleep, and sex is one of the core spiritual battles.

If you’re actually well rested but still constantly fighting sleep during meditation, you should approach this mindfully - and not give up too quickly.

Over time, you develop a sense for it.

The spiritual challenges we face can vary greatly from person to person.

Discomfort as a forerunner of grace

I have often experienced strong discomfort at the beginning of meditation. My whole body feels tense, almost painful.

I just want to get up and stop.

But I know these states well and have learned that they almost always dissolve during the meditation.

By the end, I usually feel physically and mentally at ease.

This discomfort often disappears shortly before a breakthrough in prayer.

By "breakthrough," I mean, for example, that something opens up inside and suddenly a light, bright, loving atmosphere surrounds me. 

Such phenomena clearly indicate that these are spiritual-energetic processes.

Emotional reparation

I experience something similar when facing emotional challenges. When I feel emotionally unwell - restless, anxious, or burdened by negative feelings - these states often dissolve during meditation or at least become noticeably lighter.

Such states often relate to external life events. There are days when nothing seems to work - and sometimes whole phases where things just don't go well. 

Ideally, we should accept such times with calm.

This is where the interplay between our inner state and meditation becomes particularly clear: when, after such a phase, prayer becomes deep and pleasant again, life on the outside often begins to flow once more.

I see these phases as a natural part of both life and the spiritual path.

One might say that we’re “paying” some form of reparation - and grace arrives in due time.

Before almost every profound experience of grace I’ve had, there was usually an uncomfortable phase that preceded it. In a way, one can even be glad when things become difficult inside - because that may be a sign that grace is near.

You need to gain your own experiences and observe these phenomena mindfully. 

Gaining insights through experiments

It can be very insightful to experiment with certain behaviors for a while. We can intentionally respond to a phenomenon in a specific way and directly observe the results.

When nothing seems to be going right, for example, we can consciously let go and release our plans for the day. Even if it's difficult, we shift our inner struggle toward letting go, rather than fighting to reach a goal.

Through this mindful approach to specific situations, we gain valuable life experience.

It’s about becoming more aware of the spiritual dynamics at work in life.

When we clearly understand what certain states can mean, we learn to deal with them more calmly and successfully.

What else can we do, besides just persisting?

If we have already gathered some experience and are confronted with an unpleasant phenomenon, we can initially continue to meditate mindfully. Much resolves just by staying present and enduring for a while.

Recognizing aversion – and finding liberation

One central challenge we encounter, especially at the beginning of the contemplative path, is our aversion to discomfort.

As soon as something becomes unpleasant, we want to get rid of it. 

With physical sensations, we feel the urge to move or stop altogether. With mental states, we start thinking or drifting off. We avoid truly feeling the discomfort by stepping away from mindfulness.

But this only makes things worse.

The suffering we feel is intensified by our resistance to the unpleasant.

As already mentioned, this aversion is one of the major mental hindrances in the Buddha’s teachings. We can consciously do the opposite of what our conditioning tells us - namely, to stay present.

Fully surrendering to the moment

When we consciously and wholeheartedly throw ourselves into the present moment, we quickly find our way back to mindfulness. One possible inner attitude might be:

"I want to feel this discomfort fully and intensely now."

When we succeed in doing this, the unpleasant feeling often transforms - either becoming neutral or at least bearable.

Here we experience the Buddha’s teaching directly in our own body.

Another method we can use in such moments is to label the sensation using Mental Noting.

Motivation is a crucial and ongoing theme on the path to God. 

How can we stay motivated for this journey when so many things in everyday life seem to occupy our attention?

The motivation of love

The deepest and eternally sustaining motivation is love - the longing for God, which encompasses our love for Him. It is not a selfish longing or love, but that force which enables us to let go of everything else. 

It even allows us to develop the willingness to let go of ourselves for a moment.

It is the only thing that safely leads us beyond death - that moment when we must let go of everything and can only guess what awaits us in the afterlife.

The writings of Saint Macarius had an enormous motivating effect on me. They gave me the courage to trust in God and to stop relying on myself, but rather on Him.

Letting go of everything and trusting in God leads us into a temporary emptiness - into a zero-point state, in which a vacuum of love is created.

This vacuum is then filled by God Himself, and in the end, He will give us everything. 

We are reborn by God in His love.

Because we often do not yet have direct access to this deepest motivation - this longing for God - we need the path of prayer. It leads us to this innermost point of our being.

At the beginning of the path, we do not yet have access to our innermost love - the love that carries and motivates us eternally. That’s why, at first, it’s about discovering what currently motivates you.

You should take enough time for this and write down the results. If something new emerges within you later, update your notes accordingly.

Once you’ve recognized your initial motivation, it’s important to regularly bring it back into your awareness.

Over time, its power will naturally diminish – and this is when conscious effort is needed to keep it alive.

Rituals and practice for a stable orientation

It is helpful to develop a small ritual – for example, pausing for a moment before each meditation to reconnect with your motivation.

To stabilize your inner orientation, it’s wise to make the spiritual path a central theme in your life: read books, attend workshops and retreats, seek exchange with others - all of this can be supportive.

A community can be especially helpful, whether it’s a local or a virtual meditation group you attend regularly.

Once you’ve walked this path for a while, you’ll begin to experience spiritual guidance.

You’ll increasingly recognize that you are being guided – and that gives you strength and confidence to continue on.

Deepening motivation through spiritual nourishment

We can deepen our motivation by engaging inwardly with spiritual writings and with people who already live from a deeper motivation.

This creates a resonance on the deeper levels of our being.

For me, it has been and is essential to engage with spiritual and mystical content. It is a fixed part of my daily prayer practice. Silent prayer is always followed by a reading. I also regularly read books about saints - their personal stories often touch me very deeply.

Note on biographies

There are different types of saint biographies. Hagiographies are often highly idealized portrayals of the person and their life. Their advantage is that they preserve the spiritual aspect and inner spirit.

Then there are purely academic biographies. These are often very detailed and usually critical of mystical experiences -  in such cases, the spirit is often lost.

Finally, there are narratives that are both authentic and spiritual. In them, you also learn about the difficulties of the respective person, which makes them more relatable. In such stories, we often recognize ourselves - and at the same time see the spiritual solutions these people were guided to.

I pay close attention to whether a book conveys the spirit.

My personal motivation

As a source of inspiration, I would like to share some aspects of my own motivation with you.

On the one hand, I feel a deep longing to experience God more immediately in reality. I have learned many concepts and ideas about God - but my desire is to encounter Him beyond all images and mental constructs, as He truly is. Being inwardly close to Him is one of my greatest goals.

Another motivation arises from dissatisfaction with my inner state. I desire more inner freedom and love. Part of this dissatisfaction can indeed come from the judgmental ego. 

At the same time, it is also a primal impulse that arises when we clearly recognize our limitations. 

Deep within, we sense that our true, loving nature wants to unfold.

An additional drive is the desire to bring joy to God, to give something back to Him.

There may be unconscious psychological patterns behind this - for example, if we took on too much responsibility for our parents’ well-being in childhood. Such patterns can resonate in our spiritual striving.

Yet this impulse is also an expression of our loving nature:

The love we have received, we naturally want to pass on.

What especially motivates me is the vision of a life in heaven.

This vision is very simple: I feel love in my innermost being - a love that God gives to everything. 

This innermost impulse is one with the divine impulse. I follow it at every moment of my life - without resistance. Neither body nor mind opposes. There are no conflicting wishes or needs anymore. Nothing from the outside distracts me.

I simply follow the impulse of my heart. 

To me, that is true freedom - and at the same time, bliss in every moment.