An Urban Mystic Among the Benedictines

Our journey to the Abbey Library of St. Gallen began on the train from Zurich. A chai latte in hand, snippets of conversation about myths, old systems, and modern spirituality in our ears. Classic Urban Mystic everyday life—just this time framed by baroque grandeur. St. Gallen greets you with a mix of history and small-town charm. From the very first step into the monastery grounds, you can feel it: here once stood power. Knowledge. Control—and alongside it, a deep longing for something greater. The famous Abbey Library isn’t a place of quiet humility but one of subtle authority. Baroque, heavy, imposing. The scent of wood and centuries lingers in the air. 170,000 books—many older than the very idea that knowledge could belong to everyone.

I am no pilgrim. I am an urban mystic.I didn’t come to pray—I came to understand. So there I stood, eyes wide open, asking myself:What can we still draw from ancient knowledge when we no longer revere it uncritically?

The library is part of the former Benedictine monastery. Back then, writing was an act of spirituality – but also an act of control. What was written down endured. What didn’t fit the worldview was erased, forgotten, or even burned. I’m grateful that so much has been preserved. And I’m well aware that what’s missing often speaks just as loudly.

The Library: A Sanctuary of the Mind

The Abbey Library of St. Gallen was founded in the 8th century and is one of the oldest libraries in Europe. It is the heart of the former Benedictine monastery and has been a UNESCO World Heritage site since 1983. Today, the library holds over 170,000 volumes, including around 2,100 medieval manuscripts—many unique. The most famous treasures include:

• The St. Gallen Monastery Plan—the only surviving architectural plan of an early medieval monastery, a spiritual vision cast in stone and parchment;

• The Abrogans, the oldest known dictionary of the German language;

• Medical, astrological, liturgical, and theological texts that reveal a spiritual worldview far beyond simple black-and-white thinking.

The renowned Baroque Hall, built in the 18th century, is not just a place to marvel but a monument to the idea that knowledge can heal. Above the entrance, in Greek, it reads:Psychés iatreion—“Healing Pharmacy of the Soul.”And yes—this library can truly be understood as such.

The Google of Its Time

Since childhood, I have been fascinated by books—by stories, myths, and that secret crackle between the pages.And yes—the Bible was once part of that fascination. Not as carved-in-stone truth, but as one among many ancient textual tapestries woven with symbolism, archetypes, and, frankly, a lot of drama.

For me as an Urban Mystic, the Bible is no untouchable monolith but a fascinating mythic text among many—alongside Gilgamesh, Isis, oracle texts, and feminist witchcraft manuals on my nightstand.

And yet: I was deeply impressed by the sheer beauty and weight of this place. By the monks who, centuries ago, wrote by candlelight, catalogued, and preserved what we now call knowledge. Knowledge that survived because someone deemed it important.

Christian Mysticism—A View from Outside and Within

Mysticism fascinates me—whether it shines in Buddhist koans, Celtic rituals, or Sufi verses. Christian mysticism has its place in that tapestry too: Meister Eckhart, Teresa of Ávila, Hildegard von Bingen—voices that touch a spiritual depth I recognize. Walking through the exhibition, I felt curiosity. Respect. And that quiet awe that comes when words from a long-gone time suddenly sound familiar.Despite centuries, despite different contexts, despite monastic discipline—some things touch the same inner spaces that my own spiritual path as an Urban Mystic has touched. Not because I see myself in them, but because I realize: the search was always there. Only the language was different. Christian mysticism speaks of the darkness of the soul, letting go, becoming one with the divine. It holds a quiet power—if you don’t get blinded by dogma and patriarchal packaging. Not all of it resonates with me—but some parts do. Put simply: I don’t have to walk this path to understand that it was profound for others. And I may observe it—with a clear-eyed, open, yet firmly grounded heart.

A Mystical Inventory

I wander through the vaulted cellar, past models of the monastery plan, interactive stations, and a replica of the Abrogans. I see the striving for order. For healing. For meaning. And I think: maybe I was never as far from those ancient souls as I thought. I don’t believe in hierarchies in heaven.But I believe in depth. In rituals. In silence. In books that whisper. And in spaces that teach us knowledge doesn’t have to shout to be powerful.

For You, Dear Reader

You don’t have to be Christian to be touched by Christian mysticism. No—in fact, sometimes it resonates most when you approach it with distance and an open heart. You can also be a badass urban mystic who keeps incense next to matcha powder and tarot cards alongside psychology books. You’re allowed to doubt, question, reinterpret. You may be inspired—without submitting. You can marvel—without following. Love rituals—without believing in dogma. Touch an ancient manuscript with one hand—and write your own spiritual path with the other.

Because true mysticism doesn’t fit in a box. It doesn’t ask for membership cards. It lights an inner fire—no matter where you come from. And honestly? If you feel something bigger than yourself—it doesn’t matter whether you stand in a church, sit in a forest, or stroll through a baroque library. Personally, the Abbey Library didn’t just give me answers. It also left me with a question:

What do you preserve—and what do you transform? And I believe that is the true magic.