Soon I will walk into the universe of White Light Black Whole. Maybe the days will feel like floating in an egg of light; a place to rest, a place to listen and feel a change of feathers.

Sound is sacred, sound is a seed we all carry with us. Our breath is an ordinary miracle. Everyday. In out, in out. As a visiting under the poetic wings of the psyciathric ward I will share a simple soundmeditation. I wonder if it can bring a little softness to the healthcare system: In soundmeditation we do not meet each other in logos, we meet each other from the heart. With our own individual note as everyone has their own unique frequency in this earthly choir. Sharing sound is healing: I wonder what will happen if healthcare personnel and daily users both participate in the circle where everyone shows vulnerability by singing, I wonder if this trust might weave itself into other days and meetings and treatments on the ward.

I have been sewing a dress, I have been sewing and singing into the cloth, a dress that I will wear in White Light Black Whole, I made pockets in it to carry seeds of care, trust and wonder: how will time behave in me, when I let go of it or rather when I embrace it tenderly, how will the softness unfold in me and in the other participating beeings, how will we carry these days with us, which seeds will grow from our meeting under the fair autumn equinox moon.