Birth - the 1st stage
Now the Alme begins to make noises. It purrs, sighs, bubbles. It is growing fast. A few meters further on, I experience it as someone pushing quite a wave and drawing attention to itself with a pubescent roar. How does it gather this power? Where does all this water come from? After a few more minutes of walking, the spring finally grows into an unrestrained stream several meters wide. It goes so fast, I can hardly keep up. Together we reach a large pond on the edge of the village, which has been dammed up by an earth dam. Here, the Alme can take a rest from this quick start. It becomes still, as if it wants to reflect. And yet it retains its innate liveliness. With rising bubbles and rings on the crystal-clear water, it reveals other underground tributaries that nourish it. The pond is also a spring.
I have an appointment with a resident of Alme who wants to explain this place of power to me. The fact that his name is Kraft, of all things, makes us both smile. Wolfgang Kraft , 65, is a volunteer with Alme AG. The association wants to keep the village alive, despite the pull of the nearby towns. The attraction that the springs exert on walkers and long-distance hikers plays an important role in this; the local inns also benefit from this.
THE ALME ACTUALLY SPRINGS FROM
AN OCEAN.
Kraft describes the miracle of the Alme's birth like this: The valley lies on the edge of the Brilon plateau, which consists of what is known as mass limestone at depth. This was deposited here 350 million years ago, from the shells of dying corals, when everything here was sea. The high proportion of limestone in the soil is easily leached out, leaving the surrounding mountains and hills cracked and pitted on the inside. Rainwater collects underground, and because it accumulates in the Mühlental on a layer of impermeable shale, it emerges here. The conclusion of this geological history in fast motion: the Alme actually springs from an ocean.
Wolfgang Kraft says that he often walks upstream along the Alme in the evenings. One of his favorite places is the eagle owl rock, from where he can look out over the Mühlental valley like a bird of prey. "I switch off up here, calm down and think about the day again." He worked at the adult education center for a long time, often taking part in natural history and historical excursions, until he himself became a spring narrator and a bubbling source of stories.
What is a place of the soul? What makes it special? That is the aim of my journey: I want to find out what connects the 43 places, what common qualities are recognizable. I intend to visit every single one. These include places as diverse as the parish church in Wormbach, the Philippstollen in Brilon, a quarry in Grevenbrück and the Lausebuche near Oberelspe. Why are they important to people? What mysterious ingredient animates them?
One answer can already be found here, at the beginning of the exploration: The essential quality of these sites is silence. They are oases of rest and tranquillity, far away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life and street noise. This is why they are so well suited to the decelerated form of hiking. And that is also why they offer inspiration. You can pause, come to yourself, reorient yourself for everyday life. They are not distracting, but can serve as inspiration for your own thoughts and feelings. Mirror of the soul.
This is also evident in the next place I visit. An hour's drive south of Alme is the small town of Hallenberg. Around 4500 inhabitants, nestled against the eastern foothills of the Rothaargebirge. A constant bone of contention between princes and bishops in the course of its eventful history, today it is still a border town with Hessen. Here, too, I am looking for a birthplace. Not of a river, but of the town itself. Surprisingly, I don't find it in the magnificent 13th century parish church that dominates the center of Hallenberg. Instead, it is down below, at the south-eastern exit of the town, right next to the busy main road.
There stands the much smaller Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. The people of Hallenberg just call it 'the Unterkirche'. As I enter and close the low wooden door behind me, the noise of the cars suddenly stops. Even the sun seems to want to stay outside. Dim light surrounds me. The windows are tiny. Slowly, my eyes adjust and earth-colored frescoes become visible on the walls and in the vaulted ceiling. This is the main decoration of the Unterkirche. Its oldest part was built more than 1000 years ago. Baroque splendor is completely absent. My gaze is magically drawn to the statue of the Virgin Mary behind the altar. 'Our Lady of Merklinghausen' has a different aura to the serious-looking Madonnas I am used to. She is smiling.
Mary is wearing a purple cloak and a diamond-studded cross. The divine child in her arms also looks quietly happy. The statue has been worshipped for hundreds of years and her smile attracts hundreds of pilgrims every year in August. Healings have been reported, although not proven. The church has a firm place in the life of the town and is one of the attractions on guided tours. My local guide, Edeltraud Müller, says that the people of Hallenberg are particularly generous when donations are requested for the Unterkirche.
During an inspection, when the aim was to sense the spiritual qualities of the church, the participants had given free rein to their thoughts, as was the method. Some also had associations of the womb and uterus with the church. I asked Ms. Müller if that didn't irritate her - a spiritual place as a womb? She smiles and thinks about it for a while. Then she says: "It's true: this is a birthplace. Where the church stands, there was once the village of Merklinghausen. It fell into desolation, in other words was abandoned. All that remained of it was the church, and it became the origin of Hallenberg." And so, for the first time, I find what I am looking for in my search for what connects the two soulful places. Two places as different as the Almequellen and the Unterkirche have a few things in common: they both mark a beginning. They both point the way to life.