Most people agree that there is something that remains. It is intangible and can be detached from our body. It seems to be the core of the thing. Something that gives life to a thing. It forms the self-consciousness or the I-concept. It is called differently, but it always helps a living being to become aware of itself.  We assume that music can also create something like this and would like to call it Wathan. The Wathan gives certain sounds the special lightness and spirit. However, it is not always there. It moves aimlessly through time and space. To become aware of its existence it needs the love of music. It settles down where an individual or a collective loses itself in music. This atmosphere magically attracts the Wathan. It enters into a symbiosis with the scenery and stores the positive energy. When the last melodies have faded away, it moves on, taking with it the splendor of the moment, deposited in very specific sequences of notes. The energy of the moment is stored forever and will always be there. If this music should sound again somewhere else, the Wathan feels a connection and moves to this place to release the energy again and let it potentiate itself. Let's create a new Wathan together with the music of Slow Nomads, which will travel the world with our positive vibes and enrich many other places where music is lived.

The longing draws our protagonist back to the place that changed his life. But they longing for what? Does he really miss the island or the fragile beings that have approached him only veiled. What awaits the lost souls in this seemingly enchanted place? Mysterious and promising, like the strange guests of the island, the music of Foreign Guest, created for the story, also makes its way into your world of thoughts. It captivates, fascinates, drives forward and develops undreamt-of energy! Have fun with the next part of "the warning" by Simon Rucker with musical background by Foreign Guest! Up there it says. My memorial stares at me in silent greeting. Pale it stands out against the jungle. Pale and cold. While I keep my pistol pointed at my two prisoners, I wave my other hand in their direction. I feel a little silly, but so be it. At a distance befitting my safety, I follow the two wretches. I feel splendid, I know what to do. We'll set up camp up in the clearing by the graves. That seems like a sensible place to me. I don't want to go back into the cave, it's too risky with those two. It won't work, don't think how they might take me by surprise if I shimmy up the rocks. Besides, I have an audacious suspicion at which point the little bodies enter our world. I didn't even notice the narrow gap in the rock much at first. I had passed it between the mountains just before I found the place with the graves. A peculiar feeling had set in while looking at the dark hole between my temples. Soon I will know more. But for now it's up through the jungle.  The two stumble in front of me. There I hear the singing all at once again, shouting, I'm ready. Linea and Anthony look around frantically in all directions, huddle together. I am calm, no longer have to follow the sounds. Soon I will meet them. We have only the bare necessities with us. It shouldn't take long. And once I have met them, it will become clear what to do.  While the tropical sun disappears behind the horizon in its usual glorious play of colors, I throw dry palm fronds into the rapidly growing fire. It feels as if I have arrived home. The return journey appears veiled in my thoughts, it is difficult for me to get a feeling for the time that has passed.

For the 100th episode of our Deep Stories series just few words needed. It’s a milestone, something which was still faraway but almost close. We look back to many lovely moments, ups and downs, new friendships and the music which connected us at all times. So today our man Kork gives itself the honour and is throwing confetti in a musical sense.

It disappears every second and you never have enough, yet at the same time it is infinite … the time. It is given to you and taken back, turns in a circle and yet always runs forward, can be unbearably long at one moment while fading away too fast. It determines our life and is still a mysterious thing. Or would you have thought that the life of Cleopatra was closer in time to the moon landing than to the construction of the Great Pyramids of Giza? Time plays with our mind, although it has actually an objective size. Famous physicists have tried to unravel the mystery and have managed to reduce the complexity into something which appears so deceptively simple. You know, I count to 60 and know that a minute has passed everywhere. But alas, this is not only subjective – but also scientifically objectively – not the truth. Time is hard to grasp, though it is actually measurable. But just this fact makes it so incredibly precious to each one of us. So moments can seem endless and a one-hour DJ set can become an immeasurably long and epic journey for the mind.

A few days ago I rode with my bicycle through the green countryside of Flanders when at one moment I witnessed a spectacle which was so beautiful that I stopped to have a closer look. In the meadow next to me I saw a beautiful horse and her foal, who appeared to be only a few days old, yet already moving around with an amazing natural elegance. Actually, I really love horses as they are approachable, while at the same time they remain pretty wild animals. When I stopped my bike, the horses noticed me and came closer. Not close enough to touch them but close enough to look into the eyes of the mare. They made me think of little crystal balls… a fascinating peek into the peerless depths of a parallel universe which cannot be reached by humans. When I was standing there, my thoughts drifted away to a behavioral study about horses by the university of Leuven, which I had read a few weeks earlier. It was a study about horse shelters. Self-proclaimed animal lovers always seem to think that horses should not stay outside all the time but need a shelter. But so far nobody has asked the opinion of the horses themselves and not much research had been done about this subject. So the scientists decided to observe a great number of horses for several years at different locations. And the conclusion? It appears horses don’t mind a bit of rain and often prefer to stay outside when it rains. Same for windy days. Same for cold days. And quite a few horses prefer to sleep under the stars, like real wild animals. On sunny days they have a slight preference to stay in the shadow, but they clearly prefer to stay in the place with the least insects, which very often turns out to be the shelter… So it’s useful after all. This deep story from …… captures this equine energy very well… connecting with mother earth and the four winds. Running freely and elegantly across the rolling hills, through the rain, mist and sun like a wild creature. And resting at night under the stars, connecting with the universe. Enjoy!!

The island just wouldn’t let go our stranded hero, who was too much intrigued by all the mysterious events that were happening there. Driven by the entries in the diary he found there, he developed a sense of belonging to the place that has held him captive for so long. He literally devoured the last lines of his predecessor, who had surrendered completely to all the joys and temptations. Enjoy the final words of Q., which our current guest Juliet Sikora masterfully underlines musically. The joyous ecstasy captures the "Grande Dame" of Kittbal Records with her unmistakably first class blend. Let her take you to his world of mesmerizing sounds. ‘Herewith and on this day I finish my now long and unsettling records. May the right one find them, may the right one know what is the right thing to do. I cannot be an ambassador. I do not know whether I'll ever come back. I only know one thing, after tonight everything will be different. Yesterday they let me participate in their ceremony. They are the one and only thing in the world. Words fall short to describe the things which happened on the cold stone. With their long limbs they carried me, with velvety skin they spoiled me. Sang to me their beguiling songs. What was, what is, that is no longer important, but there seems to be something devilish in their actions. The world should be scared of them, like i am now. While experiencing the greatest well-being I am capable of, with their fine little fingers moving across my body, they flashed with their equipment, seemed to be discussing, advising, documenting. Afterwards I go back to them. I know where they are now. I know the way that leads me to them. I also know how they found their way through the mountains into our world. They are waiting for me. I can barely restrain my impatience. Only a few hours left.’

Dario, der sympathische Grinsekater der berliner sheepless Crew, liefert uns heute sonnige Klänge, um das wunderbare Pfingstwochenende richtig ausklingen zu lassen. Vielleicht habt ihr auch viele tolle Stunden an einem besonderem Ort verbracht und denkt mit Wehmut zurück an die vergangenen Stunden auf dem Weg zurück in die Heimat. Ähnlich dürfte wohl auch das Gefühlsleben des erretteten Protagonisten aus der Erzählung von unserem Gastautor Simon Rucker aussehen. Irgendwo auf einer Yacht im Ozean denkt er zurück an seine liebgewonnene Insel. Die Insel verschwindet im schimmernden Dunst am Horizont über meinem Ozean. Ich stehe am Heck der Recurrente und starre in die Ferne, bis die feinen Umrisse auch dem wissenden Auge verborgen bleiben. Die tropische Sonne scheint fröhlich auf das Deck. Ich ziehe an meiner Zigarette, werfe sie über Bord. Linea steht unterm Dach am Steuerrad, Anthony verrichtet irgendeine Arbeit weiter vorne. Ich halte mein Glas schräg, die braune Flüssigkeit aus dem schottischen Hochland bildet ein Dreieck mit dem oberen Rand. Neben einem Liegestuhl liegt Quintus‘ Büchlein schon bereit. Ich betrachte es. Denke an die Zeit auf der Insel, sie kommt mir jetzt vor wie ein paar Tage, nicht wie die vielen Monate. Mein Haar ist lang, meine Haut dunkel. Im Spiegel im Inneren der Yacht, der fast die gesamte Breite eines Flurs bedeckt, kann ich sehen, dass ich mich nicht mehr erkenne. Die vom kristallenen Glas zurückgeworfene elektromagnetische Strahlung zeigt mir einen Anderen. Einen wilden Mann mit stechendem Blick. Einen verwegenen Piraten. Mein Herz begann beim ersten Blick in den Spiegel zu rasen. Jetzt, hier oben in der Sonne, fühle ich nichts mehr davon. Ich mache einen Umweg über die Bar. Trage die Flasche mit mir zum Liegestuhl.

In einem interessanten Buch las ich letztens von der Sprache Esperanto, mit deren Hilfe sich nach wenigen Jahren alle Menschen, egal welcher Herkunft und welches Geburtsjahr, auf einen fremden Planeten untereinander verständigen konnten. Esperanto ist eine Plansprache, d.h. sie ist nicht kulturell-historisch gewachsen, sondern wurde von wenigen Leuten komplett erdacht. Die Vision, dass alle Menschen miteinander kommunizieren können, klingt verlockend, fast paradiesisch. Jedoch konnte sie sich nicht durchsetzen, zumindest nicht in Form einer gesprochenen Sprache. Pauke Schaumburg zeigen uns mit der heutigen deep story aber, dass auch nach dem Turmbau zu Babel noch eine universelle Sprache existiert. Eine Sprache die auf spiritueller und metaphysischer Ebene die Menschen miteinander verbindet und ihren Geist befreit. Sie bahnt sich langsam ihren Weg über die Ohren in die Köpfe der Lebewesen und bringt die Körper in Bewegung. Könnt ihr sie hören...?

The rhythms of hundreds of drums enchant the senses, which do not seem prepared for this enormous flood of impressions. Different scents put the olfactory receptors on alert. They can no longer distinguish between known and unknown and surrender themselves completely to this state of unpredictability. There is so much to discover and learn here. The algorithm behind the hustle and bustle remains an enigma. Everything seems to be subject to its own laws. It cannot be grasped and arranged, it flows into each other and is disturbing, it drives one forward. Overwhelmed by all these impressions, you let your mind loose on an exciting journey. Ro.Me will accompany you and wants to bring this world closer to you. He conducts in the background and is always present. The selected pieces of music are masterfully coordinated and carve out a path through the supposed confusion. The rhythms and melodies lead you like an invisible thread, leaving room for your own explorations in this soundscape.

A flash of thought gave him a rude awakening. He was still disoriented. He saw lips making movements, yet his ears couldn’t register any sounds. While the beer in his hand felt already warm. Then gradually the confusing puzzle pieces of his surroundings slowly came together. He realized that the sun was shining while loud music prevented the penetration of words into his mind. He looked around and saw many happy faces moving rhythmically. A hustle and bustle of magnificently decorated individuals, magically connected by an invisible bond, forming a playful collective. Suddenly something seemed to be missing. The music was still there, but it had mysteriously lost its energy. There was no obvious reason for this and people did not appear to be worried, rather curious for what would be coming next. Just as sudden as the energy had gone, it reappeared and once again ecstasy dominated the emotional world. It looked like a strange ritual, but he felt the irresistible urge to be a part of it. Slowly but steadily his limbs started to move. He felt his facial expression change and he dived into this universe where time and space did not seem to exist. He drifted and floated through the masses. After only a few moments he felt how he became part of the whole. He was completely absorbed into the collective. His mind seemed to connect with the others on a metaphysical level. Then his eye fell on the mastermind of this unreal spectacle, the person who took away this connecting force and the depth. But only to bring these back a little later with even more power. The man at the instruments seemed to be the custodian of this mysterious kind of fuel. Then the spectator felt how he once again sank away into a subconscious state. Only much later does he learned that a guy named Samer Soltan had given him this mindblowing experience and had watched over the dancers and their dynamics. A master of music and stories. Be enchanted by Samers deep story and experience the magic of music.