Life - the 2nd stage
The everyday life of the miners who dug the Philippstollen from 1749 onwards was certainly no walk in the park. They came from the surrounding villages. In the morning, they looked after the chickens and pigs at home. Then they set off on a kilometer-long journey to Eisenberg, 606 meters high, near Olsberg. They toiled underground for ten or twelve hours, then went back home and looked after the animals again. No wonder they often only lived to the age of 40 back then. The further I follow Mr. Stahlmecke into the tunnels, the more I can sense how hostile this environment is. People really have no business here. Too cold, too wet, too windy, too dangerous. But they wanted something from the mountain, they wanted its treasures, in this case iron ore, in other cases gold, which has been found in many places in the Sauerland. To achieve this, they braved fatigue and illness and worked close to death every day.
After 600 meters, I can suddenly stretch and lift my head. And see that we are standing in a grotto. We light candles that are lying around somewhere. In their glow, the walls shine in all shades of red, the rock arches above us at a height of more than four meters. When all the candles are lit, the whole scene unfolds. A bat has clung to a small ledge under the ceiling, hanging upside down. Somewhere in the background, the mine water gurgles. At the side of the grotto, flat stones are piled up as high as a man, a kind of altar. On it stands a black arc of light, as we know it from the Ore Mountains. To the right is a wayside shrine to Saint Barbara, a dark metal figure framed by light-colored wood. She is the patron saint of miners. This place was dedicated to her when the Philippstollen became a visitor mine.
SUDDENLY THE GROTTO APPEARS TO ME
LIKE AN UPSIDE-DOWN PEAK
Her veneration has a long tradition here. Before the men went into the tunnel in the morning, they saluted a picture of St. Barbara and asked for her help. In the evening, when they saw daylight again, they greeted her again and thanked her for her protection. After all, they repeatedly witnessed miners being injured by falling boulders. Or even buried, beyond repair. What else could they do but surrender to God? Even I, as a visitor who reached the Barbara Grotto relatively comfortably and safely, can understand their forlornness in the cold corridors, their immeasurable need for protection and comfort.
The grotto reminds me, the passionate mountain hiker, of the scenery in the high mountains. The piles of stones that lead the way on the mountain. The rugged rock. The gurgling streams. The silence above 2000 meters. Finally, the summit cross, in this case a statue of Barbara, to thank you for the hardships you have overcome. Suddenly the grotto seems like an upside-down summit, buried deep in the mountain.
The tunnel is not only visited by those interested in geology. A trombone choir has also played in the Barbara Grotto and poems have been recited there in front of a small audience. Stahlmecke says that since the Steigerhäuschen next to the entrance to the gallery is now available for weddings, weddings are also possible. The formula of good times and bad times, spoken underground, would certainly carry special weight.
I leave the Philippstollen deeply moved and also a little relieved. With squinting eyes back in the April sun, I ask myself what the power of the places of strength actually consists of? What is their charisma based on? I sense a high level of intensity in the Philippstollen and in many of the places I visit during my exploration of the Sauerland.
The sociologist Hartmut Rosa calls this phenomenon resonance. This term actually comes from physics and refers to vibrations that are triggered by the supply of energy. Rosa applies this term to human relationships. To others, to nature, to the world in general. Something reaches a person within them and they react to it with their own response. We can be moved by the beauty of a flower, a line of poetry, the look in another person's eyes, but also by the smell of a pile of manure. This triggers thoughts, feelings and actions in us. However, resonance is not an echo, nothing mechanical. The same touch can trigger completely different reactions in another person.
Nature is a particularly important resonance chamber for us humans. We are nature ourselves. When we consciously move in it, we recognize our own self, our own vitality. How we love and fight, eat and drink, breathe and sleep. When nature touches us, we always touch ourselves. This is how the power that I feel is created, this is how soulful places are created.
THE FOREST FLOOR, THICKLY PADDED WITH MOSS
BEGINS TO STEAM
Many of Sauerland's places of power are located in nature. This includes the Hollenfelsen, a half-day hike south of the Philippstollen. Before we walk up from the parking lot on the outskirts of Bödefeld, my companion, photographer Klaus-Peter Kappe, tells me the legend of the Hollen. They are good forest creatures. And that's why it's not a rock we're heading for, but the Hollenhaus.
And so the legend goes: the Hollen lived deep in the rock and were friendly to kind people and helpful in times of need. They loved the Bödefeld children, who loved to play near the rock, and joined them. In the evening, when the little ones had to go home, they gave them beautiful, shiny stones. Pure gold! This aroused the greed of the adults. They searched for the treasure's hiding place to steal it. As punishment, the Hollen blocked all the entrances and turned their house into a giant rock. They were never seen again.
For centuries, this rock has touched people in the area. The old legend they spun around it is an expression of this resonance. We approach on a forest path that climbs gently. It has started to rain, lightly at first, then in torrents, and now, as we reach the viewpoint at the top of the rock, hail is pelting down on us. We all agree: get back to dry land as soon as possible. But then the hail stops abruptly, the sun fights its way through and we witness a divine spectacle. The forest floor, thickly padded with moss, begins to steam. Mist rises. Rays of sunlight penetrate the canopy of the beech trees, fanning out as if their light were refracted through colored stained glass windows. The bright yellow lichen on the rocks begins to glow. Against this backdrop, the bare trunks of dead trees look like the pillars and columns of a mighty cathedral, the large tree mushrooms on them like stone sculptures. A line from the poem "The Church of Nature" comes to mind: "Inside, moss-covered benches offer a friendly invitation to quiet contemplation."
My companion feels the same way. "We live in a landscape that has been shaped by man through and through," says Klaus-Peter Kappe. "But here, at the Hollenfelsen, a chunk of unspoiled nature bursts out of the ground. For me, this is the great cathedral of the forest, where I feel closer to the elemental force of nature and God than in other places."
RESONANCE CANNOT BE CREATED.
IT HAPPENS
Time for an interim conclusion. What about my exploration of what the Sauerland-Seelenorte have in common? In my experience, they always have a powerful effect when they are aesthetic and authentic; when they have a special meaning for the people in their surroundings, not only today but also in earlier times; and when they touch people emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Resonance cannot be manufactured. It happens. However, it is possible to name conditions that are conducive to something resonating in people. These include direct contact, being fully present with one's thoughts, slowing down and leisure. Many of these favorable factors come into play when hiking. It is one of the resonance sports, as the English trend researcher Oona Horx-Strathern calls them:
"They can trigger an impulse that changes our lives, our outlook, our inner attitudes. Beyond the expected positive effects on our physical and mental well-being. Resonance sports attract people who are looking for a new connection." All of this is particularly true of hiking.
The example of the Hollenfels makes it clear how important it is to create good conditions so that a place can touch us. Although we have a beautiful view of the valley from the vantage point at the top of the cliffs, we feel less resonance than on the new path that leads from the forest road up to the awe-inspiring rock.
The slow ascent opens up ever more spectacular views of the steep wall. Step by step, feeling your way up, getting involved. Rock sculptures emerge, into which we fantasize mythical creatures. We enjoy the play of colors of lichens and mosses, the dance of mist and sun. The skillful dramaturgy of the approach makes the place 'shine in the best light'.
From Hollenfelsen, I head east towards Düdinghausen. I had found the term 'adventure village for nature and history' on the Internet, which had aroused my curiosity. This is also where the 'Freistuhl' is located, a courthouse square that has been chosen as a place of power. I had only seen two carved stones in photos and wondered what was so fascinating about them.
'BERENDES' HAD A WITCHCRAFT DISPUTE AROUND 1600
A WITCHCRAFT DISPUTE WITH A NEIGHBOR
I meet Horst Frese at the village church. The 73-year-old is the chairman of the local history and tourist association. First surprise: we know each other from the past. He worked as a lawyer in the nature conservation department at the district president's office, while I did my civilian service at BUND in Münster. After his retirement, he returned to his birthplace. His love for the village and its 460 inhabitants shines through as he pursues his favorite pastime today: talking about Düdinghausen.
We stroll past half-timbered houses, many of them over 100 years old, the one called 'Michels' has even been standing since 1677. Frese knows all the house names that have been preserved over the centuries, even if buildings have been demolished and rebuilt in the same place. He also knows the stories behind the four walls. One of the 'Königs' emigrated to America. 'Berendes' had a witchcraft dispute with a neighbor around 1600. One street further on, in 1723, the Protestant and Catholic priests went at each other, not with spiritual arguments, but with planks. And the 'Jägers' of all people acted as poachers: father and son were caught red-handed in the forest in 1735, shot and dishonorably buried - next to the cemetery. Frese tells the story from house to house, visibly proud of the historical wealth of the small village.
On the southern edge, we reach the Freistuhl. It belongs to the historic Freigrafschaft Düdinghausen and its eight Saxon villages. A stately seat made of stone, with a carved star from the coat of arms of the von Waldeck family, to whose Grafschaft the village long belonged. A sword, symbolizing the power of life and death, has been engraved into the surface of the judge's table, which is also made of stone. Next to it is a young lime tree, as they were traditionally planted in court places. From a sober point of view, there is nothing more than two stones, a small tree and a view of an expansive farming landscape with meadows and fields.
But as Horst Frese tells the story, a historical drama begins in my head: "The baron sat here on this chair. He was appointed by the count to dispense justice. To his left and right were seven aldermen. These were respected farmers with considerable landholdings. They confidently helped to determine the verdicts. Following the Germanic tradition of the 'Thing', the court met in the open air. That is why the chair had to be made of stone. The hearings were open to the public. If the villagers disagreed with the verdict of the free count and the aldermen, the case had to be heard again. This had a democratic character. In addition to the sword, there was sometimes a rope on the table in cases where a death sentence was imminent. That was also carried out immediately."
But mostly the negotiations were about trivial disputes. A boundary stone was secretly moved, a neighbor's cow was injured, broken glass was broken in a tavern brawl. Eight villages were subject to the jurisdiction that emanated from this place. "That was real peace work," explains Horst Frese. It was a matter of constantly re-establishing harmony and concord - important in those times when the villagers depended on each other for better or worse. Judgments were passed on "free goods, paths and footbridges, as well as debts and damages and similar civil matters". Victim-offender mediation was already practiced back then. Anyone who had harmed another had to pay compensation. This even applied in cases of adultery: the rival had to pay compensation to the victim.
DÜ WOL WAIST WHY
A kind of criminal court, the 'secret eight', met less frequently and in camera. The Düdinghausen crime scene: on a September day in 1539, a farmhand named Hanns Unland pinned a feud letter to the church door. He declared enmity against the farmer Thiele - to protect his honor. 'Dü wol waist why', you know why. He spread the word in the village that Thiele had tried to incite him to kill the new Lutheran pastor. Was the farmer a secret rebel against the lords of Waldeck, under whose protection the pastor stood? Or was someone taking revenge for low wages paid to a servant? When Unland absconded, he was pursued, arrested and brought before the secret eight. The Freigraf had done some research and confronted the servant with his previous "misdeeds, theft and robbery", he is even said to have committed murder. The intrigue did not end well for the servant: He ended up on the gallows.
Frese tells of border disputes between the Waldecks and the Electors of Cologne, of the battle for gold that was found nearby, of love affairs and political intrigues. Stories from history touch us because we recognize ourselves in them, our own fears and conflicts, sufferings and joys. Frese tells us about all this while we sit on the Freistuhl in the sunshine, surrounded by bumblebees. With his descriptions, he has transformed two blocks of stone and a small tree into the backdrop for a thriller. "You only see what you know", as Goethe once said. But Horst Frese has more than just historical Wissen. The fact that his descriptions touch me is mainly due to the passion with which he dedicates himself to the history of his own village. Deeply connected to his homeland, he becomes a credible witness. The Freistuhl, for example, is so important to him that he donated his own land for it. The spark jumps over.
After saying goodbye to him, I realize how important such passionate storytellers are for the Sauerland-Seelenorte. All the places were suggested by people who live near them, who know them well and to whom they mean a lot. Places of power also work because they are animated by the fire of enthusiasm. I felt it with Wolfgang Kraft, who revealed the secret of the Almequellen to me; with Klaus-Peter Kappe, who works internationally as a photographer and raves about the Hollenfelsen; with Siegfried Stahlmecke, who tirelessly guides visitors to the Barbara Grotto. I also experience it with the place narrators, whom I will meet later.
THE FORMULA IS:
CLOSE TO HOME AND COSMOPOLITAN.
They have another characteristic in common, which she recommends as an important and suitable medium: they do not lapse into glorification and homeland fussiness. Pride and joy in one's own regional wealth includes respect for differences. The formula is: close to home and open to the world.
Such an attitude seems to me to be an important prerequisite for introducing visitors to the places of power in a sympathetic way. I am reminded of the speech by Federal President Frank Walter Steinmeier, in which he talks about a modern understanding of home: "The faster the world turns around us, the greater the longing for home. A place where I know my way around, where I have orientation and can rely on my own judgment. Home points to the future, not the past. Home is the place that we create as a society."
The research at the Sauerland-Seelenorte, the encounters with open and warm-hearted people are a healing experience for me. I have to admit that as a teenager, I didn't go far beyond the Oberhundem - Kirchhundem - Altenhundem axis.
beyond the Oberhundem - Kirchhundem - Altenhundem axis. Now facets are becoming visible, a greater diversity. Old clichés make way for differentiated perception. Each place inspires me in its own unique way, each one reflects different aspects of human vitality.
I am sure that my mood in these places can be completely different on other days. With other visitors anyway. Resonance is unpredictable. Touch and the response to it follow the moment. And yet there are similarities: All places invite you to switch off and take a break. I think they are best described with the words: living silence.