Duga2 – The Path to the Rainbow Land – The Way Home

Dear loved ones,

I am currently in the process of writing a book, and only recently I shared the first chapter publicly for the very first time.

I would love to share this beginning with you as well.

May it meet you where you are, and may it speak to whatever is alive in you right now.

Wishing you a gentle and meaningful reading experience.

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On the Shore of the Lake

The lake lies calm and clear before Max. No wind ripples the surface—only the gentle light of the late afternoon makes it shimmer in quiet shades. He sits on a flat rock at the shore, his feet dangling just above the water. From time to time, small waves roll in from the open body of the lake and touch the stone with a soft, rhythmic sound—like the heartbeat of nature.

Max is now in his forties. The years have not hardened him, but deepened him—and his awareness of the Rainbowland has grown like an inner garden.

The breeze carries the scent of pine trees and damp earth toward him. For a moment, he closes his eyes—and listens.

As he gazes into the calm surface of the water, he remembers those moments when he began to decipher his inner, invisible structure and assign names to it.

What Max did not know at the time, but later came to understand, was this: these inner figures are not merely personal constructs of his imagination. They reflect archetypes, as described for example by C. G. Jung—universal, depth-psychological primordial images anchored in both the collective and the individual unconscious of every human being. Especially in dreams, in deep meditations, or moments of inner contemplation, these forces appear in symbolic form—as inner figures, beings, voices, or impulses.

Yet this knowledge is older than any modern psychology. Ancient Chinese mythology also knows this structure. Under the collective term “Yu Di,” five mythological figures were concealed, regarded as “abstract spirits of the five elements”—each with specific helpers, powers, and orientations. The center (the personality) was surrounded by four dynamic elemental forces—another mirror of the inner order of the human being.

Many archaeological artifacts from the ancient world—from Mesopotamian clay tablets to Egyptian papyrus scrolls to stone bowls and steles—indicate that our ancestors possessed this knowledge. They knew the energetic constitution of the human being, did not see the four beings as symbols, but as concrete components of our invisible, subtle structure. They belong to us like arms and legs—invisible to the eye, yet perceptible to the one who begins to feel.

“There are four forces within me, four beings that influence my decisions, actions, and my consciousness. Two of them—the dragon Zmaj and the goblin Gnom, who are positioned at my sides—are constantly trying to keep me in matter. Yet they do so in very different ways.

The dragon Zmaj, who stands to my left, is not only raw aggression and untamed power. He is also a master of seduction, cunning, and manipulation. He does not appear only with open fire, but sneaks through the back door into my consciousness—with words that sound sweet yet lead me astray. His voice is gentle, almost understanding, when he whispers to me that I deserve more than others, that I am special, that I need control in order not to perish. But I am beginning to understand: it is not my true self that speaks there. It is Zmaj, trying to steal my attention, fill me with pride and arrogance, and entangle me in the material world.

His greatest weapon is not anger—it is the logic of animal origin. He presents thoughts to me in an apparently perfect chain of reasoning, portrays himself as an advisor, as a wise friend who protects me from being weak. Yet behind his words lies the same intention: to keep me away from the Rainbowland. When I listen to him, doubt begins to arise about my spiritual path. When I believe him, my heart closes.”

Max smiles pensively as he hears the rustling of the leaves and another thought rises within him.

“Then there is the goblin Gnom at my right side, a dark, heavy presence that wraps itself around my heart like a chain. Gnom is not refined or cunning—he is raw, heavy, and oppressive. He binds me to the material not through seduction, but through a paralyzing feeling of lack, fear, and despair.

Gnom does not speak in flattering words, but in dull, pressing thoughts that gather above me like dark clouds. He whispers to me that I am not enough, that I have failed, that my past is catching up with me. He narrows my consciousness, causes me to circle the same problems again and again without finding a way out. When I listen to him, the world becomes tight and cold—joy gives way to anger, hope turns into melancholy, and the light of the Rainbowland seems unreachable.

He is the master of depression. His element is not the living, inspiring fire—but the oppressive fire that burns without warming. It is the flicker of a dying ember that leaves only ash behind. While Zmaj tries to lure me with pride and power, Gnom pulls me down into aggression, self-torment, into endless brooding that paralyzes me.”

Max sighs deeply and briefly closes his eyes to regain his inner balance.

“And finally, there is the fairy Vila, the quiet and ever-present force behind me. She is not the one who leads me—that is Duh. Vila is rather the guardian of the past, the chronicler of my existence. Like an unceasing river, she carries all my memories, not only from this life, but far beyond it. She is the water of my mind—deep, penetrating, reflective.

Vila shows me how my thoughts, decisions, and actions create waves, how they spread and flow back to me. Sometimes she shows me the beauty of my path, the golden threads that connect me with other Rainbow sparks. But she also knows the shadows—moments of doubt, of regret, old wounds that still rest in the depths of my consciousness.

Vila does not remind me where I am going—but where I come from. And the greatest gift she can give me is the realization that I am not the past. I am the personality that learns from it.”

Max’s thoughts continue to wander, and a feeling of lightness fills him as he thinks of the wondrous unicorn Duh.

“Duh—the radiant unicorn before me—is the force that pulls me forward, the breath of my Rainbow spark. It is the wind that carries me, the gentle yet unstoppable current that draws me closer to the Rainbowland. While Zmaj and Gnom bind me to the earthly and Vila preserves the past, Duh is the vector of my destiny.

Whenever I stand at the edge of doubt, when the voices of matter grow louder and seek to entangle me in their illusions, I feel Duh. It is not loud, it is not a pushing force—it is a remembrance, a quiet call that shows me I can fly higher. Duh is the sky, the element of air, the boundless space above me that reminds me of my true nature.

But Duh is more than inspiration. It is clarity, penetration, the light that dissolves the fog of doubt. When I allow myself to be guided by it, the shadows of Zmaj and Gnom dissolve, and everything begins to reorder itself. Duh is not a companion—it is my guide, my true self in its highest form.

For Duh does not only tell me where to go—it shows me who I truly am.”

Max opens his eyes and looks across the lake. He feels the presence of these four beings deep within himself. They are always there, each in its own way. But he knows: it is his attention that decides which of them rules.

When he turns too much toward matter, when he loses himself in the voices of Zmaj and Gnom, they take the helm. Zmaj whispers to him of arrogance, control, and pride, while Gnom seeks to alter his mood through dull aggression, fear, and melancholy. Their influence is felt as a pressure perceived from the outside inward. They make him believe that life is a competition, that it is all about taking and defending. And when he yields to these voices, Vila turns into a burden—she traps him in the past, lets him sink into remorse and doubt. Duh, on the other hand, fades; its gentle guidance is drowned out by the noise of the material world.

But when he turns toward the Rainbowland, when he opens himself to Duh, everything begins to reorder itself. Duh is the gentle force that spreads from within outward—an unshakable certainty that exists beyond all doubt. It is the faith that lifts him up, the spiritual love that flows through his heart, the hope that directs his gaze forward. When he surrenders to this current, Vila no longer becomes a chain of the past, but a source of wisdom—she shows him the red thread of his life without binding him to it. She reveals to him that his past is not meant to burden him, but to serve him.

Duh protects him, carries him, keeps the darkness at bay. When his intentions on the spiritual path are firm, it becomes a radiant shield against invisible influences, against foreign or aggressive forces that attempt to pull him back into matter. As long as Duh leads, the path to the Rainbowland remains open, and nothing can tear him from his center.

And Zmaj and Gnom? They no longer stand in his way—they become his helpers. Zmaj gives him courage and assertiveness, but without arrogance. Gnom grants him skillfulness and understanding of matter, but without greed.

Everything depends on his attention. Where he directs it determines which forces rule within him. He is not their victim—he is their guide. And when his mind is clear, when his heart is open, he is no longer a prisoner of matter.

Then he is free. Then he is on the path to the Rainbowland.

In that moment, it becomes clear to him that his journey continues and that he can consciously choose the spiritual path again and again. He slowly rises, the gentle murmur of the water in his ears, and he knows that Duh will continue to guide him.

As his thoughts sink into depth, Max returns to an experience that has never let him go—his first encounter with the Rainbowland. It was many years ago, when he was still a young man, yet the memory is as vivid as on the first day. It was not merely a memory, but an echo from another reality.

He sees it before his inner eye as if it were yesterday: he sat on the bank of a stream, yet it was no ordinary water. The surface pulsed with living light, as if it mirrored the breath of eternity. Sunlight refracted in the gentle waves, yet the colors he saw were not of this world. Each wave carried the whisper of an ancient truth, one he could not grasp with the mind, but only with the heart.

A warm wind brushed across his skin, yet it was more than just wind—it was a touch that passed through him, as if awakening him from a deep sleep. A feeling of homecoming flowed through him, a longing so old that he could not remember when it began. And then—an instant of awakening.

Suddenly, the world was no longer the same. It was as if a veil of light lifted, as if the space around him became transparent. The sounds of the earth faded, and instead he heard a tone that needed no words—a melody shaped of silence and eternity. Time held its breath, and Max saw.

He saw a world that had always been there, hidden behind the dense wall of matter. A land not of this earth, yet whose existence was written deep within his Rainbow spark. It was the Rainbowland—radiant, untouched, beyond all limitation. A place not “out there,” but hidden deep within his own being.

And then came the realization.

The world he had known—the solid, tangible world of stone, flesh, and shadow—was nothing more than a reflection, a faint echo of a greater reality. Everything that had shaped him until then—his fears, his worries, his striving for success—lost all meaning in the light of this truth.

It was as if a door had opened, not of wood or stone, but of realization. A gate that invited him to step through—yet only if he was willing to leave the old world behind.

And then… the image faded.

The stream continued to murmur. The breeze became mere wind again. The earth pulled him back into its play of time and space. But Max was no longer the same.

From that day on, he knew that the world was not what it pretended to be. He had pierced the veil once—and knew that he could do so again. This vision was not merely a memory.

It was a call.

And now, all these years later, he feels it again—this whispering, this pull, this inescapable truth resonating deep within him. The Rainbowland had not forgotten him.

As he allows this memory to rise within him, his gaze wanders across the lake and he notices a water lily floating calmly on the surface in its grace. Max recognizes in the water lily, which belongs to the lotus family, a deeper symbolism. He recalls that this plant is often compared to the path into the Rainbowland.

The water lily begins its life deep in the muddy bottom of the lake, which symbolizes the material world—the mire in which most people are trapped. Then it grows upward through the water, representing the process of transformation, the spiritual ascent through the layers of one’s own existence. Finally, it breaks through the surface and takes its place in the light of the sun. It opens its blossom, symbolizing contact with the Rainbowland—the moment when human consciousness connects with a higher, spiritual vision. The blooming of the water lily symbolizes liberation from limitations and the unfolding of potentials hidden deep within every human being. The seed of one’s own development, which has only waited to be activated, germinates and rises upward.

This realization deepens Max’s longing to experience this purity and clarity again. Yet his life has led him along many paths since then. Some of them were rocky and challenging. Now, on the shore of this lake, he wonders whether he will ever reach this place again or whether he has drifted too far from this inner source. In this quiet environment, he becomes aware of how important stillness and retreat are. The silence here allows him to order his thoughts and hear his inner voice—something that is often lost in the noise of everyday life. And just as the water lily rises from the mud into the light, Max hopes that he too can rise again from the depths of the material world and renew contact with the Rainbowland.

Suddenly, Max is torn from his thoughts. A bright, shrill, childlike voice pierces the silence:

“Mooom, help me! I broke my leg!”

Max turns around and sees a little girl limping on one leg, dramatically contorting her face as if in great pain. The concerned mother immediately kneels down to examine the leg. But it quickly becomes clear that nothing is wrong with her daughter. As the mother exhales in relief, the girl laughs carefree. Happily, she hops away, having received the attention she was seeking.

Max watches the scene attentively and feels something stir within him. He remembers a time when he too clung to certain expectations that ultimately only burdened him. Through the behavior of the little girl, he recognizes the importance of letting go. The teachings of his grandmother come to mind, who used to say:

“What you speak becomes true. Be careful with your words. Choose wisely!”

He knows that the girl acted unconsciously. Yet she played with a dangerous force that is still hidden from her—the power of words and thoughts that shape one’s own reality. He recognizes that holding onto certain ideas or expectations, harmless or not, often leads to unwanted consequences.

In this moment, Max grasps the essence of the problem. People, especially children, often learn how they can gain attention and affection from others through certain behaviors. But what appears harmless has deeper consequences. In the moment the girl pretended to be injured, she played with the possibility that this reality could become real. This playful ease with which she twisted the truth leads away from the clarity and purity that the Rainbowland represents.

Max thinks of the many moments in his own life in which he unconsciously manifested negativity because he did not have control over his thoughts and words. He also remembers how often he judged himself for mistakes that should long since have been forgiven. In this moment, he understands that forgiveness—especially toward oneself—is a key to moving forward. He becomes aware that the path back to the Rainbowland—to that inner source of purity and peace—can only lead through consistent control of one’s thoughts and words. He feels a wave of self-acceptance and realizes that he does not have to be perfect, but that accepting oneself and the will to develop are what truly matter.

Slowly, he rises, directing his gaze once more to the lake, which lies before him as calm and clear as his memories of the Rainbowland are present within him. He perceives the beauty of nature, and a deep gratitude fills him, flooding him with a warm sense of well-being for this moment of clarity.

“It begins here,” he thinks to himself, “with every thought, with every word, with every deed.”

Max feels that he has just taken the next step on his journey—a journey back to himself, back to what truly matters, what is valuable and meaningful, for himself and for his being here.

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