The magic lingers… I start writing and stop… I am still searching for words: carefully, cautiously, hardly believing that life can be so hear-breakingly beautiful at times… Legends, chivalry, childhood dreams… Scotland, England: highlanders, knights, clash of armor, bagpipe tunes, heather, cliffs towering over the sea, beacons in the night on an empty shore, sound of wind in the golden fields under golden sunshine, old castle ruins, new friends, laughter, spooky stories at the graveyard, intricate ornaments of Celtic crosses, white Tower of London, white sails on the river, night train across the country with the moon riding the clouded skies behind the window, a street festival in a gorgeous city, tartan wool, cries of seagulls… All of that and much more packed into one week. As my mind picks an image after image, like little jewels to be stored in the treasure chest of memory, the magic lingers…   

They say, whatever doesn't kill me, makes me stronger. True in most of the cases, I guess. The question is, do I really want to get THAT strong? Sure, being tough seems to be a useful thing: one can achieve a lot. Also, people tend to respect strong personalities. Respect. But are strong people loved? Are they offered a helping hand, and encouraging smile, a hug, a pat on a shoulder when things go wrong. Because, believe it or not, things go wrong with "strong" people as they do with anyone else. Are the "strong" ones allowed to break down and cry without utterly alarming their friends? That's why I cry alone. It's not pride - believe me! It's just because I know, only being alone I can cry my heart out. In any other case I'll start thinking, "ok, get a grip or yourself, or they'll be seriously worried." Being "tough" is a very lonely business. It was never a counscious choice, yet, once you chose that path it leads you on and on through life. People who are attracted to me are usually those who long for strength to help them through. They have little of their own, so they rely on others' Now comes the saddest part of it all. Most of the time the "strong" people find their happiness exactly in this kind of assymmetrical relationships (friendship or romance alike) - protecting, supporting, taking care of and so on. Not me! I can do that and do that well, but it drains me. Yet, the "tougher" you get the more difficult it becomes to find someone equal, or rather, someone who would see you as equal, won't be intimidated with whatever "strength" they see in you, would understand that "even heaven cries" as they sing in one of these songs on the radio nowadays. I just wish I would somehow loose this image of being "tough" and would be seen for what I am. Yes, I can go through a lot of stuff on my own, will survive, won't complain, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate an encouraging smile, a hug, a "let me help you and take care of you at least for a while" kind of attitude.

Haven't been here for a while. It's true that my blog turns out to be sad. It's just because I turn to writing when things get really bad. It's a way to spill out and neutralise the negative energy that burns me from inside and a way to process the troubles. To put things into words makes me understand them better. Thanks for all the comments by the way :-) You are a great source of support and wisdom. Much appretiated.

Anyways, I feel like easing the atmosphere after the last, the gloomiest and the most bitter post that I've got here. It's all fine :-) Life is back to normal again and I am doing just fine. Stay in touch... 

I wish I could hurt people who hurt me… Seriously… I wish I could hate them. To return somehow the pain they’ve caused me, to make them fully feel it – like I felt it; cry and gasp for air crouched in a dark corner – like I did. Wouldn’t it be fair? Why can’t I? I can be rough with people, I can try and purposively harm those I disapprove of, sometimes I feel outraged by some and I truly hate and curse them, but I cannot bring myself to curse the very few people in my life who’ve seriously hurt me. Why?

I guess because you can’t really hurt me unless you’re very dear to me. I am usually well protected and don’t let my guard down easily. And then it happens I gasp with pain and wish I could hit back. I can’t… I close my eyes and clench my teeth. Doesn’t matter, let it pass, put up a face, fake a smile. I’m hiding my tears not because I’m too proud to cry, but because I don’t want to upset people who made my cry. Isn’t that pathetic? I don’t think they ever know how much they hurt me – these very few, very exceptional people in my life. Why don’t I let them know? Why?

I am an introvert. Surprised? Well, I guess there are just a few people who know me really well. I can be very social, easy-going, enjoying myself in a merry company; I am a good presenter and often a natural and effective leader. Yet I am an introvert and a very clear one. That means: people and events do not energize me. More than that, they can be quite tiring even draining after a while. It is the inner world where introverts get their energy from and I know it all too well. Here at IUB life is so intense and in a way exposed. I often get this feeling of being drained. The bad thing is that sometimes it accumulates slowly as a growing shadow in the back of my mind, but there is always stuff to do, student government issues that need to be addressed, something has to be discussed, coordinated, directed, someone asks for advice, a helping hand is needed, a friend invites you for a tea, there’s a birthday get-together, and we wanted to watch that movie, remember? And so on and so forth. But I need to slow down, to stop for a while, to be by myself ESPECIALLY if things are not too good in my life in general. Solitude is my medicine, not trying to have fun on a party to forget about my problems.

Sometimes it happens very suddenly – I realize that I need to cut off the whole world. Log off from the messengers, shut the door, turn off the lights, light some candles, play my guitar, play computer games, go for a lonely walk, lay on the campus green and stare into the sky, write a diary, write a story, watch a movie – alone. The peace, the balance, the strength to carry on, the healing that I need – all of it I can find in my inner world. For sure, I talk about my problems with my friends – no one can cope with everything on his or her own. I take their advice and appreciate their support. But that’s an “extreme emergency” measure. And even that has to work its effect through quiet solitude, through isolation and self-healing.

But even when things are not too bad, I still need to spend quite some time by myself and time is a precious resource here. So don’t be surprise if I withdraw for a while. That just means the “battery” is low and I am off to re-charge it. Just let me be. Mission “Self-Healing” is in progress.

I used to like this date. It’s one day after my mom’s birthday and also the birthday of one of my best friends. We used to sit at the same desk in high school. She is an unquenchable optimist. I bet our “high school gang” is going to meet at her place today – at least those who are in the city. Well, I am thousands of miles away, too bad for me… Luckily I have friends here too, who can help me coping with the 24^th of February.

I woke up this morning to bright sunshine and blue sky, with the happiness from yesterday still lingering on, especially as I folded up my precious new sari (oh, I felt like a princess wearing it, and I was treated like one – to receive such a present…) Yet, gradually the shadow of the past gets a grip of me. It happened three years ago, on a sunny day, just like today.

We were on a ski-mountaineering trip in Switzerland – a group of German friends (half of them mountain guides) and me. It was the last day: the last trip to the top of the mountain called Wengahon. The whole group was already on the top, waiting for me and my friend, who hanged back to be by my side – I am a very slow walker. Some 100 more meters and we’ll join them. Seeing us approaching and getting cold in the wind on the top, some of them decide not to wait any longer and start the last wonderful thrilling decent down the North-West slope. Being more to the South, I can’t see them over the “shoulder” of the mountain. First we have to get to the top and then follow them…

“Lavine!!!” – and we freeze where we are. Avalanche?!? Where? How comes? Impossible! There is no avalanche danger according to all forecasts. And we’ve got some experts on the team who know what they’re doing. And it is such a sunny day, amazing sunny day with a beautiful blue skies and gorgeous mountains all around us. It just cannot be! Or at least, it cannot be that bad… Well, it was bad. It was as bad as it could get. One of us never saw the sky again.

No, I haven’t seen the actual avalanche, nor the body of Bernd – only the closed coffin later on. But I’ve seen the faces of my friends. Sabine – his girlfriend – she was swept away by the cursed avalanche as well, but she was on the surface when the snow stopped. I’ve seen her face… He was taken to the hospital by a helicopter with a false hope for a miracle. After a day, when it was clear that the brain is dead, Sabine and Bernd’s parents had to tell the doctors to “switch him off.” His heart was beating, but that was all… Technically he died on 25^th. He was 30 years old.

Honestly, I didn’t really know him that well. I barely remember his face. It’s Sabine’s face that haunts me once a year, on 24^th of February. It’s the though of how fragile human life is. How suddenly and tragically it can come to an end. Someone you love is gone… Forever… Beyond any reach…

My second intersession at IUB I spent in a way that was very different from the first one, with one exception (well, two exceptions, but I won't tell you about the second one :-P) - I spent quite a lot of time in the library. It seems to work some sort of a strange winter magic on me. The silence, the huge glass wall, the bookshelves packed with wisdom, challenge, images of faraway lands and, occasionally, few books that I know and treasure,  the pale sky outside, the bare black branches of trees, the day slowly growing dim and the sunset and the dusk, the yellow lights springing up on campus, sometimes even snow - cautious and timid Bremen snow, circling in the air... There is so much space both for studying and daydreaming in winter library, strange as this blend may sound. Speaking about strange blends: there was this song by "Seal" - Kiss from a Rose - I've been listening often recently. You know, sometimes once particular song becomes your favorite and kind of sticks in your head. On the other hand, when I am getting tired of political science I switch to poems by Federico Garcia Lorca. I wish I could read him in Spanish. 

And here it comes, out of blue (hmm, in this case out of grey, that's just the color that fits this season, and one of my favorite colors btw.) - a poem, that is a pure plagiarism on "Seal" and influenced by Lorka's style. If you want to ruin my academic career you can report me :-D

 

What happens when you fall in love...

Oh, did you know

That the world has changed its shades and songs

And when it snows

My eyes are larger, and I see

The light you shine...