Sitting in an airplane back home.
Mir ist nach Schreiben auf Deutsch, was komisch ist, wo ich die letzte Zeit eindeutig ins Englische geswitcht habe und im Gespräch oft übersetze oder mich im deutschen Ausdruck total schräg fühle.
Maybe I’ll just make this a mix of English and German. I love that both languages are reading on.
What makes me German?
Und wie kann ich mich an einem fremden Ort zuhause fühlen und mich trotzdem auf zuhause freuen?
I feel It’s a play of identities here – and the truth of who I am is hidden somewhere beyond which language I speak and which nationality I make jokes about.
I have missed the sunset. Airplane staff asked us to close the windows so we can all pretend it’s night. Well it’s close to 8pm (20h…) California time and we’ve now reached night. Which is so beautiful to watch from above the clouds. L.A. this morning was cloudy once again and windy. I don’t know what it is with the wind and me but it feels like a greeting.
Maybe a greeting from heaven… After this seriously beautiful church service at Glide church downtown San Francisco last Sunday – of course framed by a gospel choir…. I’m willing to be a bit more Christian than usual 🙂
That church service (mass? Well it can’t be spelled mess) was a love declaration to freedom and diversity and the beauty of each and every one of us. And it did not separate between people in and out of that church. It was more like a community gathering with an explicit declaration to not look away if things are tough. I was moved to tears…
Something that has otherwise not happened on that trip. You know how seeing beauty can feel like sadness, moving you so much the world closes down on that moment and the moment stretches and stretches?
I don’t know how come I deserve so much beauty. I keep feeling I should have done something special to deserve this. Or I should have had a day that was really deep and then it opens up into such a special moment. And you frame it, hang it on a wall, and……
I do have this sneaky feeling of my expectations still casting a big shadow over my life, and while at times that may feel cozy and secure, it comes to me as a surprise to simply step out in the sun and discover you need to move less and still can be warm.
((no I’ll not start on Californian weather here, but note you future travelers to the Left Coast, that you do NOT need to take neither an umbrella nor shorts. Or fancy short-armed clothes for a concert. Or fancy sandals unless you’re willing to suffer while wearing them – ok I’ll stop))
I have just convinced the stewardess to be allowed to leave the window open. She explained that at one point (soon????) the sun will rise and then sleeping passenger will wake up again. Honestly. The process to stick to and all that. I remember I got real passionate yesterday evening giving a speech on why we need to be careful not to stick to any process just for the sake of the process. This is what happens sharing a Manhattan with Sylvia. I earned tourist points for saying I’ve never tried it but I’ve watched Sex & the City. I shall not head for New York soon – not enough intellect at play I’m afraid… Talking of which, I really like the fruits & nutters here. Which is now not here any more. In that country behind me. Where they have Californian fruits and where people have the most lovely tendency to be a bit nuts.
Stars are appearing on the horizon. It looks as if we’re flying in nothingness. So beautiful.
Should it still happen to me that a guy proposes to me – may it be under the stars. Or in nature. Ok fine, may he be nice and a star to me and I’m fine with the rest.
I keep being amazed by the landscapes I’ve soaked in.
I am happy I have taken photos so I’ll be able to sort it all out a little bit.
And at the same time exactly this is something utterly weird.
Do I need photos to remember?
And what happens to all those beautiful moments if I forget them? Are they stored somewhere inside of me where they unfold a secret life of their own?