Born in 1977 in a small village between the Euphrates and Tigris near the city of Nisibin, at the Syrian border, I grew up as the sixth of seven children — deeply rooted in the spirituality of my Aramaic ancestors. From an early age, the wisdom and traditions of our culture shaped my life, even though political circumstances led my family to Germany in 1980.

Today I am happily married and mother of three wonderful children. Loving life in all its facets is a gift to me — whether high up in the air paragliding or deep underwater diving, exploring the colorful world of the sea and its creatures.

My professional journey began in 2000 in Frankfurt, where I worked in the world of investment banking. But a mystical experience in 2013 led me to find my true calling: In my dreams I heard the singing of my Aramaic ancestors, and I felt that their ancient sounds touched my heart and determined my path.

A special turning point was a mysterious phone call from an Aramaic monk in Jerusalem. This led me on a pilgrimage to the holy city in 2014, where I discovered the healing power of Aramaic singing in the language of Yeshua. This experience fundamentally changed my life and opened the doors to the ancient Aramaic healing art and the wisdom of my ancestors.

Never has she been so close to her childhood as in this moment, as Maria lets her feet dangle from the ruin of her family's past down the steep slope.

Few memories connect her with the place, but countless stories that the oriental evening now paints in color. Sitting on the rubble of the abandoned village, Maria's restless soul flies into the wide distance of the yellow-tinted late summer landscape.

The silhouette of the TurAbdin, the "mountain of the servants of God," directs the gaze back to the small, abandoned Aramaic village of Marbobo in Nisibin.

With a curious lightness Maria enters the world of her ancestors barefoot. The power of her singing spreads an untethered gentleness in the ancient, shaken walls.

This is a wake-up call of love that touches our own inner temple.

On the path of the heart, connected with her intuition and without censorship of the mind, Maria brings the old abandoned walls back to life with her singing. Her prayers open the gates to our holiest and love condenses in us.

Her colors merge with the earthy colors of the landscape. The laughing heart opens doors to people and places.

It is almost as if we are guided on this special journey. Even though we are in a region marked by political and religious conflicts, a feeling of connection and being carried accompanies us. Maria openly encounters people of different cultures, ethnicities and religions.

On Kurdish television she uses the opportunity to speak out for peace between peoples.

On this journey more than a shared album of memories was created. We laughed together, cried, prayed and listened to the silence of the steppe.

On oriental evenings on monastery roofs, cooking, dancing, singing and extended walks through the old town of Midyat, we all rediscovered ourselves and grew together.

A community arose that carries each other and gives impulses. After this intensive and special time it was not easy for me to return to the anonymity of the big city and face my modern loneliness there.