Friend in doubt

Some time ago I was thinking – and writing here – about friendship. I realize that I keep coming back to this subject and I have the slightest suspicion this may be caused by a couple of situations earlier this summer, making me feel the need for honesty and loyalty in a friendship stronger than ever. There have been difficult moments with certain friends and while I considered my reactions to be justified then, I wasn’t so sure when I recalled these incidents later. I still haven’t come to a final conclusion, still find myself uncertain, still find new questions whenever I think I have the answers.

Many rash words have been spoken in the past, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, and while I wouldn’t say they were all wrong, they were certainly spoken too hastily, too impulsively to be in any way considerate. So I knew my reaction was premature but instead of questioning my own motivation I started to question the concerned relationships, looking for justification of my wrong behaviour. I felt no longer confident about these relationships, my evaluation of these friendships. I thought that maybe the difficult moments could only arise because I had read too much into these relationships, calling them friendship on a very high level, expecting too much input from the other one. I questioned these people’s friendship, their loyalty. I figured that I had reacted the way I did because I felt somewhat 'unrewarded', I felt that my input wasn’t acknowledged the way it should be and that I was giving a lot more than I was receiving in return. This thought occupied me for quite a while and finally led me to wonder whether a true friendship could ever be about expectations, about input or some kind of ’quid pro quo’ situation. This was the moment I started thinking about everything I have written under Friendship, wondering what exactly friendship means to me, what my friends mean to me.

After writing it all down, what happened was that I became much clearer about my own intentions and expectations but also about my mistakes and misconceptions regarding friendship. I could see clearly what friendship should be and what it shouldn’t be and where I needed to become more mindful, more appreciative and more selfless.

What didn’t happen was that I got rid of all my doubts. Some remained. Some friends remained 'under question', even after seeing that friendship is not about expectation, about being rewarded for what I give. It seemed to me that these friendships are somewhat unbalanced. Despite not expecting return services for my loyalty or my faith, I found that I feel uneasy if I keep on offering but am offered nothing in return. Not because of reward. It’s a question of trust, I think. If I look at friendship as being some kind of commitment, how can I listen to a friend’s thoughts, ideas, fears but hardly ever reveal any of my own, keeping my distance. Friends do not need to tell each other everything, I’m sure there are things that are not necessarily part of a friendship and sometimes there may be things one can’t talk about immediately and has to come to terms with for oneself before being able to talk about. But if I feel that there is something wrong in a friend’s behaviour, something troubling him or her, making me feel uneasy or awkward in his or her company over a prolonged time, standing between us, effecting our friendship even, and they still don’t talk to me, don’t I have a right to feel hurt?

I honestly don’t know. I just don’t find an answer. Of course I have to accept a friend’s decision not to tell me, but can I really avoid to become doubtful about such a friendship in the long run? Is it not natural that I start to question a friend if I feel that trust is not mutual in this friendship? How can I help beginning to wonder what the reasons for this may be? If I am not given any real reasons, my mind starts to make up others. I know this is wrong and I try to work on it, try to remain objective, try not to become attached to these thoughts, but it’s not easy. I see that the innocence of this friendship might get lost, so I talk to the person of my doubts but am told in return that I have no reason to worry. I want to believe this – but again, doubt arises. I look into the past to find the moment when things started to change and looking from my new perspective of doubt, I find more doubt. I find signs that it started long before I realized, I find potential untruth and I start to question more and more. I don’t trust my own perception anymore, especially as I know everything I feel is influenced by my recent loss of another person. I know that and I know it's not right, but I feel like I'm in some kind of limbo. I do not want to lose this friendship and much less do I want to harm it unjustified, a friend so dear and important in my life. A special friend. A soul friend maybe.

I have to be careful not to give too much space to this problem – 'constructing a story around it' as we call it at the buddhist center – and I’m well aware this might be just what I’m doing. Sometimes my imagination is way too vivid and I find it hard to differ between what is there in reality and what springs from my own fantasy or past experiences. The longer I let it happen, the more the borders will blur, making it more and more difficult to get back to the hard facts. Yes, a danger foreseen is half avoided – it's just so difficult to put into practice what we already know in theory, isn't it? So many obstacels to be broken ... idleness, fear, ego. And the painful experience of finding all these fears, suspicions and doubts being finally confirmed is still so fresh and hurting that it’s hard too remain objective and stop myself from projecting what happened with one friend onto another.

Despite the many words I know there is only one solution. I know I have to talk to this friend again, being open and honest about my doubts, leaving enough space for understanding and possible explanation on his part and a will to understand and believe as well as the readiness to admit to possible wrong conclusions on my part.

How do I tell a person I have – temporarily maybe – lost faith in his or her loyalty and honesty? Maybe that is the moment true friendship reveals itself, in being able to work this out, to come out even stronger of a crisis like this. Of course this is wishful thinking on my part, especially as I have just learned the hard way that it may also happen quite differently, but what else can I do but remain positive and optimistic? If I’m not, how can I see any sense in a difficult situation, a confrontation like the one I have to seek now or in the future?

"My favourite season"

Thinking about autumn and it's many different aspects, it's heady beauty, it's dignity and grandeur, I am tempted to call it 'my favourite season'.

But then I start thinking about spring and instantly recall the dazzling beauty, the lusciousness I associate with it. It's so hard to decide ... and I find myself thinking: Maybe it's rather spring, that is my favourite season?

Until I remember the many things I loved about last summer and suddenly start to wonder: Isn't summer a season I love so much, maybe even my favourite of all the seasons?... It's opulence, it's radiant beauty, I surely wouldn't want to miss that?

Especially as the above are just the aspects necessary to provide an apt contrast to everything I love about winter ... it's austere beauty, it's frosty elegance. Because winter, you know, might just be ... my favourite season.
...

(Smiling, sighing ... I'll just drop the unnecessary comparative here.)

I vaguely recall a poem by some Chinese Zen master on this very subject but must admit that I remember only the first few lines ... hold on, I'll try to find the book ..!

(5 min. later)

I got it, here it is:

---

Ten thousand flowers in spring,
the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer,
snow in winter.

If your mind isn't clouded
by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.

(Wu Men)

Friendship

Brooding once again, still contemplating human relations – friendship and it's different aspects, effects, implications and correlations ... occupying my mind for weeks now.

I realized that I never really thought about friendship in the past and that despite certainly appreciating my friends I somehow took them for granted for a very long time. I never really cared a lot about friendship. I don't mean to say that I do not care about the people who are my friends – of course I care about them – what I mean is that I never cared much about finding friends. If it happened, it was fine, but if it didn't – well, it didn't bother me too much. Being much of a loner anyway, I never measured my popularity with people by the number of friends I had. When I was younger I often looked at having a lot of friends as being a bit of a burden, a strain. People bugging me, stealing precious time I'd rather spend by myself. Quite selfish maybe, I know, but what can I say – that's the way it was. It's different now. I'm grateful I have my friends and I wouldn't want to miss any of them, however different from one another they may be. I feel they are all genuine in their very own way.

But what exactly does friendship mean, what does it mean to have a friend, to be a friend? Does it mean the same for everyone of us? I found that Europeans use the terms 'friend' and 'friendship' quite different from Americans for example. While in many European countries 'friend' is a status granted to a rather small number of people only, typically describing a very close long-term relationship, clearly distinguished from the more superficial and non-committal 'acquaintanceship', Americans often use the term 'friend' more freely and general. So, just to avoid misunderstanding: when I use the term friendship here, I understand it in the 'traditional' European sense of the word, a relationship based on esteem, trust, loyalty and mutual understanding. It may contain a certain emotional intimacy but not in a sexual context.

Some of us, especially the younger ones, use the term 'friend' rather easily, while others have quite a struggle with that expression. Special friendships – those that stand out of the big pool of different relationships we build up over the years – are very rare. Most of us have a whole variety of interpersonal relations and I want to draw a clear line between mere acquaintanceship and real friendship here, leaving out relatives as well. Parents and siblings may have a lot of influence on us, especially as we grow up, but they are not what I am thinking about at the moment.

Who are the people we call our friends and why do we call them that? What does the expression 'friend' mean to us and in how far do our various 'friendships' differ from one another? Friends, true friends, close friends, best friends – we distinguish between so many different kinds of friends and while most women seem to be quite particular about these distinctions, many men seem to avoid the term 'friend' altogether, prefering to call their friends 'mates', 'buddies' or 'lads' instead. I think the average modern male friendship has little in common with classic or antique concepts of friendship between men. At least in our western world it is often complicated by social manipulation, conditioning and – as a result – subliminal homophobia. I do not want to imply that there is no real friendship between men, I just think it's rare. And the rarest of all seems to be sincere and lasting friendship between male and female, friendship independent of gender, based not on romantic or sexual aspects but on mutual understanding and a deep confidence in each other.
In native Hawaii they have a concept of friendship known as pili hoaloha – a devoted, platonic union between members of the same or opposite sex, a commitment between two friends, reaching it's climax in a ceremonial act not unlike a wedding. Pili hoaloha goes much deeper than our modern understanding of friendship, it's more like a 'cohabitation of soul friends'. The Hawaiians do also have ceremonies for 'normal' sexual marriages of course, but they clearly differ between these.

If I get more particular and start to focus just on what we call our best friends, isn't it surprising how different from one another they still are? What is it that attracts our interest in a certain person, that makes us feel congenial with him or her, raises enough emotion, enough affection and confidence in us to want to be friends with this person? What is it that creates the foundation for a future friendship? Is it shared experience? A person's appearance? Charisma? Or a certain quality in that person? Are we trying to supply a want, an unsatisfied need in ourselves by making friends with somebody, giving in to a subliminal selfish interest? And if we are, are we honest enough to admit to this, trying to understand what's driving us? Maybe it's a blend of all those aspects in different shares. It might vary from person to person and even within one friendship the focus might shift over the years, as friendship grows, developes and changes with us.

Thinking of friendship in the purest sense of the word, the term altruism comes to my mind. How many of our friends do we love unselfishly, without regard to reward or benefit for ourselves? I dare say that most of us are far from a sublime virtue like that: wholeheartedly loving a person not for his or her qualities, skills or attributes, but simply for being a fellow human being. Sometimes we experience a short glimpse of that altruism, feeling some kind of abstract love, of Metta or loving kindness, a sudden concern for the well-being of a person beyond rational understanding or selfish interest. But normally our motives are not quite so unselfish. When we say we miss someone, normally we mean that we miss that person's company. We miss that friend in our life. If we're honest with ourselves we'll recognize it as the selfish wish to be provided with what we lack in ourselves. The more friends we have with a certain quality, the less we will miss any one of them but if a certain interest is shared with only one friend, we will miss him or her very quickly. When we are bored, we miss the entertainment, the diversion or amusement this person offers. Or we miss the safety, the strength this friend provides whenever we feel weak. Many of the people we call our friends we call so simply because we share some kind of interest. It's more like a syndicate than a real friendship. If one of the involved parties starts to change, developes or redirects his or her interests, we may find that we have nothing else in common and often such a friendship will just fizzle out.

All this (and a lot more) went through my head, trying to define the meaning of the word 'friendship' for myself. While all this thinking opened my eyes for some aspects I hadn't really regarded so far, I realized that there will probably be 'friendships' that might not stand up to it in the long run, that will remain mere acquaintanceships despite calling them friendship and I accepted the fact that it just makes no sense to constantly question whether or not some friendship is a true and stable one in the purest sense of the word.

We need friends to master this life. We need people who share our interests, who listen to us, who understand and care for us. And in return, being friends, we fulfill this need in others. Only now have I come to understand that the people from whom we receive these gifts do not necessarily have to be the people to whom we offer them in return. One man's teacher might be another's scholar, every scholar might be another's teacher. Life changes all the time, people and situations change, nothing can ever be final or constant. Also, every friendship consists of at least two people and even if I am sure about my own motifs, I'll never know about the other's. I have to trust. That's part of the concept of friendship I think – confidence and trust.

I might feel a lot of friendly affection for somebody and still this person might not return my feelings, which will hurt me – because of my still too alive ego – but shouldn't change my feelings for that person. Friendship - as love - should be about giving, not receiving, in the first place. I am well aware that it's pretty hard to practice altruism and that I'll probably never manage to be completely altruistic. It's illusory. I am far from reaching the ideal of complete unselfishness but that doesn't mean I stop trying. I'll try not to lessen those of my friendships that seem somewhat 'minor' to others – less intense maybe, less exciting, less intellectual – and I'll try to stop judging by what benefits I gain myself. As long as these friends have an interest in seeing me, I should keep in mind that they might just judge the very same friendship completely different. Looking back on my life so far, I must admit that sometimes my 'best friends' didn't necessarily prove to be 'true friends'. Sometimes the true friends were people I didn't even count among my closer friends. And I might not be my best friend's 'best friend' (ego beware!). So I guess there's not much of a point in all this labelling and classifying after all. A friend can only be a friend if I let him in, if I do not judge in advance, if I accept his or her friendship and do not shut myself off.

And while my mind starts to go even further here, toward a yet different kind of friendship – spiritual friendship – I think I'll grant us a little break. I'm really, really tired now, writing for hours on end, as usual.

I'll be back some time soon, so ... good night!

A Gardener's Life

"In his or her life, each person can take one of two attitudes: to build or to plant.

Builders may take years over their tasks, but one day they will finish what they are doing. Then they will stop, hemmed in by their own walls. Life becomes meaningless once the building is finished.

Those who plant suffer the storms and the seasons and rarely rest. Unlike the building, a garden never stops growing. And by its constant demands on the gardener's attentions, it makes the gardener's life a great adventure."

(Paulo Coelho, 'Brida')

Autumn

I can hardly believe it, but it's already autumn again. We switched the clocks to winter time, finally admitting to the shorter, darker days. And as much as the autumn is a time of acknowledgement and gratitude, a time of 'Thanksgiving' in so many aspects, feeling grateful for all the different harvests - literal or symbolic – that we may have brought in over the year, it's also a time to gather ourselves and strengthen our spirits in preparation for the passage into Winter ...

Yes, yes and yes - all of you sending me text messages, e-mails, talking on my answering machine or whatever other way you chose in trying to contact me, I know it was in vain. And again yes, you are right ... I am a slightly faithless friend these days. I am sorry. I really am. It's not like I don't think of you all, I do, quite often to be honest. I just never seem to get down to show a sign of life - but I assure you, I am still here! Very much so. Please don't be angry, don't be cross, I feel I just need a little time-out right now. Some of you know this already, I need my times of retreat from everything I normally do and everybody I normally see, it's not personal in any way and I don't mean to offend anybody by not returning your calls or not answering your messages.

If I say I need to retreat from everything, maybe I'm giving a wrong impression. It's not a retreat from everyday life (as much as I'd like that). Not like the meditation retreats I take. It's rather an attempt to take 'one thing at a time', focusing on certain aspects of my life only, trying to get a few things done properly instead of halfheartedly leaving a lot unfinished. I spend a lot of time at the buddhist center, meditating, studying, learning, taking in a whole lot of new knowledge and impetus, absorbing it and reflecting on it when I'm not there. I decided to give it more time, spend more time at the center as well, because I realized that just going there every now and then, practicing only when I find the time, didn't prove to be very successful. So for the moment I put it in the center of my life and arrange everything else around it until I feel more 'grounded', rooted in what I hopefully learn to understand more deeply and finally may become able to make a genuine part of my life.

Meanwhile, life is going on as usual, faster than I want maybe. But that's the way it is, it just happens and I flow with it.

So what's new? ... Well, the roof problem is getting into crunch mode, about to be solved I hope, as I really couldn't avoid it any longer. In the end, it got more expensive than I hoped (but probably still cheaper than it might have become). I don't know about these things, I never owned more than 2.000 Euros and everything above 5.000 Euros certainly seems a fortune to me. The roof will cost twice that amount, leaving me speechless and kind of paralyzed. I think I've told you that the bank refused to give me the money and that I really didn't know how to advance after that. After a lot of talking to my relatives, an uncle agreed to lend me the money if I assign the house for security. I did – but happy as I am to get the roof repaired now, I'm also quite worried about how I will ever pay him back. It's so much money. We didn't talk about the period of time he'll grant me to repay him or about the exact amount of my monthly installments, so I can just hope he is realistic enough to realize that it will probably take years and years. Anyway, fact is that I'll have a new roof on the house before christmas (I hope). That in mind - and ample relief in my heart - I try not to think about that unpleasant money thing too much. After all, it's only money ...

What else can I tell you. I fell in love. And out of love. And in again. I don't quite know what to make of it myself. It's all very complicated and I don't think I'm through with the subject yet, still trying to find clarity. Can I control whether or not I have my heart broken? I'm not sure. I guess what I'm trying to do is reducing the risk, cutting my losses. Letting my intellect rule over my emotion. Waiting what life has to add ... I guess it will have it's say in this after all. And probably the final one ...

I'm still having a busy time thinking about friendships, relationships of all kinds. Working on some of them, feeling fine with some others, testing here, questioning there. How does this go with not getting back to most of my friends, you might ask. Well, I'm not sure. Maybe it's about reducing risks as well. Or about trying to remain focused, trying not to take too much at a time. The way I tend to scrutinize everything right now, maybe it's better that way, keeping those friendships out that I do not regard to be on the 'doubtful side'. If you find that I make myself very scarce these days, you're probably one of those friends I feel confident with. Confident enough to trust that you'll understand or at least tolerate my momentary retreat from everything. I don't want to imply that I take any of your friendship for granted. Very much the opposite is the case. I am grateful that I have a couple of friends who provide a certain 'constant' in my life and who allow me to fall back on.

Please remain patient and grant me a little more time. I'll be back soon, I promise!

Gossamer Days

Last weekend, early in the morning, I decided to go for a walk up the vineyard, still covered in fog and dew. I regarded the grapes – they are abundant this year – when I realized there were cobwebs literally everywhere. Hundreds and hundreds of them, absolutely intriguing. The sun was just about to break through and the dew formed little shimmering pearls on every one of those fragile spider webs, as if somebody had strung beads all over the vineyard.
At that moment I felt really sorry I had no camera, it was so beautiful and I wanted to capture that moment for my friends to share. In the end I took some 'scanty' pictures with my mobile phone …

It's a pity blogger reduces the photos, because you can't really make out the single pearls of dew the way you can in the real photo. But still, it gives you an impression. And you can always click to enlarge the photos I think ...

Isn't this a wonderful time ..? The soft sun, the dew, the colours, the cobwebs, the wind and - sometimes a bit irritating - those fine strands of baby spider's webs, 'gossamer' I think they are called. I remember my grandma in Connecticut calling certain mild autumn days 'Gossamer Days' because of that, but I'm not sure if it's a common expression? These almost invisible baby webs are floating around everywhere now and when the sun is low they'll catch the light, looking like very fine strands of silvery white hair, reminding me of why the Germans call this time Altweibersommer, 'Old Wive's Summer', which – in turn – reminds me of my grandmother ...

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Im Herbst

Der schöne Sommer ging von hinnen,
Der Herbst, der reiche, zog ins Land.
Nun weben all die guten Spinnen
So manches feine Festgewand.

Sie weben zu des Tages Feier
Mit kunstgeübtem Hinterbein
Ganz allerliebste Elfenschleier
Als Schmuck für Wiese, Flur und Hain.

Ja, tausend Silberfäden geben
Dem Winde sie zum leichten Spiel,
Die ziehen sanft dahin und schweben
Ans unbewußt bestimmte Ziel.

Sie ziehen in das Wunderländchen,
Wo Liebe scheu im Anbeginn,
Und leis' verknüpft ein zartes Bändchen
Den Schäfer mit der Schäferin.

(Wilhelm Busch)

---

In Autumn

The lovely summer has been leaving,
and with its wealth arrived the fall.
The spiders are all kindly weaving
fine garments for the festival.

They're weaving for the celebration,
with hindlegs practiced in the trade,
the veils of elves as decoration
for hill and dale and mead and glade.

Yes, thousand silver threads donated
into the wind, to turn and bend,
are softly drifting where they're fated
to an unconscious, settled end.

They're drifting toward a fairy landing
where love commences shy caress
and softly ties, with silken banding,
the shephard to the shephardess.

(Wilhelm Busch)

Separation

Separation

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle
Everything I do is stitched with its color

(W.S. Merwin)

Coping ... happily

Yes, I know, haven't written much lately. There's so much happening right now that I'd hardly know where to start. My time is all filled up with life's unfolding and me trying to keep pace and the days just pass without leaving any space for writing.

Things are changing, things are happening, things are developing, things are ending. It's hard to sort it all out but I think I am coping quite well so far. It is a difficult but also challenging time concerning relationships. Some are ending, some are growing, some are just being developed and others are redeveloped. It's an inspiring and confusing time in terms of spiritual growth. It's an exciting time concerning every little bit of myself, my life, in every respect.

I have come out of retreat only last weekend and while I feel quite peaceful and happy, I also feel very much alert and all my senses seem to be sharpened and I have to be careful not to get myself into a state of sensory and emotional overload. I'm trying to start off slow now, dealing with everything that happens one by one, which is not always easy, things tend to happen just in their own time and more often than not, all at once. They sure do at the moment ... yet I am determined not to let that impress or rush me, I know that no good will come from it if I do.

Ever since I'm back to intensive meditation, on retreat but also in daily life, it's been getting easier to cope with things. Seeing clearer, acting more aware again. I know that I have made an unhappy decision when I let it slide over the summer. I haven't practiced long enough and I am not stable enough to deal with occurring problems all by myself without the help of meditation and spiritual friends and teachers. I fell back into my old patterns and old habits and found it harder and harder to be mindful in everyday life. I started to feel lost and helpless and overwhelmed by life and I guess some of my friends and other people around me had to suffer from my frustration and mindlessness. I missed the vivid exchange, the generous sharing of interests, thoughts and teachings, the spiritual stimulus that I now experience with friends and teachers at the buddhist center. Going there is a real inspiration for my practise and strengthening me in everyday life, also enriching my friendships 'outside' I believe.

Considering what I have just said, thinking it over again, I find that everything I do right now, in one way or another, has to do with relationship. In several different aspects. Relationships, friendships, past and present, have very much influenced me on my path and now I find that it kind of reverberates, that the course my path takes influences my relationships, or rather me and the way I relate to people – which is not the same I think, but probably comes down to the same in the end.

My most personal challenge lately is the community-conscious togetherness that I experience at the buddhist center. I am really the typical loner, happy and content all by myself and more often than not I find being with others quite a strain. There are moments when the close company of people may cause both physical and mental stress in me, resulting in feelings of panic, circulation problems, being unable to breathe, attacks of sweating, heavy headaches, stuff like that. What I used do in order to avoid this was – quite simply – avoiding company. Sure, I had a couple of close friends and a few family members that I still managed to see on a regular basis and normally without any problems, but even with them I never really felt tempted to spend a longer time. My maximum tolerance limit in being with somebody (when there is no possibility to avoid one another) is maybe three days. But depending on my general condition, at times a single evening may be too much. After a certain time my ability to socialise just declines rapidly and I start to feel under pressure, harassed, ill at ease. It's more difficult the more people are associated. Big Parties are almost impossible. Gatherings of any kind are pure horror for me, especially if I am expected to play an active role, be present, take part. It's not like I am shy, at least not more than is normal and healthy. It's different. I feel like my energy is being sucked off me, like the need to converse, to be present, exhausts me beyond my strengths. I really need to be by myself then. Centre myself, collect my thoughts, gain some kind of mental balance again. The day after such events I always feel extremely tired and worn out.
Don't get me wrong, it's not like this is happening all the time. Normally I'm just fine when I am with people for a couple of hours, for a single day or even longer, as long as there is enough space for me to withdraw at certain times. The normal living-together in a house or big appartment, like with a family or in a relationship, is not really a problem. It's only in situations of being too close together, when people leave no room for me to draw back, force their company on me, that it becomes a problem. It's been the reason I have been avoiding people for a very long time. Loosing a lot of friends for want of input from my side. Finding it hard to make new friends for fear of possible panic attacks and the need to explain to a stranger what I do not quite understand myself.

Sometime ago, after describing it to a friend and for the first time becoming completely aware of it myself, I decided that it cannot go on like that. That I have to work on this problem, find out why it happens, when it happens and what the reasons may be. I could go on about it here but I will spare you the details. I have come to some conclusions and I have my own theories to part of the problem by now, but most important, I think that I'm slowly progressing.
Situations like now during the retreat (and this was not a solely silent retreat, there were periods of prolonged silence as well as periods of intense emotional exchange), sharing a room with strangers, being together day and night ... that simply wouldn't have been possible a short while ago, while now I actually find myself feeling perfectly comfortable, even missing this 'togetherness' to a certain degree. Well, I must admit that at one point though, during a very early meditation, I had a slight relapse, starting to panic, starting to sweat and feeling dizzy all of a sudden. But I'm not sure if it had anything to do with my old problem or if it's just been a 'normal' circulation problem, due to the early hour, an empty stomach and a slightly too strong scent of 'Nag Champa' in an overheated room (for now, I'll blame it on the latter).
One thing that makes a huge difference is whether or not I can relate to people, if there is a certain point of identification, of mutual understanding. The first time I realized I can cope was in Austria. Even if it wasn't as intense as my recent experience, I still could relate to the people of that hiking-group, just not quite as wholeheartedly maybe. I managed to spend whole days with that group, which for me was already quite an achievement, yet I think I couldn't have shared a room with any of them, I still needed a certain physical distance.
I find that in the end, it all comes down to a question of trust and understanding. If I really trust in somebody and feel that there is a certain understanding between me and that person, I will be fine. Because somebody who really tends to understand me and my motives (and I don't mean on an intellectual level but rather from an intuitive emotional level) will automatically leave me enough space to withdraw mentally if I need it, however restricted the spacial or physical circumstances may be. As soon as I feel there is mutual understanding, I trust and feel free and at ease with this person.

It was a completely new experience for me to discover that I do not necessarily find this quality primarily in people I have known for a long time, but that if I look in the right places, look the right way, I might find it in others as well. People I have just met may carry this quality. So the secret seems to be in looking, in searching and in letting it happen. It doesn't help if I withdraw myself from the world, protecting myself from people. I shouldn't look so much on what I want to avoid but on what I want to find. That's what I'm doing right now, open myself, for potential friends, for companions on my way through this life. They may be old and they may be new. Discovered or rediscovered, I think I'll have to develope a whole new way of looking at people and while some relationships may surprise me in a positive way, others may not stand the test. Sometimes I'll hurt, sometimes I'll be scared, sometimes I'll shine with happiness and every now and then I'll still be hazed by doubt, but all the time ... I have a feeling that it's worthwhile, a feeling of contentment and gratitude, that this may be my path ...

Scarúint

Gabh uaim amach in oíche na haimsire.
Amach sa bháisteach,
I séideán ama.
Gabh uaim amach
Ar na sráideanna bánaithe.
Feadaíl gaoithe i simnéithe cathrach
Suas giota gairid chun cairr
Ach amach óm shaol.
Saol beag árasáin
Solas is teas
Compordúil iad seal
Dúinn araon.

Níor dhearcas thar dhoras m'eispéarais amach
Is leanas tú,
Ach lean tú mé!
Beirt lán d'fhéineachas
Nár oir riamh
Dá chéile.
Cén chaoi ar fhanamar
Seal faoi thost
I lár gréithreán ár n-anama
I gcontráracht nádúire?
D'fhanamar seal beag
Ón mbaisteach;
Ón bhfuacht, bhí fothain
In árasán folamh ár mbeatha.
(Sin é an chaoi)
Is cé bhréagfadh an éifeacht
Ag dearcadh isteach ón oíche.
Gabh ort anois
Suas go barr sráide
Is cas ar chlé.
Ní fhillfidh tú orm níos mó,
Aonaráin
Ag gabaháil ó chéile,
Ach ní gean é an gátar
Sa bhfothain.

(Máire Áine Nic Ghearailt)

---

Parting

Go out into the stormy night
Out into the rain
Into the blasts of time
Go out
Into the deserted streets
Where the wind blows
In the chimneys of the town
On the short way up to the car
Just out of my life
Little apartment life
Warmth and light
Comfortable for us
For a while.

I did not look beyond
The threshold of my own experience
And followed you,
But you followed me!
Each an integral whole
We did not complement each other.
What held us together
Silent
In the glimmer of our souls
Against our own nature?
Searching for a while
Shelter from the rain;
Shelter from the cold, hiding
In the empty apartment of our life.
(That’s the way it is)
A delusive picture
For anybody looking in to us
From the night.
Come on now
Go up, to the high end of the street
Than turn left.
Do not return to me.
Two loners
Parting.
But love is more
Than accommodation.

---

Trennung

Geh hinaus in die stürmische Nacht
hinaus in den Regen
in die Böen der Zeit.
Geh hinaus
in die verlassenen Straßen.
Wo der Wind pfeift
in den Schornsteinen der Stadt
auf dem kurzen Stück hinauf zum Wagen.
Nur raus aus meinem Leben.
Kleines Wohnungsleben
Wärme und Licht
eine Zeitlang bequem
für uns beide.

Ich schaute nicht hinaus
über die Schwelle meiner Erfahrung
und folgte dir,
aber du folgtest mir!
Jeder ein Ganzes
ergänzten wir uns nicht.
Was hielt uns zusammen
schweigend
im Schein unserer Seelen
entgegen unserer Natur?
Suchten eine Weile
Schutz vor dem Regen;
Schutz vor der Kälte, Sicherheit
in der leeren Wohnung unseres Lebens.
(So ist es)
Ein trügerisches Bild
für jeden, der aus der Nacht
zu uns hereinschaute.
Nun mach schon
geh hinauf, ans Ende der Straße
und dann links.
Kehr' nicht zu mir zurück.
Einzelgänger
die auseinander gehen.
Doch Liebe ist mehr
als ein Dach über dem Kopf.

Austerity Weekend

Having run out of money early this month (well, mainly due to going to Austria, which was sure worth it) I had to take some instant austerity measures, staying at home for a couple of days, avoiding everything that might end in spending what I don't have.

More or less forced to fast, dining on what is left in my fridge and still edible, I've been spending a lazy weekend, not doing much to be honest. At least I managed to wait until now to turn on the computer ..! I have been occupying myself with boring household tasks over the last days, doing the washing, ironing, cleaning windows and the like, things that have been waiting to be done for ages. Somehow I never get down to do all these things, commuting between here and the Eifel on a weekly basis, taking care of my derelict little house there.
That whole roof thing is still bothering me quite a bit. It seems almost certain now that the bank will not grant the credit I need to get the roof repaired. Lack of security they say. The house just isn't worth anything from their point of view. And I know they are right, but sure that won't help me a bit.

So I'm back at the setout, still trying to find a solution. With all the buckets up in the attic remaining empty in this unusual hot and dry September the problem didn't seem too urgent since I am back from Austria but of course I know that time is running and only too soon will I be back to overflowing buckets that can only be kept under control when I go there every weekend. Just that I can't, financially speaking. Gas is becoming so expensive, it's unbelievable. They charge fuel per litre here in Germany but converting the recent price it's about $6 per gallon. Germany and the Netherlands are the most expensive countries in the world now when it comes to gas prices, closely followed only by Great Britain. It seemed absolutely unreal to me when I paid less than 20 Euros to completely fill the car on the island of La Palma this spring. Spain seems to be a much cheaper place to be. Anyway, if I decide to spend the weekend in my house it will cost me more than 50 Euros ($60) just to get there, which makes 200 Euros a month. But since 200 Euros are all the money I can spend over the month, I'm in for a problem. I mean, it certainly can't be that I spend that much money on emptying buckets just because I can't afford to have the roof repaired. It seems somewhat preposterous to me. There MUST be a way but I'm afraid I don't see it so far.

And again ... call me Scarlett, but ... I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow ...

Silver

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy coat the white breasts peep
Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

(Walter de la Mare)



It's such a huge and bright full moon tonight ... I love the idea of how we all look at the same moon, no matter where we are ... and though the time difference won't let us all look at the same time, it's so sweet to imagine that while I look at the moon, being soothed by it's silvery light, somebody else might be looking up there at the very moment, kept awake like me, our glances unknowingly meeting, 240000 miles away from here. Sharing the same emotion, despite culture, despite distance ...

The Manifesto Of The Cloud Appreciation Society

We believe that clouds are unjustly maligned and that life would be immeasurably poorer without them.

We think that they are Nature’s poetry, and the most egalitarian of her displays, since everyone can have a fantastic view of them.

We pledge to fight ‘blue-sky thinking’ wherever we find it. Life would be dull if we had to look up at cloudless monotony day after day.

We seek to remind people that clouds are expressions of the atmosphere’s moods, and can be read like those of a person’s countenance.

Clouds are so commonplace that their beauty is often overlooked. They are for dreamers and their contemplation benefits the soul. Indeed, all who consider the shapes they see in them will save on psychoanalysis bills.

And so we say to all who'll listen: Look up, marvel at the ephemeral beauty, and live life with your head in the clouds!
-----------------------------------------------------
If you like watching clouds as much as I do, check out the Cloud Appreciation Society's website: http://www.cloudappreciationsociety.org

Stiff climbs and spooky trails

This was my most difficult day up here in the mountains. We left the broader hiking-trails completely, finally turning to the really steep climbs.

The trail we intended to take had been described to us yesterday as being a little precarious (I heard somebody else calling it 'spooky' ... and he was right!) due to continuously deteriorating conditions and plenty of loose rock and gravel. We had also been told that part of the route would involve a rather strenuous hand-over-hand climb, requiring the use of a rope, but I must say that I had only a vague idea of what to expect until the route was pointed out to us from an elevated point of view on the way to our starting point this morning. I looked and thought it wasn't possible ... surely we weren't meant to take that way! It looked far to steep.

I suddenly began to doubt being able to make it, knowing it would be extremely demanding and difficult and I got a very strange feeling in my stomach, somewhere between excitement and anxiety. Then again, I knew that our guide wouldn't take us there if he thought we wouldn't be able to make it, so I decided to stop worrying and just hang in there.

We had to descent for quite a while at first, going down a deep gorge, only to make the stiffest climb up again after we reached the bottom. Ascending on the other side we came across several memorial stones and crosses, reminiscent of those mountaineers who weren't quite so lucky - something I didn't find exactly reassuring to say the least.

When we left the marked trail, the path became so narrow that I thought I might lose my balance if I ever stopped putting one foot in front of the other, so I just kept moving in a slow but constant rhythm instead. The higher we got the less keen I actually felt to stop anyway – a brief glance to my right had clearly presented the deepest ravine and sharpest hillside I had walked along so far, going straight down a few hundred metres right beside my feet and I sure didn't want to explore that any further, feeling not so sure about having overcome my acrophobia, my fear of heights. I knew I would start to feel giddy the moment I looked down so I chose to stare ahead instead, trying to divert my thoughts, taking them off any unwanted speculation about possible unpleasant occurrences, which wasn't an easy task at all, blessed as I am with a rather vivid imagination. I'm fascinated by depths just about as much as I am afraid of them, which might just prove that attraction and aversion are never far apart.

Anyway, if you want to have a fair impression of me climbing that mountain, just imagine a somewhat wispy being in short trousers and heavy mountain boots with a rather tense (but pretty obstinate) facial expression, clinging to a rope so tightly that her knuckles start to turn white while her head turns pink in a vigorous effort to make it to the summit and down again ...

That trail was really wild, disappearing into nothingness every now and then, forcing us to cross rather profound chasms with giant strides (those with shorter legs were clearly at a disadvantage ...). Those crevices seemed to be bottomless and I definitely knew why that guy at the lodge had called this route 'spooky'! For once, none of us had much of an eye for the beautiful landscapes all around us, being far too concentrated, focusing on nothing but the way in front of our feet. Also we were far too exhausted by then, only wanting to 'get there'.

When we reached our arrival point in the late afternoon I felt I had gone to my very limits, physically as well as mentally. I will not say that it didn't feel good, it did, very much so, but it was so very hard to go through with it.

We all needed time for contemplation, coming to terms with our own achievement. Every single one of us may have had his or her own doubts or worries in the beginning and yet we all made it, going straight forward instead of backing out, facing and fighting our very own demons, literally going to 'the places that scare us'.

Slowly recovering from the physical effort we started to joke and laugh again, talking about how everyone of us had his own way of coping with the givens of such a tour. Of course there were jokes again about me and my presumed fear of heights, the others telling me that I surely always remain ahead of my fear if I keep on hiking at my speed. I asked the guide whether they were right, if I was too lightheaded, bringing myself into danger by walking too fast but he reassured me that I seemed cautious and sure-footed enough to him, not like bringing myself into unnecessary danger and also never loosing touch with the group which was important from his point of view. He also said that of course we would have to walk or climb differently if ever we got into bad weather, that it couldn't be compared to how it was today and that certainly we all needed more experience until we were able to evaluate our own abilities in a realistic way regarding certain situations. I think it also makes a big difference if you make such a tour on your own or with a guide. In our group of eight I think there is only one experienced enough to make it on his own or even lead others. Well, - I will not give up, I will come back to the mountains, learning and making my experiences, one by one, in my own time, not hurrying it or putting myself under pressure.

But that will have to wait, because now - unfortunately - it's more or less time to go home, back to Germany. Tomorrow we will need a rest after this challenging climb today, planning a little 'relaxation walk' to a nearby village only. Coming back here it will be time to pack and prepare for the journey home the following morning. I will go by car instead of flying back, which means a drive of 10 hours. Somehow it will be more natural to see the landscape changing slowly, it always seems a bit abrupt to me, arriving somewhere by plane. Of course it's pretty comfortable and also there are distances one can't make in a car in time, but still ... it's strange and somewhat unnatural I think.

I'll say goodbye from Austria here. Of course I am sad to leave but I see it more relaxed now than a few days ago. I have had such a wonderful time here and I don't want to spoil it by becoming sad or depressed in any way. I want to keep all my lovely experiences in my memory without any bad thoughts diluting them. I have grown so fond of the mountains and of the people here. Most of them I have not known when I arrived and now we depart as friends. We got along just great and have had such a lot of fun and wonderful experiences together, from the very beginning it felt as if we had known each other for years. It's extremely unusual for me to open up to a group of strangers like that, to trust them and feel so much at ease, so comfortable with them. But I did here. Another new but lovely experience I am grateful for.

So, this is it. I hope I didn't bore you too much. But then again: you had a choice, didn't you?
Anyway, thanks to anyone who took the time to read and follow my 'adventures' up here in the mountains!

Servus and Grüaß Euch
(Austrian greeting)

Bliss …

I know this might just start to sound boring … but it's been another beautiful day today, going for another wonderful hike up a mountain called Gerzkopf. The Gerzkopf area is a Nature Reserve, a really unique landscape of high-elevation spruce forests, bog forests and mires. The raised bog areas up on top of the mountain are especially impressive: all covered with low shrubs like mountain pine, blueberries and heather, the summit offers a 360° panoramic view of the surrounding mountain ranges, their highest peaks being reflected in the waters of the so-called Schwarze Lacke (black lakes) on the very top of it, lying there like huge oval mirrors in the middle of the marshland. The scent of the mountain pine is so intense in the sun, it smells like somebody ran a giant bath filled with pine needle bubble bath, absolutely overwhelming. Somehow all scents seem to be intensified in this clear clean mountain air. Or maybe it's just that all sensorial perceptions are intensified up here, I don't know. The view again was breathtaking beyond description. Again, taking it all in, I felt so aware of the presence of something, something divine, beyond all this beauty … whatever one wants to call it … creation, God, some kind of universal energy. Grace. Peace. All-embracing love. I have no words for it. But it's pure, strong presence fills me with energy and a deep gratitude for this life.

On our way down we stopped at a sheperd's hut, contemplating the sounds of nature and the somewhat 'boisterous quietness' of the mountains with Bernhard, the shepherd, sitting in between sheep instead of cows for a change. The trail leading downwards was a narrow footpath leading through most bizzare woods and moorland, looking strangely unreal, like some kind of enchanted wonderland. I could have gone on and on, forever walking under these tangly trees, breathing this aromatic air, picking blueberries and cranberries, raspberries and mushrooms, forgetting time and space like a lost child in one of the Grimm's fairy tales.

Coming back to the lodge after this most impressive walking-tour I needed to be by myself. I went down to the brook, trying to collect my thoughts, considering the wonder and beauty of all I have seen and experienced over these past few days. It is all so overwhelming if you're really attentive to what's there around you. One has to walk with the eyes wide open, mindful to the beauty of the world, trying to see everything that is there. We tend to become blind to what is around us too easily, getting used to things, taking them for granted instead of being aware of the small wonders of the world. Seeing the young in the old, the rich in the poor, the beauty in the plain. Sitting there by the water I felt like I was about to burst with happiness, unable to speak about it, unable to share with the others for fear of not finding the right words, as if trying to talk about it might break the charm, spoil the bliss. I felt so close to the group, so much at ease in their company and at the same time totally detached and separate. It was a positive feeling though. Very strange.

Later we went to spend the evening at a friend's place in a tiny village nearby, dining outside, against the terrific backdrop of the sun setting over the Dachstein mountain range. What a view – and yet it was only the 'prelude' to the real sensation to come: the cloudless starry sky! As everything else up here it was just immense. We had a new moon only a couple of days ago so the night was quite dark, making even the most nondescript stars shine brightly. Such a huge amount of stars, I felt all giddy looking up, like my head was spinning, like everything was in motion, like the sky was about to explode. The Milky Way was so clearly visible, it really looked like a broad road paved with diamonds.

I couldn't stop looking at this sky. I still can't. Sitting here on my little balcony in the immense darkness of the mountains, writing by the light of a single candle, I can hear the bats flying by. They are almost noiseless except for the high pitched sound they make every now and then, catching moths or midges, mere silhouettes against the vast blackness of the sky. I think of my friends and loved ones … and as if to acknowledge these thoughts, two shooting stars come down right in front of me, like some celestial sign or greeting … what a night! Those countless, silent stars, orchestrated by the neverending brawl of the brook flowing beneath, reflecting the starlight in it's water.

I try to store all this somewhere deep inside myself, to take it with me when I leave, filling me with peace and quiet energy when I'm back to the bleak prospects of the city. I wish I could forever fill my heart with this beauty, make it immune to the dark thoughts, the grief, the panic eventually arising back home.

Fear my coming sadness … fill my heart with gladness …

Life in the mountains

Today I am going to tell you a little bit about the place where I'm staying, the lodge, the people … in case you were already starting to wonder (I know I'm just so funny) …

The landlady here is quite an Austrian original, an old lady with white plaits laid neatly around her head. She is very nice, always concerned about everybody's well-being, though I must admit that I find it hard to understand her Austrian dialect. It sounds rather like a foreign language than any kind of German to me. Since I am the only one who has never been to Austria before, the others will kindly 'translate' for me … as you may imagine I am a little suspicious of their translations though – they are definitely having me on whenever they start to look real grave and serious!

During the snow-season this is a lodge for skiers and other winter sport enthusiasts while in summer this place is more or less deserted. Mainly it is a farmstead, very modest and simple. One could well call it the total opposite of 'fancy'. Everything is a little bit shabby and not very clean and yet it's really homey for some strange reason. Despite the hens walking in and out of the kitchen (dominated by a huge wood-fired stove that seems to be a relic from another century) and the smell of the stable clinging to everything in the house, despite the inevitable spiders and the myriads of flies that come with the cows, I actually feel pretty comfortable here, like having been here a hundred times before.

What really irritated me when I first arrived was the fact that there are only two toilets in the whole of the house and only one shower, occupied by about everybody. The family, the house guests, the daily visitors, hikers and hunters … and I'm afraid you can tell by the look of them as well. But then I have been using the so-called 'toilets' up on the mountain huts … they are what we call 'thunderboxes', more commonly known as 'backhouses' I think.
Well, whatever you call them, they are tiny wooden shacks with a heart-shaped hole in the door, looking kind of cute from a distance but once you enter them, they loose any charm whatsoever, consisting of nothing much but an incredible smell and a board with a hole over a cesspit. The luxury ones have toilet seats affixed to the wooden plank … not that it makes much of a difference smell-wise … what I mean to say is that – regarding the alternative – I do not find the sanitary circumstances in here quite so bad after all! Considering that all the water in the house comes freshly from a mountain spring, even the water used to flush the toilet, it almost starts to seem like profusion to me!

As you can see, life is quite basic here in the mountains. There is nothing that is not necessary and the few fancy things people own are extremely appreciated, not taken for granted the way they would be in the city. Like electricity. Like a flush toilet. Like hot water for a shower … something that is only ever enough for about two people a day, so you have to take turns in enjoying a hot shower after an exhausting hike. However sweaty and sore you feel, if it's not your turn you'll just have to settle for the ice cold spring water instead (or adhere to what they call 'an alpinist's aroma' up here …)

Yes, life is quite frugal. Some call it primitive but I think 'straightforward' is a better description. One thing depends on another. There's not much fuss made about life and it's circumstances. Life is more direct, more intuitive, people depend on nature and live in close communion with it. Animals are part of people's lifes here, they are not locked out, not separated from the people the way they are at home. Of course this also leads to a certain amount of dirt. You have animals walking in and out of the house all the time, no matter how often you chase them away. Hens, cats, cows, goats. And the insects they bring along. Flies, fleas, mites, I don't want to go into the details, my back starts to itch already … oh, and of course – as mentioned before – all this goes very well with the matching odour, escaping from the stable door, leading into the vestibule and the kitchen. Also these traditional houses are rather damp and dark with their low ceilings and tiny windows, so that there is a certain musty smell on everything.

It reminds me very much of my aunt's farm in the north of Germany where I loved to spend my holidays as a child … a peculiar smell that takes me back to the days of my childhood, playing in a kitchen that was also connected to a stable, with the same amount of flies everywhere around. It's the very same feeling, torn between a certain temporary disgust and a warm feeling of coziness … pure nostalgia …!

… contemplating cattle …

Another day of walking. Maybe not as intense as yesterday but even more exhausting in the long run. Most of our route lead through the burning sun and we were walking rather slow, steadily sloping upwards. The serpentine path seemed to be endlessly winding up. Every bend looked like the one before and I felt like we were moving in circles, walking the same stretch of way over and over again, without ever getting any further. However, at some point it became too hot for me to question what I was doing and I decided to just walk on, without thinking, trying to just be there, concentrating on my steps, my breathing and the sound of nature. Meditative walking. We went like that for five hours and nobody was talking much, sweating in silence. Kind of nice, after all.

Back at the lodge I made myself at home on the bench in front of the house, listening to the water and the crickets. It didn't take very long until I was surrounded by cattle again. These cows are quite curious, nosily inspecting everything new. One has to be careful and duck in time to avoid an ardent lick over the face … their rosy tongues are quite wet and maybe a tiny bit yucky when making sudden and unexpected contact with your skin. I get the impression that they just love salty, sweaty hikers after a long walk!
Have you ever really looked at a cow? I think they do not look stupid at all. They look peaceful, kind and indulgent, glancing somewhat knowingly at the world, almost wise. They have lovely eyelashes, long and silky, making them look kind of coy. How can anybody want to eat such a sweet thing …? The way they stood there beside me, munching away with that dreamy look in their big brown eyes, I felt almost ashamed, belonging to a species of 'beef-eaters' … I do not even eat meat myself and yet I felt like apologizing …

While I sat on that bench, contemplating cattle, I became aware that there are very few birds to be heard, neither at daybreak nor at nightfall. Isn't that strange? Maybe the local firs are just not very inviting to birds. Or maybe the birds are leaving earlier here in the mountains? I really wonder …

Kamplbrunn and the 'Fountain of Youth'

This is my first week in Austria. Everything is so much more beautiful than I ever expected. After arriving at Salzburg Airport last Wednesday the landscape became more and more beautiful with every kilometre we drove towards the Dachstein and Tennen mountain range. I'm staying in a lodge in a valley that looks like a scenery out of a 1950's technicolor movie, almost too idyllic to be true. The houses are built in the traditional austrian style, lots of dark wood and carvings and large balconies decorated with jardinières, overflowing with geranium and petunias. I have an attic room with a small balcony just for myself, overlooking large meadows and hills and a fantastic view of the Dachstein and Bischofsmütze. There is a mountain stream flowing beside the alley, it's riverbed almost dry now but you can tell by the size and depth of it and by the velocity and strength of even this little rivulet, how enormous it must be when the snow melts in spring. The babbling and brawling of this brook is a neverending noise, so constant that I do not really notice it anymore, lulling me to sleep at night and waking me in the early hours of the morning. Yet it's the most calming of sounds when I sit by the riverbed, listening consciously.

The valley is full of horses, cattle and sheep, grazing wherever they want, loose and free of any fences. More often than not the cows will decide to go for a short rest and settle down right in the middle of the small alley, causing cars and everybody else to either wait patiently or get out and shoo them away. They are wearing bells around their necks and their ringing is another constant in this landscape, together with the wind and the crickets. Apart from that there is an all-embracing silence, rarely broken by the sound of an odd agricultural vehicle or a human voice. Going up into the mountains it's even more quiet, but noises differ nonetheless. I heard the marmots whistle, surprisingly loud, the sound – as every noise – being echoed and amplified by the scarps. Climbing even higher you're in complete silence except for the wind and the occasional hissing noise of debris sliding down the scree fields, often indicating a small herd of chamois, which are simply astonishing to look at, climbing the steepest crags without any visible sign of effort.

We decided to climb a crest called 'Kamplbrunn' today, with a summit height of about 2,200 metres (7,200 ft.). It's name derives from a natural spring, that is – according to an old celtic legend – a 'fountain of youth', rejuvenating anybody who drinks from it's water. Unfortunately though, we never found this mystic spring, so I can neither negate nor affirm it's fabulous virtues ..! What I found instead – to my immense surprise – were Nepalese prayer flags, tied to the cross on the summit. I found this rather amazing until a local woman told me that there are Nepali mountaineers at a nearby alpine hut, placing their prayer flags on certain summits. I must say that I rather like the way they attach them to the traditional summit crosses, creating an unusual blend of christian and buddhist symbols.

After several days of merely hiking from hut to hut on marked trails, 'Kamplbrunn' was to become my first real 'mountaineering' tour, although we hadn't really planned that way. We were starting out with a group of six people modestly aiming for a snack at an alpine hut, but getting there in less than two hours most of us wanted to continue. After talking to our guide we split up, two women walked on to another hut, planning to wait for the rest of us to join them after descending from 'Kamplbrunn'. When the trail became steeper and steeper the two guys also decided to revert to the lodge, so that it was just me and the guide going on up. The trail became really steep and I couldn't make out any kind of footpath anymore, pulling me up with my hands while searching for some kind of hold with my feet. I could feel my heart pounding like mad and my legs getting weak. There was a moment when I thought I wouldn't make it until the guide told me we were almost there and that I would soon be rewarded for my effort. And so I was!

The view from Kamplbrunn was breathtaking, overlooking a huge part of the Northern Limestone Alps and Central Eastern Alps with their higher peaks going up to 4,000 metres (13,000 ft). For as far as I could see, there were mountains, mountains and more mountains, what a sight, what a feeling! It was pretty windy, narrow and slippery up there and I didn't trust myself in having really overcome my usual fear of heights, so I preferred to sit down beneath the prayer flags, cross-legged and silent, absorbing the beauty of everything around me. As if reading my thoughts the guide took off and sat quietly on a rock in the background without ever disturbing my silent dialogue with life and nature, the earth … the universe … It was such an overwhelming moment, all alone under that enormous sky, surrounded by nothing but mountains and stillness. Right behind me I could see the 'Bischofsmütze' (which means 'Bishop's mitre' – and that's what it looks like), to my left was a glacier, reflecting the sunlight and the blue of the sky while another snow-covered mountain was gleaming red with some kind of minerals. In front of me there was a deep crevice in the rock, making me feel kind of giddy looking down … and quite happy to to be seated firmly on the ground!

In the end I had to stand up and face the fact that I couldn't stay there forever. Preparing for the descend I was a bit worried, having been told before that it's easier to go up than down a steep slope. I didn't like the idea of having to face the depth but the guide told me to concentrate on what was right in front of me, concentrating on the path in front of my foot only, avoiding to look anywhere else. What can I say, I made it … with slightly strained knees maybe, but surprisingly sure of step and light of heart! Quite happy that I neither slipped nor stumbled I reached the others at the lodge, welcoming me in disbelief, never expecting I would actually make it all the way to the top …
Despite my usual discomfort at being praised by anybody, I must admit that I felt rather proud when the guide told me it was hard to believe I was the most inexperienced of the group, telling me I seem to have 'a natural feeling' for the mountains, moving skilfully and prudent like a 'mountain goat'. He also said that he didn't get the impression I was suffering from any kind of acrophobia, but that it's probably all in my head, that it's quite natural to feel a certain giddyness looking up or down extreme heights if I am not used to them and that it will get better with experience. He always tells people NOT to look down when crossing a narrow ridge or trail because most people only start to feel a fear of height once they start thinking about it, causing them to be inattentive or become insecure, prone to stumble or loose their balance. As long as one concentrates on the way only, thinking of nothing but what is ahead and necessary, everything would be fine. Well, so much to that. We'll see in how far he's right on one of our next ventures I guess …

Oh, what a day! Coming back here to the lodge, into my room, I felt physically exhausted but mentally quite alert, excited and peaceful, all at the same time. I guess any experienced mountain hiker or climber will read all this with either an amused or a condescending smile … but to me it's all new and exciting, so please – be indulgent to my childlike enthusiasm …!

Anything is one of a million paths …

(un camino entre cantidades de caminos)

... Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, and yourself alone the question, "Does this path have a heart?" If it does, the path is good. If it doesn't, it is of no use.

Carlos Castaneda, 'The Teachings of Don Juan'

Ready to leave ...

Finished! I think I got everything done. I packed for the weekend and what I need for Austria next week and now I'm technically ready to leave but I decided I'll wait until tomorrow morning, get up early and take off then. Somehow the idea of driving into the rainy night and being for several hours on the road is not really inviting. And I know myself. The possibility of the attic being under water won't let me rest. I'll go up there as soon as I arrive and whatever I find might just keep me from sleeping. Again. And I feel I could do with a little rest.

I have had a whole week now to consider this roof problem and I didn't come up with a solution. I got used to the thought, the panic left and what remains is a slight feeling of unease. I have spent whole days looking for answers but in the end I had to accept that there is definitely not a lot I can do about the whole thing. I can either go mad while it rains in the attic or I can let it rain inside, trying to remain calm. The effect will be the same. Wet. So I think I'll just opt for the second. With going to Austria for the rest of the month I have to leave the roof behind anyway and shouldn't charge my mind with thinking too much of what might happen. When I get there tomorrow I'll see if things turned any worse over the week I've been away and I'll fix what I can (buckets and plastic sheet ..) but that's it. I can not avoid this problem for long, with autumn and winter ahead I sure have to get the roof repaired, no matter what. I guess the only way is to apply for a mortgage, just I'm not so sure the bank will cooperate. After all, the house is in desolate condition and not of much value for the bank. But again, I'll wait until next month before I start worrying. Wish me luck in remaining calm over the weekend, whatever awaits me there. I hope to be able to go to Austria without worrying all the time …

So that's it for the time being. I'll be back at the end of August (if I do not fall off a mountain).

(Can you believe … this is all I'm gonna take with me for a fortnight in the mountains ... I want to avoid having to check in luggage, it steals so much time waiting for that stuff after arrival. I love to travel light …)

Take care, all of you out there!

Midday musing

Let's face it, I'm pretty confused today. Even more than usual. It started with waking up at a time when I'm normally about to have lunch. I opened my eyes and found myself at a complete loss for orientation. It took several seconds (seemingly minutes) until I finally realized that no, I had not overslept and I was not meant to work today (insert sigh of relief here). It was Friday morning (well, quasi) and I've been attending a concert by Uruguay based band 'La Vela Puerca' yesterday night, which obviously ended in staying a bit late after the show, contemplating life, age and people with a friend and some strangers. And, well ... staring for hours at the most awesome face I have seen in years! Just to avoid confusion: not the awful kind of awesome but awesome as in fascinating, almost supernatural. A combination of a very young Sofia Loren and a classic russian ballerina. I simply couldn't stop looking at so much beauty and grace, radiating pure elegance, emphasized even more by the fact that all this seemed strangely out of place in this crowd of ska devotees. And no, I'm not gay. But I might admit to a slight homoamorous tendency, which is NOT about sexual attraction though. Sometimes I'm fascinated by somebody and whatever it is that attracts me to this person, it's certainly not dependent on them being either male or female. Maybe I'm some kind of 'asexual bisexual', if there is any such thing. If not, we'll have to invent it ...

However. It was about half three when I finally got home, realizing that my answering machine flashed like mad, indicating that it was about to burst with messages. Which is pretty unusual. Deciding to relieve the poor thing I started to scan the messages, finding they were more or less all from my sister. I hadn't checked the messages all week, I really forgot (as usual). Okay, so my sister's voice talked on and on, telling me at last (about half an hour later) that she had sent me an e-mail this very night and that she expected me to go read it IMMEDIATELY. Now, this more than surprised me. Between one thing and another my sister isn't really the kind of person you'd imagine in front of a computer screen. And from what I know she's not actually much of a writer. Unlike me she's a passionate telephone user (avoiding the word 'addict' here).
Well, she really got me curious and despite the time I couldn't help but turn on the Mac and check out this mysterious e-mail. What can I say ... what I found certainly made my day (or night in this case). My sister had actually written an account of our recent walking-tour in the Volcanic Eifel. Slowly recovering from the shocking fact that she had even managed to produce a Word document and attach it to the mail (when did she learn these advanced techniques?), I opened this miraculous thing ... and almost immediately went into side-splitting laughter. The way she pictured our walking experience made me almost roll on the floor and before I was finished with the first page I had tears of laughter streaming down my face, which was already starting to hurt with the unaccustomed use of all those normally idle muscles. I really laughed so hard that my whole body hurt afterwards. The next door neighbour must have thought I was finally going bonkers, coming home in the early hours of the day, cracking with laughter all alone in the apartment. I had no idea my sister was such a gifted writer. That story was so hilarious, so riproaringly funny, really like one of David Sedaris' essays. Maybe she should be the one blogging. Maybe I should encourage her to write more, it's such a waste of talent if she doesn't.

So. That's what kept me up last night, causing me to sleep till all hours, waking up disoriented and being in a bit of time pressure now. Because. What I'm really meant to do is prepare for leaving. In a doubled sense. I have to pack and prepare to go south, to check on my 'dear little ruin of a house', emptying water buckets and do likewise pleasant stuff and also I have to pack and prepare to go to Austria as soon as I'm back. And what do I do instead? Find myself blogging again. This really has to stop, it can't go on like this. Look, it's almost four o'clock and I still haven't done anything useful. I have to empty the washing machine, do the dish washing, get organized. I have to make a list of things to take with me for the weekend. Another list of things for Austria. Actually I'll also have to pack the things for Austria before I leave because there'll be no time to spare, being home on Monday and leaving again on Tuesday. I'm so very undisciplined. This weather is so paralysing, grey, cold and rainy. Blue Wren might just like it, unfortunately I don't. It makes my joints ache and my brain go slow. I can't think and I can't plan. Ah, it's pointless, I'll have to start. I will. Now. Promise ...

I've been tagged ... what next?

Everyday something new to learn - I'm not sure I'll ever catch up on all these blogging terms and 'rituals' ...

After having been decidedly (and successfully) introduced to the world of the meme last week, making me believe I was off the hook for the time being, I came home today to find I've been tagged. Or is it 'tapped'? Anyway, Blue Wren invited me to 'play' and I'm not quite sure whether "thank you" is the adequate answer, when in fact I feel a wee bit, well, confused about this new challenge ... Do you have some kind of secret agreement, trying out what it takes to make me uneasy? Just kiddin' ... but still. I really don't know about this one.

Five weird things about me? Are you serious? I'm not sure whether I'll come up with either far too many to name them or having to make some up in the end, for lack of real life quirks ... Let me think ... maybe I should be spontaneous about this one ... what is weird about me ...

... (brooding) ...

Okay, here's one thing for a start:
I have this habit of walking in the dark. I really like it. Both inside and outside the house. I have been going for nightly walks in our local forest for years. I would wander through the wood, memorizing every branch of the way, every turn and every shortcut until I knew where to raise my feet to avoid stumbling over a certain root or where to leave the way to avoid the mud after a period of rain. I didn't have to see, I just knew my way, walking confident and sure of step. This went so far, that after some time I actually had problems to find my way in the wood at daytime. I knew what a certain tree looked like in the moonlight, how it's outline resembled an indian chief on a horse, but I never recognised this tree and the left turn it indicated when I went there for an afternoon walk. I also have this habit of walking around inside the house at night, without ever turning on the light. I like to get a feeling for the distances, for the whereabouts of things, without having to see them. So I might get up at night, feeling thirsty, go into the kitchen and fetch myself a drink, all in complete darkness. Like a vampire ... Mostly this works just fine. Sometimes I hurt my toes real bad though, not taking movable objects into account. And recently I had to discover that 'Aceto balsamico' isn't a good choice when really desperate for a drink at night ...

And while writing this, I came up with another one, here's No. 2:
Some of my friends find it actually a bit weird that I manage to spend whole afternoons in DIY stores, strolling through shelves full of tools, fittings, wood, mountings, tiles and other useful stuff. Myself I really can not see anything weird in this and frequently wonder what's so strange about the fact that actually I do not only like to look at all the above mentioned stuff but in fact enjoy working with it even more. I like plastering walls, tiling, building, whatever. Even installing the underfloor heating system. No guts no glory, girls.

I gotta think about No. 3 for a moment ... oh, right:
I absolutely NEVER enter the inside of a taxi. I conceive a deep abhorrence for taxi cabs, don't know why. I find it highly unnatural to be sitting next to a complete stranger for one thing (you're not expected to sit in the back seat of a taxi in Germany), talking trifle and exchanging insignificant information about traffic and the weather in an atmosphere of anonymity and time pressure. I also have this inexplicable feeling of the situation being somehow improper. It's really beyond rational explanation, I just can't do it. I'll rather walk five or six miles instead.

Here's No. 4:
I have a thing with the smell of books. I always sniff at them first, even before looking at the content. I really don't like books that have a musty or niffy smell on them. Did you know that an English or American book for example smells distinctly different from a German book? I think it has to do with the kind of paper that is used, or the bleaching of the paper, or maybe whether it's coated or uncoated paper. However, there's a certain smell of paper that I really love and it's pure bliss if I discover a book that combines an interesting content with a beautiful cover and this certain 'scent'. It'll sure become one of my favourites ...

And finally ...No. 5!!
I absolutely and tremendously loathe moths. Not the small ones but anything from the size of a small butterfly upwards. You know, that furry kind of moths with real chubby bodies, that leave yucky, kind of powdery, black marks on everything they touch? They have this really hectic, uncoordinated way of flying, very different from a normal butterfly. Ugh, I hate to admit it, but I absolutely detest them and I almost freak out when I have one inside my room. Since I still cannot kill them (not out of fear - out of pity!) I have a real problem. It's some kind of phobia. I would rather spend the night sleeping on the kitchen floor than putting a foot inside a room with a big black furry moth in it. Apart from that I have no problem with other insects (despite being allergic to insect stings I really don't bother much).

Now, isn't this weird!?

Hola Chris ...

¡Hola Chris, mi amiga maravillosa! Muchísimas gracias por (¿was heißt eigentlich "zuhören" auf spanisch?) ... Here I'm already lost for words with my poor spanish! Hab' gar nicht gemerkt, wie spät es schon war, als ich gegangen bin, thank you so much, fühl' mich trotz allem irgendwie besser ... muchos saludos y un beso fuerte ...

¡Aprovecha el día!

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Here's one for you today (to practice your english ...)

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.

(George Eliot)

A man of peace ...

A man of peace is not a pacifist; a man of peace is simply a pool of silence.

He pulsates a new kind of energy into the world. He sings a new song. He lives in a totally new way. His very way of life is that of grace, that of prayer, that of compassion. Whomsoever he touches, he creates more love energy.

The man of peace is creative. He is not against war, because to be against anything is to be at war. He is not against war; he simply understands why war exists. And out of that understanding he becomes peaceful. Only when there are many people who are pools of peace, silence, understanding, will war disappear.

(Osho)

The 'Just About Average' Meme

Okay, I got the message! Thank you Dearmeid for enlightening me on the mysteries of the 'meme'. I must admit that I still don't see the way those memes are used here as doing the initial meaning justice, but however, I filled in the one you sent me, here it is. Hope you appreciate it - the thing took me two hours to complete because I wanted to be really thorough.

Well, it's about time to leave this 'rotten' place, leave the buckets to themselves and pray for the roof to remain in place. While I prepare for my three hours drive, here you have something to read (and don't dare telling me I'm not being personal enough ...)


Lillebroers 'Just About Average' Meme

• Three pastimes that make you feel really good...
- watching clouds and stars, listening to nature's sounds, walking & wandering.


• How would your friends describe you on a good day?
- loyal/faithful, helpful, witty, imaginative, sympathetic, reliable.


• ... and on a bad day ..?
- impatient, nerdy, iffy, prejudiced, moody, reserved, smart-assed.


• What are you reading at the moment?
- I could read the sky/Timothy O'Grady, Moment by Moment/Jerry Braza.


• Are you terrified of spiders?
- No, but of big furry moths. Nasty!


• What would you do with one million dollars?
- Repair my house..? - Quit work and travel, I guess, spending my life wondering ...


• Is there something you really loathe?
- waste of any kind, injustice, betrayal, ruthlessness, greed.


• What is the average amount of money you spend each day?
- As much as necessary and as little as possible.


• When have you been heartbroken for the last time?
- literally heartbroken? As in 'falling out of love'? Ages ago.


• If you could choose any place in the world, where would you live?
- wherever I can feel at home and at ease, not one specified place.


• What time do you normally go to bed/get up?
- go to bed at around 1 a.m. Often later. Get up at about 8 a.m


• What do you typically eat for breakfast?
- Eat..? I have a tiny glass of café cortado and maybe a banana. Sorry. Not very healthy, I know.


• Who has been the biggest influence on your life?
- My grandfather, 'Opa Daddy'.


• What was your first car?
- A bright orange 1975 Citroën 2CV with flower patterned seats and Jim Morrison's silhouette on the boot panel.


• And your favourite song to blast while driving it?
- Janis Joplin's 'Bobby McGee' and Melanie's 'What Have They Done To My Song, Ma?'


• Who was the first male actor you have ever fancied?
- Gregory Peck in 'The Yearling' and Michael Landon as 'Little Joe' when I was about eight.


• What colour are your bedroom walls painted?
- A shade I would desribe as dark cornflower blue, very spirit-soothing.


• What size is the last pair of jeans you've bought?
- I don't know. 27/32 or 28/32 maybe.


• As a kid, what did you want to be when you grow up?
- A ballet dancer. But my spine dissented at age 14 so I decided to become a designer instead.


• Which foreign language would you like to master?
- I wish I had never given up Gaelic, it's a beautiful language but a bit out of use... Apart from that, Spanish.


• Who do you think is the most attractive male celeb of our time?
- I kind of like Keanu Reeves, Kevin Spacey, Michael Stipe, Billy Crudup, John Malkovich. Oh, I forgot one: the German football goalkeeper, Jens Lehmann.
There's also some females I find rather attractive, like Scarlett Johansson, Julianne Moore, Nastassia Kinski and Christy Turlington ... what they have in common, I have no clue.


• What's your favourite piece of jewelry?
- I don't really wear any jewellery except for my claddagh ring. I got it in 1988 and I'm afraid it's about to disintegrate...


• High heels or sneakers?
- neither nor. I like 'chaplinesque' vintage kind of boots. Or Havaianas. Or going barefoot.


• Is there a sex symbol that leaves you totally cold?
- Brad Pitt


• What attracts you in the opposite sex?
- mainly: charisma, personality, thoughtfulness, sensitivity, profoundness, kindness, humour.
what helps: a certain smile, dimples, a warm complexion, a touch of freckles, a firm handshake and walking step, a height between 5'7 and 6'2, warm eyes, nice hands, defined cheekbones, a slight melancholy, and, and, and... ;-).


• What do you believe in?
- kindness


• Your favourite food or dish?
- vegetables, fruit, cheese. As a dish, Palak Paneer.


• What's your signature scent?
- it used to be 'Yvresse' but I don't really use any perfume these days - so most likely it will be Lactovit bodylotion ... very unexciting.


• Who's your favourite artist?
- Andy Goldsworthy! And others from all different eras.


• Who were the idols of your childhood?
- Pippi Longstocking, Catweazle, Sandy Ricks (of the TV Series 'Flipper'), Mr. Rossi (Signor Rossi)


• Is there an invention you could do without?
- Telephone and TV

Rotten roof - good for fitness!

Well, here I am again, still clueless concerning the wretched roof. What can I do, anyway? When the staircase broke last year, I could just live with it, fixing it for as long as it will last (prepared to put up a ladder once the stairs come down completely) while trying to save up the money for a new staircase in the meantime. The sum I will need for the staircase seemed to be such a huge amount already, when it was in fact just about one quarter of this new cost for the roof.
All this seems so abstract to me that I'm not really able to carefully consider the problem. Yet again, I find myself thinking, what is there to be considered? The money just isn't there, that's a fact that will not change overnight. And it will not be there next month or at the end of the year or whenever. It's a sum that is totally out of reach for me from what I know now.

At least the rain has stopped temporarily. Going up to the attic all the time, checking buckets, can be pretty unnerving. I keep thinking of how ironic it would be, if the staircase chose to break completely with me carrying all those buckets down now. I would have a real problem then ... so am I not just lucky things are still the way they are?

All I can do right now is accepting the very fact that there's nothing I can do except maybe, trying to make sure the damage isn't getting any worse. Sure things won't get any better if I panic. I'll have to go through all possible options and see what can be done. For now the buckets will just have to do ... while writing this I had the idea that I might go and buy some of those plastic sheets that are used to cover floors while painting or decorating. Maybe that prevents the wet from soaking through to the rooms below.

And see the positive aspect in this ... going up and down the stairs all day is a good way to keep fit, now that the weather outside isn't really encouraging a good walk..!

The dubious pleasures of property ... and the rain.

This German weather is just unreal. After the unusual heat of the last months, it now seems like we're back to early April or something. It has been raining like mad for at least 48 hours. Days seem endless and I'm loosing any track of time. Outside everything seems to be under water, the wind is still unbelievable and every now and then the rain turns into heavy hail. Frightening but also fascinating.

I sit in my house and I actually have a fire on in the stove. What a strange summer, from one extreme to another. I came here after a neighbour phoned to say that my roof had been damaged. Slowly it feels like this house is just about to collapse right on top of me. Everything makes the strangest noises, squeaking and creaking like in an old horror movie. The storm has broken many roof tiles and now the rain is coming into the attic, seeping through the floorboards, drenching the bedroom ceiling. I put up a whole lot of buckets and a baby bath tub to catch the rain and hope this will do for the moment. I've already phoned the local roof tilers to have them take a look and hopefully repair the damage. They'll come over any time now, or so I hope, meanwhile I'm waiting, staring out into the rain, writing, listening to all the dripping, high and low.
It's such a melancholic mood outside, slow and tranquil, timeless. I like it and I dislike it at the same time. Looking out I wish I could be in the garden. I'm trying to sweet-talk the raingods into a short break but don't seem to be successfull in my attempts. Which means I have to go out and get wet, fetching more firewood from the shed. I mean, it's not like it's really that cold in here, but it's damp and kind of chilly and anyway, I really like the noise of the sizzling fire, the crackling sound of the red-hot logs turning into charcoal, looking like they're breathing and alive.

This place might be cosy if it wasn't for the overall condition of the house. It's in a really bad state. Nobody I know would want to stay here and still I like it. I have this dream of restoring it, making it a more welcoming and friendly place. Which it unfortunately isn't by any means right now.
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Well, the roof guy left and I've been walking through the house like a ghost, talking to myself, for the last half hour or so. I'm still kind of paralyzed by what he told me and can't think straight. I guess this might be one of the rare occasions where I feel like making a phone call to get rid of the tangle of words inside my head, but since I do not have a phone here and don't actually feel like walking all the way up to my aunt's place, this will just have to do.
Looks like it's been an absurd idea, assuming I'll ever manage to maintain this ruin of a house. As usual I seem to have been too naive, carried away by wishful thinking. I wasn't aware of how soon the condition of the house might get worse and how much money it takes to mend things.
The roof guy was pretty shocked too, but unfortunately not by the damage caused by the storm. He said that were minor repairs compared to the overall condition of the roof. The worst thing seems to be that the roof is so derelict that it's probably impossible to repair the new damage without causing the rest of the roof to come down. The tiles are too old and the wood construction is partly rotten so they will not take the risk of walking around on it. I asked him about the costs for all necessary repairs but he said he couldn't be precise without a carpenter inspecting the beams and laths first, that it was hard to say how much of the wood needed to be replaced. He would estimate the costs to be between 5.000 and 8.000 Euros if the roof truss was more or less o.k and didn't need complete renewal, which might easily double the costs. What he actually said was that I was "lucky" the roof is rather small, which would keep the price within reasonable limits. Reasonable limits, talking of five to eight thousand Euros! I really had to swallow hard. If I didn't have this slight dislike of booze, I guess I might have just drowned the whole problem in alcohol. Instead I grabbed a chocolate bar (sure sign of panic) and started wandering up and down the house after the roof tiler left. And here I am now. Wondering about the fact that there are actually people out there who wouldn't find this in any way threatening. They'd probably be vexed for a moment, then make an appointment to have it fixed. Just like that.

Oh what a start into the weekend.