Category Archives: On My Mind

On My Mind

Drifting

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I can’t seem to move from the floor, even though there are plenty of other places to sit. As a rule, I enjoy sitting on the floor, but this isn’t a particularly comfortable spot. The day is grey and while I had an idea of what to do with it when I woke up, any desire to follow through seems to have vanished. There’s no real reason for it, but there it is.

When the French press was empty, I made a cup of tea and stood at the balcony door, watching the trees move in the wind, looking out into a distance that I could reach by foot in just a few kilometres. The idea had been to head out there, not because it’s a nice day but because it’s something to do.

But to be honest, I’m tired of finding things to do just for the sake of something to do. I enjoy my time at home, but I also enjoy purposeful activity, and that was noticeably missing. There’s enough to do for the sake of diversion, but doing itself was not the point. And besides, tomorrow is likely to feel like today and the chores could get done then. Maybe there will be a greater sense of urgency.

But urgency is not the same as purpose, and purpose seems to be in short supply at the moment. Our trip to Peru was a life dream to fulfil before we embarked on other life dreams. And I guess I’m feeling a little dream-shy at the moment. What’s to say that the new dreams aren’t snatched away, too?

One could argue, we’ve lived through a pandemic and come out the other side. Isn’t that evidence enough?

One could argue, it’s too soon, take your time, life will settle back to normal. 

Both true. Neither especially comforting.

So I’m sitting on the floor, writing this instead of going out to – what? Be out. Just to be out. Because being out there is certainly more fulfilling than being in here.

On My Mind

Cancelled

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There were enough signs that aligned (or didn’t) that we knew before we admitted we knew: We would not be travelling to Peru as we planned. It was 4am when we first broached the subject and 11am when we made the decision. We’d booked the trip six months earlier and had talked about it for at least six months before that. But the universe just didn’t turn the way we needed it to turn.

We cried, realizing we were giving up on a dream. There will be other dreams, of course, but dreams are the things that grab hold of us and that’s what makes them so hard to let go.

Over the subsequent days, I realized that I was still sad. I woke up in the mornings wishing I were still asleep, not ready to face yet another day here, when everything I had been looking forward to was somewhere else.

We’ve gone out every day and watched spring coming into full force. I’ve cooked some nice things.

My favourite area in Weimar is the forest close to our flat and I brought my journal there one day. It helps me breathe a little more easily.

When life doesn’t go according to plan, it provides us all sorts of opportunities to realign and readjust. This is a chance to look at my own behaviour and actions in the face of a disappointment and behave differently next time. That’s real life, and there will be a great deal more of it that does not go according to plan.

It its own messy way, that’s what makes it beautiful.

On My Mind

Bad Day

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I caught up to a new colleague while cycling home through the park last week. We’d had our first real conversation just weeks earlier at a wine tasting, which led us to meet in a café days later to continue our conversation. Like many of us who move around, she was looking to find her people. We’re a small school without much transience, and I appreciate that this can be hard to do. I was new once, too.

As one does, I asked about her day and was surprised by the response. “Actually it wasn’t that great,” she said, and I asked if she wanted to tell me more. We rode together until the path forked and I continued towards home.

She’d had a bad day and thanked me for talking about it with her. I was happy to listen, had related some of my own experiences, and had tried to ask questions that might prompt a change of perspective. It wasn’t until I was cycling home the next day, alone, that I realized how seldomly we actually answer the question, “How was your day?”.

I had an administrator once whose classic reply was, “Do you care?”, meant to prompt the asker into thinking about the question. That there’s only one real answer to that question presents its own difficulties. Based on personal observation, Germans tend to avoid the question entirely and just ask how you are. Whether talking about one’s day factors into the answer is purely optional.

Thinking about it from this perspective, I was flattered that my colleague had given me a real answer. It had meant some vulnerability on her part, and that’s not easy with people we’re trying to get to know. But that is the way to get to know people, according to the social penetration theory that my psychology students and I study. Relationships tend to move from superficial and shallow to deeper and more intimate, and people tend to like individuals who share more deeply, leading them to do so in return.

Through the conversation about the bad day, my colleague and I learned a little bit more about each other. We found some commonalities, recognized that others are there for us when we’re open to them, and strengthened a connection. And that’s not a bad way to begin building a friendship.