2025 - a new year.

Dear friends and followers,
I’ve been rather quiet here lately, and that has to do with a variety of things. Because I’ve been busy writing, because sometimes I just enjoy disappearing from social media for a while, and probably for a few other reasons too—too many for my own limited mind to comprehend. A human being is a mystery to itself. That’s what makes us human.

That being said, I want to wish everyone here a happy new year—a year in which we might come a bit closer to the mystery of our existence. It immediately brings me to the Act of Speaking. The more courage we can muster to speak from that which we usually hide behind outward appearances, the more we exist, the closer we come to ourselves. I wish you that courage this year.

If there’s one thing I’m grateful for this past year, it’s that I’ve been able—especially during workshops—to practice the art of courageous speaking with so many people. It’s an art that is a mystery also to me, and one I try to rediscover each time. Thank you to everyone who took the time to listen to me this year, and to everyone who gave me some real words. Thank you also for all the comments posted here on this page - I read them and learn from them. Some of them are gems - I am truly grateful for this wonderful group of readers here.

That being said, I returned from Israel a few days ago. On my first night there, I was welcomed by a supersonic rocket that landed about a kilometer from my hotel. Strangely enough, I didn’t wake up from the blast itself but rather from the noise in the hotel hallway afterward.

In total, I had to head to the shelter about four times, but it didn’t ruin my stay at all. I gave a few lectures in Israel to audiences ranging across the political spectrum—from Israelis who support their government to those who oppose it. I spoke a lot and, more importantly, listened a lot.

I brought a few things home with me. Here’s one of them—a small gift for the new year: an Arabic coffee recipe. Buy artisanal (slow-roasted at low temperatures) coffee beans. Grind them. Add a teaspoon of the coffee powder to a cup and pour hot water over it (about 95°C or so). Wait a few minutes, and the coffee is ready. It couldn’t be simpler—no equipment needed.

Locally, they call it “mud coffee” because of the layer of coffee grounds at the bottom of the cup. Give it a try. You’ll notice that this coffee doesn’t weigh on your body. I had read about it before, and the owner of an Arabic coffee shop confirmed it: the coffee grounds reabsorb the caffeine.

If there’s something remarkable about humanity, it’s how often we make life unnecessarily complicated. I once tried making cider and traveled the entire country to learn from cider makers. Without exception, they recommended a thousand and one chemical additives and industrial yeasts. Finally, I took a leap of faith and let the apple juice ferment using the natural yeasts on the apple skins. It worked perfectly, just as it had for thousands of years before us, without adding a single gram of chemicals.

What stops us from recognizing simplicity as the solution? Why do we go to so much trouble and spend so much money to diminish what is already perfect? It’s no different with ourselves: the greatest challenge in life is simply to become who we Are.

Dear friends, the year to come might be the year of Team Trump. That’s the most profound political event since World War II, an event of which we don’t know exactly yet what meaning history will give to it. I will publish a longer article about that soon. Meanwhile, I wish you Arabic coffee and much sincere and true togetherness in the coming year!
Mattias