Mark Albin
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After visiting friends and family along the Danube in Southern Germany, I was very happy to return to my home here in the northeast corner of Switzerland. Fog and clouds often dominate the winter landscape along the famous river, and I rarely saw the sun in Ulm, Ingolstadt, and Regensburg.
We have had many days of sunshine and blue skies here in Waldstatt in early 2026, and when we don’t, we can easily walk up into the hills to a spot above the mist and enjoy brilliant views and beautiful fresh air. The winter light on the snow that has remained on the ground since the year started brightens everything!
I also read the news and observe what is happening around the world. For many people I know, these are particularly tense times. Relations between citizens and government in the USA are teeming with conflict. Friends who would never consider themselves activists are attending webinars to learn to be observers of ICE so they can film and document the activities of the government’s border control agency. But will they themselves be filmed if they participate? No American is unaffected by the drastic shifts taking place in the country. No one knows what will happen. The future ahead appears covered in a thick fog.
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Snow covers the streets of Waldstatt. The surrounding hills are a beautiful white, and the sky announces that Winter energy is upon is. My usual walk at dusk through the local hills, which takes about an hour, is surprisingly empty of life: no deer, foxes, birds, or cows to be seen anywhere. The mighty Säntis mountain peaks out wearing a white coat as clouds hover at it’s shoulders. Everything seems to be slowing down.
Such a mood has its quality of acquiesce, of acceptance that long cold months are encroaching on our warm autumn days, nothing to change that, best not to strategize or evade the fact of entering a new winter season.
Other feelings might arise when cold approaches and days become very short. Endurance can seem to wane, motivation flattens out, our bodies don’t feel aligned with our appetites, and we might feel just plain tired all the time. The local Swiss woman who cuts my hair dreads winter. She has to drag her stiff body out the door and walk a few hundred meters to her salon, and her facial expression shows that she has to battle.
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Clouds move swiftly through a sky filled with many shades of gray. The energy of autumn is palpable here in the northeast of Switzerland. Cows are being led back down the mountain after months of grazing at higher altitudes, which they must certainly enjoy more than the life in confined stalls on the small farms where they spend most of the year.
Friends and I continue to walk in the hills and mountains, swim in rivers and streams, and discover new paths through the Alpstein area, which never ceases to offer its intense presence to us. Though human beings have settled in this area for many centuries, Nature is still obviously the master of Appenzell. Weather changes are rapid. We leave the house prepared for rain, sun, cold, heat, and a swim. We are blessed so far to gradually gain strength and endurance which allows us to go higher and further. Neither my wife nor myself measure our steps or our time. We are sensing deeper pleasure in our inner life, a deeper relationship to our area, and perhaps some of its mysteries are revealing themselves as we spend more time here.
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I was again able to trek through glorious Swiss mountains near our home yesterday. Vivid colors dotted the landscape, wildflowers! And since I had to walk very carefully amongst the steep rocks, I was continually enchanted by the bright patches below my feet. Dotted landscapes of exquisite design, both the gentle and the strong in all their splendor, true glory!
Such moments are good for my soul, good for my health, good for my mind. I then observe through newsreels a world of nations reeling in escalating violence. Fear, anger, and distress cover the people’s faces. It certainly causes me to reflect on war and peace.
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The emergence of Spring seems to have halted for a few days here in the northeast of Switzerland. Fog and low temperatures create the chilly atmosphere of being in a massive refrigerator. People here in Waldstatt chat about the weather like everywhere else, and locals reassure me that wonderful weather is coming next week. I am fine with the cool, damp days, though. The energy is very good for meditation and contemplation.
Many people who know me are aware that I spent quite a few years as a monk in Zen Buddhist temples. One question that people quickly ask me is, “Why did you leave?” Honestly, I used to be offended by this question, since I doubted that the people asking me about a very difficult transition in my life had grasped why I had come to live as a monk and why I stayed so long in the monastery. We were discussing my very personal relationship to Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, and not the weather. Perhaps it felt like a stranger asking me about a former marriage and wanting to know why I divorced a wife I had loved very deeply.
I have come to understand better why people spring towards the end of my monastic story. It is not easy to be patient in understanding our challenging lives, or anyone else’s. Many of us have a monk or nun in us that would like to take a good chunk of life in a remote place to go within, supported by like-minded people. It also suits most people better to let go of this idea and commit fully to our lives right where we are in the world.