Kurt Abraham

Author, Artist, Poet, Student of Life

 Member of the New Group of World Servers
The Personal Journey of a Modern Day Disciple


Art: NIGHT RIDER, Kurt Abraham

Autobiographical Vignette.

The scene is such: Twenty-four years old, South of France (Arles to be exact), writing a novel.  I managed to survive (just barely) what I call the terrible twenty-twos. Having saved a little money from working a year at a minimum wage job, I had a precious block of time during which I could do something like fulfilling a dream. If one has been immersed in what could be called a study of literature, and if one was not only been helped but has been downright inspired by such immersion in the beautiful writing, is it not logical to want to pursue the art so that one might also someday stand among those who are serving and helping others?  Not exactly.  Arles is something of a small tourist town in the Midi put on the map by the incomparable paintings of Van Gogh.  I was there in the off season—autumn and winter—a time of inwardness, of withdrawal, of reflection. My hours were my own.  I would get up at eleven, have an inexpensive three course French meal at a place where the locals would go at noon, have an espresso at a French café at one, begin writing at two and write till about one or two in the morning. Being in this rhythm for three of four months, something occurred in the dark hours in the middle of one of those nights.  [Art by Kurt Abraham].

poem-Kurt-Abraham-xxCall it an overshadowing. Call it a Presence.
There was a stillness and an elevation.
The overshadowing-elevation brought an attentiveness,
an awareness, an expectancy. 

The word came:WORDS ARE SACRED.

After a pause, these solemn words were followed by one word:


One could call it a mystical experience or a spiritual experience.  These words were and are guiding words—words to live by. As guiding words, they give one direction and alter the course of one’s life.  Since it is never easy to alter the course of one’s life, the words at first appear to be a bit of a puzzle.  The solemnity and elevation in the way that they came, however, helped me to ponder on their significance again and yet again. Thinking back on it, it seems to me that the words were of the utmost politeness.  I mean, if a friend had stopped by and said to me, “Why are you wasting your time writing a stupid novel. Get on with it, mate. Find something worthwhile in life.”  I suppose those words would have come close to meaning the same thing. Close, but not exactly.

It seems to me that everyone has a gift.  Everything comes down to how one uses one’s gift. The first tendency is to use it for selfish purposes. This is far subtler than people realize, for it takes a while and sometimes a very long while for people to recognize the very subtle glamours and illusions involved.  Eventually the realization is that a gift is a sacred responsibility. What is Christ’s statement: “Freely ye have received, freely give.” (Matthew 10:8) 

The greatest joy is to develop and refine the gift and then “freely give.”  

I didn’t take the novel and throw it away right away.  When I left Arles and went to Berlin, the novel was, shall we say, at the bottom of the suitcase. It took me a couple of years to find the thread to Yoga. The spiritual connection was made when I got into the Arcane School and found a rhythm of spiritual study. When I found “Yoga”, or a thread to it, I was able to toss out the manuscript in one of those big German garbage receptacles with a heavy iron lid. I can almost recall the sound of it these many years later. From the bottom of the suitcase to the bottom of the garbage heap.

 I want to say amen to all that, as a kind of conclusion.
But it is really about the ongoing and very tenuous thread.


Kurt’s current activities are presented on his website:

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