I set my focus fully on the rock wall, sensing and feeling the stone, the nooks and crannies and its rough surface and it turned into a game. ​​​

I went up and down again, left then right, then up again and down, not my mind leading the way, but my heart. And then – all of a sudden – I had reached the top of the cliff. I was in complete disbelief.
 
The white gorilla smiled gently at me and said, “Look!” I looked up and saw a vast, lush green valley stretching out before our eyes, the sun rising in the distance bathing it in golden light. The gorilla made an inviting gesture with his left arm, “A whole new world is waiting for you with open arms.”
 
I sat down next to the gorilla elder, calmness filling me, and we watched the sunrise, at peace, enjoying the moment. 
 
A few months after my journey I noticed something. My fear of heights was gone. It hit me, when I was standing on top of a shaky ladder cleaning the windows looking down on the streets of Vienna. ​

Drawing

"White Frilled Lizard", white pastels, Kristin Raphaela Otti (2024, Hotel Hecher, Wolfsberg, Carinthia)
​

I have a lot of fond memories of my time as a teacher, but there was one particular moment, when I was especially proud of my students and their courage. The whole class had decided to confront me about something, they had been witnessing for a few weeks. 

Back then I was still teaching German as a foreign language as well as how to read and write. My students were teenagers and adults alike, from different backgrounds and cultures. Some of them a lot older than me, retiring soon, others could have been my own kids. 

One morning, after I had greeted my students, put my coffee mug ceremoniously on my desk – it usually made my students laugh – and was about to begin the lesson, one of the men put his hand up. He seemed nervous. There was tension in the room.

​I asked him to speak and he said, “Mrs. Otti, this cannot go on like this. We have to speak to your husband. At once.” I was confused and replied, “I am not married.” “Then we have to speak to your boyfriend. This cannot go on like this. We won’t just watch this happening anymore.” Now I was completely confused and said, “I don’t have a boyfriend. I live alone. What is this about?” ​

​
"After practice or a game I walk home with fresh bruises. It is part of my task on the team. The shots are hard. What’s more, I wear a jersey with short sleeves which is unusual for a goaltender. Why? Long-sleeved protective gear just gets unbearably hot.”
​
I pointed at my bruises, one after the other, “This ball did not find its way behind me into our net. Not in our net. Not in. Saved. The ones that hurt are the ones you cannot see on my skin, for those shots have found their way into our goal.” 
 
At first, they seemed skeptical, but then some of the men lit up and said, “Like a soccer goalie!”

I had team training that day, so I had my goalie gear in my office. I asked my students, if they wanted to take a look at it. Of course.

​The lesson turned into a discussion about competitive sports. One student revealed that she was a swimmer and had participated in world championships and another student had played as a professional soccer player in his home country before the war had started. I invited all of my students to our game the following weekend. ​

When the lesson had ended, my students wanted to apologize to me. I interrupted them and said, “Never ever apologize for asking someone, where his or her bruises and injuries come from. Never ever. You don’t know, what the man, woman or child in front of you has experienced. Your words can change a life. Look and see, what is there. Speak up. Listen. Every single one of you has given me a great gift today. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for having the courage to speak up.”
 
Dare to see.

Dare to speak.

​Dare to listen.

​Dare to be the difference. ​

When I returned to work after a lengthy battle for health, I was challenged time after time to shed my skin, let go of the old and grow a new set of scales, only for my skin to get too tight again. I would be called to go on journeys beyond the veils from time to time and I enjoyed them immensely. There were lessons to be learned and sometimes the lessons came with a lot of good-hearted humor. 
 
One day a beautiful skunk strolled into my energy field and asked me, if I wanted to go for a walk together with her. Her energy was inviting and friendly and she wore a red flower on her head. So naturally, I said yes. 
 
Since I enjoyed shapeshifting immensely at that time and it would be good training, I decided to shapeshift into a skunk as well. At that time, gravity was still conditioned into my mind and since I am a perfectionist Capricorn, the process of shapeshifting back then was more like reading a chapter out of a biology book describing every little detail. My skunk friend was watching me patiently while I was shapeshifting. I started at the wrong end and gravity had its say. Like I said, if you have gravity on your mind, gravity will remind you of its existence.

The skunk was smiling gently, while I was getting the dust out of my fresh coat of fur and then we set of. We ran through the woods, played tag under the trees, jumped over roots and simply enjoyed our time together. Then we came to a clearing. My skunk friend stopped on the edge of the clearing and smiled at me. There was a shaman dancing in the middle of the clearing. He wore a skunk pelt on his head and nothing else. He seemed perfectly happy, enjoying the moment with a serene smile on his face. I looked at my skunk friend, then back at the shaman and back at my skunk friend again. “You are perfectly fine with this.” She kept on smiling her gentle smile, nodded and said, “Yes.” Then she slightly touched the flower on her head and started dancing, too.