(And evening notes, from my notebook:
One thing I know: this always helps, even if I forget about it when I stand alone above the clouds, millions of miles from the closest star. Eons between me and the closest physical object. A chair, a window. Writing like this always helps. Now I sit for real in this couch, big notebook leaned against my knees and teacup against my stomach. It doesn’t necessarily make me understand, but one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead,)
3 hour waiting time
To register yourself in Germany. But, there was wifi. And now I can get a library card here.
★
Pinterest inspiration as of lately Pt. 11
From a sunny balcony, writing with friends
(I’ve been in a flow lately with writing on a story, but now I have to really make an effort to keep going with it instead of starting to think.)
Wednesday afternoon
My flatmate has since I moved in both bought me a pomegranate since that’s my favourite, and brought her “vetevärmare” from home to give me since she remembered I said I like those. Love language. Also I do not know how to say vetevärmare in english, like a heat pack thing? That you put in the microwave and use kind of like a hot water bottle, except that it has wheat in it. Or cherry seeds, in the one she brought me.
❉
(Art: A little dream of New York)
Germany
So, I moved to Germany to volounteer work at The White Rabbit Arts. It’s pretty nice here. Very german. Like really, I think I’ve only ever lived in really international communities, even when I’ve been abroad. So just being in a new country, in an apartment full of people who mainly speak german, is different. It’s like actually moving.
And so far I think that Germany is:
1. Warmer than Sweden. Not by much, but a little warmer.
2. Bigger. Obviously. Nürnberg is a pretty big city, and there’s just more people here in general, which means that you can walk down the street and find a random four story book store with a little café hidden inside. In Sweden that would go into bankruptcy within a week if it wasn’t in Stockholm or something.
3. More social. Slightly, at least? Once again, I quite like it.
So, here’s a collection of pictures, from the train station (interesting), my apartment and writing out my letters to the people who support my volounteer work.
Hugs in german to you✽
View
From my room in my shared apartment in Germany.
✽
Trainride
A few days ago I took a 20 hour train ride from my hometown in Sweden, to Nürnberg, Germany.
Some trains were full, some empty. The last train was from 4.30 til 9 in the morning, from Hamburg to Nürnberg, and that did not look like the picture below. It was overbooked, so I got woken up three times by people saying I was in their seat. In the end I sat in the corridor. But all in all, everything went well. All the connections worked and I didn’t get stuck in some random german small town in the middle of the night, which was my biggest fear to be honest.
And I managed to somehow fit my fluffiest duvet in my suitcase, which was really all that mattered. And now I guess I live here in Nürnberg. Like really live, since I have my duvet with me. Sheets and towels and even my fairy lights. My room is dreamy. I’ll show you sometime.
Good night.
✽
Some notes the internalized belief that we are not worthy.
My doubts about what I’m doing with my life are unhealthily dealt with by me creating a persona that I feel is allowed to do what it is that I want.
Because here’s the thing, maybe I would myself only support someone in my situation if they were far enough removed from me. If they were a fun artsy character that I could be amused by and get inspiration from. If they were “normal”, maybe from my village, a completely ordinary person, I would instead be slightly annoyed and feel that they shouldn’t be allowed to do that. My own internalized fear that I’m not allowed, fundamentally: jealousy. If they’re a character however, someone far enough removed from us, we don’t have to feel guilty about us not doing what we want with our lives.
We turn ourselves into the charicature of a role in order to gain some heavenly allowance to walk a certain path. Or other people’s allowance. Or our own allowance, since it’s our own belief about our insufficiency that we subconsciously push onto other people. And maybe I went the crazy artist route instead of the normal missionary one because it’s easier. Because my charicature of the slightly crazy, flighty artist is simple compared to my idolized charicature of missionary, a holy mix of some old school mother Theresa and present day social ball of sunshine, spotless and unattainable.
But the truth is: you’re allowed to remain an ordinary person while pursuing an extraordinary life. In fact, I think it’s absolutely essential.
eirians 