Testimony of Friendship

​It’s a common notion: 
We are all shaped by the people we have gotten to know. Each person you have let into your life ultimately shapes you. Like soft clay you are formed by the hands of a stranger, a friend to be, and maybe a stranger to be once more. Be it gentle strokes, slowly, over time, or the rapid jolt of an impatient hand, everyone leaves their mark. And so do you.

You might nod, shrug your shoulders, ‘so what does that mean?’

Recently I realised how many of the people I care about feel cut off from their friends, their family. It might be due to actual distance, and the fact that you cannot be close to your loved ones infuriates you, it drains you and strains your happiness. It might be figurative distance, a point in your life where others become estranged and are not as present as they used to be.

I just want you to remember, my dear friend, that you carry a piece of these people with you, by being who you are. The way you grimace when you are not sure about something, the way you laugh about the strangest jokes, your favourite comfort food which you would have never found were it not for those wonderful nights in your friends’ kitchen… There are so many ways they are with you, we are with you, that neither time nor place can take away from you. 

Wordy Universe

clacking of keys
fingers’ movements swiftly across letters

forming letters’ forms to be read – if ever

gushing of thoughts

from open wounds to be tended by words

typist’s trance of a wordy universe

into silent depths.

How Lonely Is Lonely?

As I am typing these words I am surrounded by silence, only interrupted by the piercing sound of my fingers hammering down on my typewriter. In between the sentences I pause, I inhale the stillness. I can feel my body relaxing as I concentrate on the lack of words, the lack of sounds, the lack of company.

The only words I perceive are the ones pouring out from my fingertips, staining the imperfect paper with beautifully colourful black ink, inked thoughts, thoughts that turn into typewriter noise, music.

As I materialise on the paper I picture myself. I see myself sitting at the long dining table, lit by a single lamp above my head. I see myself and think “Am I lonely?” The last few days I have spent in my own company. Not exclusively, not all of the time, yet come evening I am engulfed by the single silence of my loud mind. More than once have I thought about boredom, about stillness and yes, loneliness.

Yet I am lacking the symptoms. Come to think of it, I have felt lonely before, I can recall the feeling vividly. Loneliness is less of a state of mind than a physical pain. When you are alone, even when you would prefer to have other people around, you are not automatically lonely. Loneliness is a craving, it can be stronger than hunger, than thirst. Loneliness is feeling like you might dissolve right there on the spot, if not noticed by someone. Loneliness is thinking of yourself as unworthy company and punishing yourself with hopelessness.

I am alone. But I am enough. However much I indulge in time spent with my friends and family, I am just as much fascinated as I let the fine thread of thoughts run through my fingers, amazed at what my mind made out of silence.

The Origin of Dreams

My heart aches. It aches, beats, gives my ribs a nudge with every breath as if to say “Look, see, feel, take it all in!“ It aches because it’s still growing. With every lesson I learn, with every struggle, with every kind gesture, with every harsh word. With every fascinated gaze of my eyes, with every moment of stillness and every time I run in restlessness, my heart takes it all in and pumps joy, sadness, anxiety and hope through my throbbing veins. It seems to shout “Imagine“ and my head follows suit, dreaming up new ways and thus creating a path that has never been before, one I ache to follow. I never know where it leads me, whether my heart changes the tone around the next corner and stirs me in the opposite direction.
I am a human being. I am just a bundle of emotion, I am easily impressed, easily wounded, I am never sure what comes next and I am in love with this feeling. People tell me I go to extremes with my emotions, yet I only react to my beating heart, that hungry little organ of mine that can’t help but grow.

On the Trails of Friends

Last week I set out to visit this beautiful Irish city by the sea which my friend Glee had lived in five months last year. You might have followed her adventures in Ireland here on our blog. Being in Dublin so soon after her return felt on the one hand like invading her privacy, yet it was nice to know that your friend has also visited this and that museum, or has eaten in a particular restaurant. In fact, I found out that by chance I had chosen to eat in a restaurant which Glee had also enjoyed very much without even knowing about it!

It was not my first time in Dublin, and while I did many things I had already done 4 years ago, it felt different this time. I had a somewhat different perspective. Firstly, I found that my university course has influenced me immensely, as this time I enjoyed the exhibition in Trinity College a lot more than I did the first time. Moreover, being 4 years older, I felt more independent and somewhat smarter. Dublin at 17 is surely different than Dublin at 21! Last but not least, having heard of Glee’s time in Dublin let me catch a glimpse from under the touristic veil that most of us have to travel with.

There is no better way to show you my view of Dublin than by showing you the pictures I took.

Trinity College

Trinity College

Spiral staircase in the Long Room, Trinity College

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Stephen’s Green Shopping Centre

Bridge over the Liffey in the colours of the Irish flag

Ha’penny Bridge

Sweet shop

Walking around Howth

Howth

Howth

(For a more detailed account of Howth, click here.)

So at 21… [Rootless]

To whoever decided that at 21 you are not entitled to have roots.

What started off as feeling like an old strong tree with profound roots now feels like a vast wound in the flesh of the earth. Where once was security is now uncertainty, lurking in the back of my mind with a tight grip on my fluttering heart. The young must leave the nest. This is a rule we are taught by nature. However, what happens with the nest? What to others might seem like a mere chaos of loose branches might mean HOME to someone. And when we leave it might just take a sudden storm to rock the branch, to swirl up soil, to unroot a tree.
Growing up means either extending those roots – or cutting them. Some call it liberation, yet others just feel like floating in thin air. If the cut is unexpected or unwilling you are left with no choice. An unrooted tree cannot be planted elsewhere without causing damage. In that case you might stand gazing at a hole in the ground, then gather up a fresh seed and find a new place to grow a home.

When you are 21, nobody tells you where to go looking for such a suitable piece of land. Chances are you are strolling around for a long time without roots. Without roots, how can you ground? How can you grow? When, in fact, everyone expects you to thrive at that age.

But at 21, you are not entitled to have roots. At 21 you
are lost, and finding something else. At 21 you go out finding what helps you grow, eliminating what harms you and you thrive on the smallest ray of hope that crosses your path. You might feel lost, but what other way could you be found? What other way can you find?

So at 21, you are not entitled to have roots. At 21 you
learn to accept finitude. And overcome it.

 

 

Clouds’ Eternal Fuzziness

When I was a child I always imagined clouds to be like cozy beds in the sky. Whilst travelling on a plane I dreamt of jumping out of the window and bury my head in these giant white balls of fluff. Of course I was completely oblivious to science, never mind the fact that you cannot open airplane windows. It is not an original thought, I have probably seen many characters in children’s books lying, sleeping and playing on clouds. When I realised this was a lie it came to me as a shock. Nobody ever told me, but it was a slow development, slow like that of the mysterious Santa Clause whom I have never seen with my own eyes. Somewhere along the way of growing up it just dawned on me – and the magic vanished.

However, there is still something elevating and wonderful about watching clouds passing by under an airplane. They have never lost their connotation of comfort. I am typing these words as I watch France disappear in the distance from above. I am headed home for Christmas. The feeling of returning can simply be summarised as uplifting, fuzzy and comforting. Coming home is like lying on a cloud – even science cannot ruin this comparison for me.

Brussels: Christmas in the Wronged City

The title may seem a little drastic to some of you, however, this is exactly what I felt during my prolonged weekend trip a bit over a week ago.

You have probably heard of the lockdown as a result of the manhunt after the gruesome attacks in Paris on the 13th November. When I heard that Brussels was on terror alert level 4 (out of 4), with people being advised to stay at home if possible, I was conflicted. I had booked  the trip a few weeks before and felt very reluctant to cancel it now. The media urged everyone not to be scared, this is what they wanted, we cannot give up our European way of life now! This is so much easier said than done. You cannot help but ask yourself “what if”. What if I go, what if something happens, what if I am only stuck in my appartment, but most of all: What if I don’t go? Thankfully, the situation eased and now it was only terror alert level 3. Despite the lingering feeling of unease, cancelling was not an option.

When I arrived at Brussels airport in the evening, alone, clamping the handle of my suitcase, bobbing up and down uneasily on the escalator, the first thing I saw was two soldiers, fully armed – laughing. Of all the things I was expecting, I was not expecting this. In the bus to the flat I had rented I heard people chatting about their last date, what they were up to the weekend, and everyone was very polite. Even for just moving over an inch in the bus to make space for someone you got a “merci beaucoup” in return.

This leads me to language. The urge to answer in Spanish was ever-present. Yes, a few “gracias” and “sí” did happen. However, in a town with 3 languages most commonly spoken, hardly anybody minds a slip of the tongue.

What I adore most about Brussels in December is the Christmas spirit lurking behind every corner. From a dazzling light show at the Grand-Place to the mouthwatering displays in the chocolatier’s windows, everything seems to radiate Christmas. Not only due to the weather it is a bit harder to get into a Christmas spirit in Spain.

Yes, it sometimes crossed my mind that only a week before the city was frantically searching for the people responsible for the Paris attacks, that some areas of Brussels might feel less safe than others. However, this was nothing that could not be fixed with a little gut feeling and common sense. Soldiers could be seen ever so often in the city centre and also the outskirts, but instead of making you feel scared, they gave a sense of security – I know this is what they are supposed to do . To anyone who is considering visiting Belgium’s captial anytime soon, trust your gut feeling most of all. In my opinion, the city does not fail to give you a cozy and homely feeling, despite the military presence.

Christmas lights in Brussel

Some stores get quite creative with their Christmas decoration!

Next to the Christmas magic you get military presence…

The Grand Place during the light show

The European Parliament

chocolate – do I need to say more?

The one time I wondered why I took a picture of a sight.

Galerie de la Reine/ Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert

The Grand Place at dusk

Christmas lights in front of the Ferris wheel

Brussels Christmas market

Roundabouts with…interesting rides

There’s no waffle like home. Eh. Belgian waffle.

Town hall at the Grand Place

Inside the Parlamentarium

A Question of Existence

In a non-representative survey among my friends I asked them what they think does not exist. This is not about right or wrong, but about sentiments or generelly held beliefs.  Before you read the examples me and my friends came up with, spend a few seconds thinking about the question: What does not exist? Afterwards you can compare if you came up with similar ideas.

Things that supposedly do not exist:

• Santa
• The Easter Bunny
• Love at first sight
• Unicorns
• Absolute objectivity
• Things that don’t exist (meaning everything exists)
• Winter in Spain

While I could go about discussing all of the terms above, one that definitely hits home is the winter in Spain. It still being November we have not reached the wintery season completely, yet it is coming. Before I went to Spain, I had many people telling me that I was so lucky as I would miss the winter this year – and I was convinced myself that winter in Spain does not exist. Now I know better.

First things first: of course the temperatures are not comparable to Germany, Britain or even Scandinavia. After all this is the Mediterranean with its corresponding climate. However, winter has become a very real concept with the first night with one-digit temperatures. During the day we currently enjoy roughly 12 degrees. In Germany I would surely call this a mild winter. Nonetheless, in Germany I live in a well insulated house with a radiator in every room. Here my ceiling is twice the height, the walls very thin, the house tiled and relatively old. I absolutely adore my flat and I was aware that the cold would be a problem. After this very brief ‘complaint’ about the existent winter in Spain, I have some tested and approved tricks how to keep warm:

• Tea. Many many cups of tea keep me warm during the day when I sit in my room studying. If the outside is cold, try to keep the inside warm.
• Food. Fuel your body with (favourably) warm food. Fit in some mood food as the cold can quickly ruin anyone’s mood. On the other hand, be aware that you also need more vitamins to make sure that you do not get ill!
• Hot water bottles. There is hardly anything worse than going to bed with icecubes for feet – and not being able to warm them up in any way.
• Electric blankets. When the problem extends to your legs and arms, an electric blanket might be the solution for you. I have to admit I invested in one now and they are lovely to heat up the bed before you cuddle up. Just pay attention to the manual and especially to the safety guidelines! If used incorrectly, electric blankets can cause fires.
• Layers. You might feel ridiculous, sitting in your own house wearing a hat, but this might make you feel better. You lose a lot of heat over your head. Layers in general are a good idea, as you can easily regulate by taking a layer off or adding one.
• Heater. Captain Obvious strikes again.  Electric radiators are of course an option. You have to keep in mind that energy costs can go up drastically, depending on how long you use the radiator for.

No matter what you do, keep warm and think twice: some things might actually exist.

Looking Back

This is probably a weird time to get this nostalgic glint in our eyes and look at the past but as I have been kindly informed by WordPress, Souls of Wit is already one year old! And since we don’t miss any occasion to celebrate (and drink alcohol) let’s raise an imaginary glass and thank all our dear readers, followers, supporters, friends, and partners in crime for wonderful, exciting 365 days. Please take this as official permission to find the softest, juiciest, most finger-licking delicious cake in your close proximity and indulge in it without the tiniest morsel of regret.

Cheers!