Vor diesem Song hab ich ein wenig Bammel. Es gibt zwar schon zu viele dieser Scheißmomente - und fast alle lassen sich auf "nichts dahinter" oder "na ja, is halt so, kannste nix machen" einkochen -, aber der "Mit besten Grüßen"-Moment ist halt doch noch immer was Besonderes. Wenngleich auch was besonders Schlechtes. Ja, gut, rational ist er komplett, völlig, total egal sozusagen, vor allem im Licht dessen, was seither passiert ist. Aber "rational" hat nicht immer den Ball in der Hand. Vielleicht hab ich ihn falsch interpretiert, aber wahrgenommen hab ich ihn definitiv. Als etwas Außergewöhnliches. Und meine Interpretation ist schon die Naheliegendste. (Sagt man andererseits immer.) Vor allem hat sich das Messer in meine Erinnerung eingebrannt, das sich in mein Herz stach, welches kurz davor noch euphorisiert "Wo der Pfeffer wächst" mitgesungen und -gehüpft hatte.

Sobald Klassenfahrt heraußen ist, werde ich mich natürlich an den Song wagen und irgendwann den tiefen Fall ins Messer auch begraben. Denn fairerweise hat das alles nichts mit dem Lied zu tun, sondern mit ein paar Worten und Gesten davor. Ach, "das Leben ist zu kurz für dumme Laberei"! I'm audi!

So much can happen with a single "ping!". Or, in my case, something happens that is accompanied by a "ping!" in my heart that races my mood from top down to bottom at the speed of light.

This morning was the first morning I can recall in a million years that I felt everything at once: well, energized, in a good mood from good sleep in a good bed, happy that I instantly traced my spirits to last night's "self-talk", eager to go on with my projects, glad to have left yesterday's agonizing pains behind me, calm, looking forward to breakfast with company.

As the hours went by, what I had realized the night before became more and more of a truth: I am in motion. I used to be either totally consumed by their conversation, by understanding, by taking in, by grasping every little ounce of a thought or a feeling in the room - or drawn back in my shell because I had to recover. The travelling between the two proved exhausting to the point of impossible. Why? I'm not sure yet; maybe because I was too weak and needed too much power to reassure myself and be stable. Check people's faces for their reaction towards me and then update my view of myself. Utterly, utterly, utterly exhausting. It didn't always happen obviously, and boy did I not notice the process underneath!

Now I feel in motion, moving on, resting, going and --- comfortable. Maybe I have gotten the hang of my sensitivity. It's not dragging me down with the weight of everything I perceive anymore; it's my power now. (And it has only taken a little over five years since the naming of that quality that I have managed. Wow.)

I looked at one person that I used to be jealous of - subconsciously. Our relationship has been close, but there have always been a few unresolved things in my stomach. Now that I've figured out, all I see and all I feel when I look at her is love.

I looked at another person that I used to look at very carefully. Our relationship was one of love assumed and proven in deeds rather than words. Never questioned, yet never confirmed. I looked for feedback to fill the missing parts of the puzzle. I was hardly ever intuitive. Our relationship has changed, too. My view has changed. I see so much more of that person now. And when I look at him, it isn't hopefully, anticipatingly, scanning for confirmation, it's only with love.

And suddenly I am reminded of that wonderful, yet overused poem: "Es ist, was es ist, sagt die Liebe." There are some things that one can only understand later. In life. In love. I knew, understood, grasped many things when I was still very young. (My English teacher - even if she had never taught me anything else, I'd still have a very big place in my heart for her just for that - once addressed a problem she read from my face. I only told her half of it because, as almost always, I was afraid that if I said everything, I'd be cast off for the abysses in my soul. What she instantly understood, though, was the fact that I felt like a fish out of water in my environment because no one else had that sensitivity or saw what I saw.) But there are some things one cannot understand unless one has lived through certain experiences. And, no, I did not ask for the living hell of more or less two years and the nightmare of four years. Neither did I ask for the emotional baggage that has so often gotten in the way of men - the ones who were there but decided to leave, the ones who passed in the distance, the ones who stopped by for a visit but then took a run. And the ones I may have missed. But all of that has taught me something, has molded me into the woman I am, has added to the life within me, has given me the chance to change something, to grow, to do.

Opening one suitcase after the other, putting a label on each, is more challenging - "I don't have a suitcase!" - and more fun - that tingling in my stomach when I know that I know!! - than I had imagined. It is also surprising because a thought might strike me out of the blue when, for example, all I wanted to do was look at postcards.

One of the best things is that I'm not sitting down, resting on my insights. Life is best when it's lived.

Today pretty much kept the morning's character. Some "lone" time at the back of the car, exercising my mind while scanning licence plates of cars overtaking. Following the situation playing out in my head, I experienced again the relaxing power of thinking. Lone time on the train with music taking me to one of my favorite situations and evoking again the exhilarating atmosphere of up there.

Excitement at going on with my projects. Then something happened that snapped me back into a mode of feeling I thought long gone. It appears I had considered myself too superhuman. Worry, worry, worry. There are about 21,813 reasons to worry. Or are there 265,892? Then there's one thought (but a thought may take long to digest and arrive at the place that houses the worries): What will worrying ever give me? (Afterthought: What has happened to my belief that something good will happen? And to my trust in life?) Answer: Nothing. Well, except some time spent in agony. Mission therefore: Stop worrying! Get back to doing my thing, working on my projects, living my life - being in motion!

I guess I'm still digesting, but I'm not at rock bottom anymore. More help is coming from the back of my mind. Images. Of a child completely in rapture at learning about the world. Of someone lovingly stroking the child inside her belly. Of someone laughing her head off. Of seeing someone differently after adding the adult's knowledge to childhood memories.

And there are the things I've understood more than once. People sing about them in songs, and it seems so simple. Seems easy for every teenager to understand. Then you grow to be twenty, and you suddenly see there's more to it. Then you grow to be thirty, and you see there's even more. (And it doesn't only happen on birthdays once a decade.)

Fading in...
...honesty is such a lonely word, everyone is so untrue...
...you can't hurry love, no, you just have to wait...
...I wanna know, can you show me, I wanna know about the strangers like me...
...when you love someone but it goes to waste...
...you can change your life more than any man can do...
...there's a secret garden she hides...
...princess, you might like it, if you lower your defense...
Fading out...

One of the best songs ever, music AND lyrics, and one that hit me instantly. Maybe I'll understand it again and again and again:
Some walls are made of stone
Sometimes we build our own
Some walls stand for years
And some wash away with tears
(Peter, Paul & Mary)