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Here is my personal writing for my two days in the Czech Republic:

I stood in front of Babicka's door, peering up at the expanse of the countryside's special, customized view of the wondrous expanse of space, stars blooming from the sky freed from urbanized constraint. Within moments, Delphinius was flying high above me, my eyes locked on its distant beacons, connecting me with that which I want.

Filled, yet certainly not satisfied, I pressed the doorbell firmly, and was granted with Babicka above me, on a Shakespearian balcony. Jsem tady, na Rejstejn.

As I waited for Babicka to come down, I stood back and looked skyward again, filled with anticipation.


Mountains of Sumava
Another Sumava View

. . . and there! again! like several momentous occasions of the past year, I was given/granted the sight in the heavens that seemingly confirmed the importance of the moment.

There, right down the spine of the Northern Cross, just beside Delphinious' kite lofting, ran a bright atmospheric star streaking down from the sky. Miraculous! I thought to myself, as the awe began to subside, that this is almost too much. This goes beyond coincidence, goes beyond happenstance. 

It was strong and firm, yes, but not quite the fireball of the Meadow. Rather, its brightness was, as it should be given the moment, traded in for a wondrous breaking apart towards the end of its flare. 5-6 distinct components were visible breaking away, but still continuing on for their own few seconds of separate existence. The silence of the event always catches me by surprise, and it takes away my breath, and seemingly all the sound around in deference to the visual. When you see a solitary exploding star, time seems to freeze for its brilliance. We stand still, a'mazed and a'gazed, the Now bleeding into Eternity for just a few moments. 

River Otava
Some flowers silhouetted

Reeling from the electricity flowing through me as if I had grounded the energy of the star's explosion, I turned to greet Babicka opening the door. 

Tig and Otava

A few other memories:

  • The wondrous sound of Otava simultaneously tumbling, gliding, falling and dancing over the multitude of rocks, pebbles, and huge boulders. It was what Lenka never mentioned about the river. To me, it defined the place.
  • Having a long conversation with Babicka the first night there. All of the emphasis on family.
  • Feeling the emotion when I saw Lenka's aunt and grandfather's graves. There was something about seeing the name Jelinek on a gravestone that made it clear where I was.
  • Giving two kids (20 year olds) a hitchhike to Kemperk.

Castle near Kasperke Hory

(c) Geoffrey Peters,, 2002. For more information regarding this web page, please contact
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