All posts by Rebecca Michelle

Educator, traveler, reader, blogger. Loves learning, black coffee, and friendly people.

Travel Guide: Quedlinburg

A very old, very dear friend came to visit, which is a rare occurrence in my life. We’ve met up in multiple countries over the last decade, based equally on where I’m living and where he’s travelling for work. This visit was particularly special because I was able to introduce my partner and show off where I plan to spend the next long while; it’s never been like that before.

In keeping with our mutual enjoyment of adventure, the three of us headed off Saturday morning for a night in Quedlinburg in the neighbouring state of Sachsen-Anhalt. The town is located in the Harz, which I’d heard about but never seen, and was an incredibly important medieval trading hub. It is also charmingly known for gatherings of witches. There are signs of former wealth all over town today, as evidenced by the castle, cathedral, and multiple churches.

I’ve been in many European cities of many sizes, but I have never seen anything quite like this. The half-timbered houses and other buildings were intricately designed, the brickwork in patterns . . .

. . . the lines of the buildings were not quite straight . . .

. . . and some of the homes were built for much smaller people than exist today. We noticed that a great many homes in the old town are now holiday apartments , seemingly owned by local people but a sign that, like many other places, the town no longer has the kind of life that it once did.

The multiple squares, for example, were a sure sign of the commerce and wealth that existed here . . .

. . . and alleys of varying sizes, including some so tiny that only one person fit through at a time, were a nod to the town’s over 1,000-year-old history.

As always, we climbed to the highest points, this time at the residential castle and the Münzenberg, an old mint, and looked down at the town and valley below.

I made a wish as I tossed a coin into the helpfully labelled wishing well . . .

. . . and delighted in signs of spring as two people I love laughed together.

We didn’t see any witches, but passed multiple shops with tarot cards and crystals; we spent the evening at a local brewery and tasted the offerings; we took shelter in driving rain, basked in the sun when it came out, and pulled our jackets tightly against the winter temperatures that had come to visit again.

Quedlinburg was a walk back through time, the delight of which was a treat to experience and a real pleasure to share. It didn’t take us more than our two half-days there to walk up every street and down every alley, and we laughed at our ongoing surprise as the windy streets twisted and turned. As we reflected, an invading army wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Take a Moment

I woke this morning early, heart beating hard and mind picking right back up from either a dream or the events left over from the night before – it was hard to say. When changing positions in bed and a sip of water brought nothing, it was time to get up, despite the early hour I made out through the glow of my old running watch, fumbling for the correct button.

I took myself to the sunniest spot in our small apartment and did yoga as the sky changed. I made a glaze for the date and nut bars that had cooled overnight, poured my coffee, and took my book outside onto the balcony. Our balcony is the last to be kissed by the morning sun and while the neighbours’ laundry had surely dried, I bundled into a jacket and let the sun gently bring me into the day.

It was hard, actually.

I was antsy, uncertain, energetic, and had far too much on my mind to sit there as calmly and quietly as it may have seemed. Even while doing yoga, I had thought of lists to do, weighed scenarios in my mind, and pushed myself time and again back to my intention – be here now. On the balcony, I let my book focus my attention, let the feeling of the chair pressing into the backs of my legs keep me anchored to where I was.

As is often the case, the uneasiness dissipated as the sun moved higher in the sky. Along with it, I felt better as dawn became day. The concerns I’d had were logical, systematic, manageable. The beating of my heart slowed down, the anxiety I’d felt crushing my chest upon waking drifted off and settled somewhere out of reach.

When such feelings flickered again later, as feelings often do, I looked for the breath I was supposed to find during yoga. I looked for the breath that had been elusive in the moment, and waited as years of practice called it back when I took a step back and closed my eyes. I smiled instead of settling into the negative emotion and felt the emotion loosen its grip. That’s not always the right response, but that was what this moment required. There would be an opportunity to revisit later on.

Be here, now.

Born for This

In the film we watched one Friday evening, one character asked the other, “Wofür bist du geboren?” I like the phrasing of this question in German better than its English counterpart, which would be something like, “What is your calling?” The idea of being born for something rather than called for something just sits more easily with me.

I turned to you and asked and you answered immediately. To help and support other people, you said, to make their lives better, less stressful, to bring laughter and joy. You did not need to think before answering; you just knew.

Since then, I’ve been mulling over my own answer to this question. I know who I want to be as I walk in this world, but how can I tell for sure if that’s who I am? I think I’m a good listener and I think I make people feel seen and heard, that they feel like they matter. This is how I want to be as a partner, as part of a family, as a friend, as an educator. This is what I want to be my purpose in the world – being someone who can listen and who shows others that they matter.

Wofür bist du geboren?

What is your purpose in this world, in this life?