Many, many years ago, the father of a dear friend told me, “You know, Becca, you need to make sure it’s the right person in the right place at the right time.” I don’t remember the context, but I remember being in the kitchen at the family’s home, one of those wonderful places that never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. I’ve forgotten everything else about that moment, but I’ve always held onto those words.
That’s what was in my mind when I received a call full of uncertainty and doubt. And after listening and affirming what I’d heard, that’s what informed my response. The voice on the other end remained doubtful and uncertain but sounded a little less torn, a little less fraught.
After hanging up, I thought about what I’d felt in my body while we talked; you’d told me what you were feeling in yours. The equanimity I had experienced and continued to experience assured me that I’d given the most honest answer I could, and I believe you heard that.
I hope your mind quieted and that you slept softly. To look around, consider whether the circumstances are right, and make a choice can be scary – and that’s how we know it’s important.
Upon receiving a job offer in Germany, I began my ongoing labour of learning the German language. Unlike learning Mandarin when living in Singapore, learning German seemed possible and, based on what I learned during my interview, necessary to integrate into German society. As a Westerner in Asia, I was almost always on the outside. It would be nice to feel differently in Germany.
After multiple free trials for language-learning programs and software before deciding on a subscription, I signed up to receive a free German word via email each day. After two years, I know most of the words before they arrive in my inbox but I find the sample sentences helpful. Exposure to proper grammar and complex thought is always welcome.
Recently, der Blitz, lightening, was my German word of the day. The sample sentence read: Das Aufleuchten von Blitzen kann schön sein, ist aber sehr gefährlich. Flashes of lightening can be beautiful but are very dangerous.
I liked the combination of beautiful and dangerous, and thought immediately of my favourite ways to be in nature – mountains to climb, ski, and hike; paths through the forest to cycle; the ocean to feel myself weightless. Beautiful and dangerous.
To fall in love is beautiful, and it is worth noting that the phrase contains the word “fall”. Falling can be dangerous. And maybe this is why so many people chase this feeling. People make all kinds of risky choices because the feelings that come from them are beautiful, and perhaps it is the beauty mixed with danger that creates allure. We call these people “thrill seekers” and it is precisely this they are after. To chase a dream is beautiful. The journey itself might be as dangerous as the outcome, whether or not that dream is realized.
I would say that danger alone does not constitute a reason to shy away from what is beautiful. The question is simply the extent to which one can safely go before finding oneself in too deep, up too high, or too far off the path. The question is how to manage the risk.
In the mountains, we travel together, with maps, with gear, with knowledge. Cyclists carry tools and extra tubes. Children learn to always swim with a buddy. Many people have Plan B in mind in case Plan A doesn’t work out, though some might say that having a Plan B means we haven’t totally committed to Plan A. I read once that if the answer isn’t 100% yes, it’s no. Can the answer be 100% yes after we’ve let the tiny voice have its say, or does the existence of the tiny voice mean “no”? In the case of relationships, do we build walls to keep parts of ourselves safe? Where is this line between beautiful and dangerous?
Das Aufleuchten von Blitzen kann schön sein, ist aber sehr gefährlich. Flashes of lightening can be beautiful but are very dangerous.
Here, there is no line. The beauty and the danger exist together, and living lies in navigating between them. If the line were clear, obvious, demarcated, there would be no journey to living at all.
The first person to call me a treasure lied to me.
The second had just met me but somehow saw me.
The third loved me.
It’s a funny thing, love, and you know it, don’t you, you know it because it makes people do crazy things they wouldn’t otherwise do, or so they say. But it’s not magic, you know, as much as we might like to think; it’s hormones, not magic neurotransmitters chemicals and that makes it even more infuriating because you know exactly, exactly how it works and why and why it still gets to you is beyond you. But well, it’s gotten to everyone at sometime or another.
Or not.
And it’s funny because what swells the heart now is not love, actually, but a dream of what could be what isn’t what might what isn’t a dream but sometimes a wish hope dare you think – prayer?
Easier to skip it. Easier to skip it and move on and “one way ticket ’round the world” like you said because if you don’t want any part of it that’s fine that’s fine. That was clear from the start.
It’s a mantra, a meaning, a purpose and it doesn’t even exist, not yet, not today, not with you, but it’s a it’s the it’s like they asked, “what do you want most?” and “what are you afraid of?” and you smiled and hedged and then answered the second question to answer the first. They asked the questions and you knew the answers more deeply than you’ll ever admit to anyone but yourself because you’d be naked without the armour and you’ve been there before.
A sudden wave of clarity and you’ve slept better since.
A sudden wave of clarity and it’s easier to laugh and to think, well, at least it happened at least there was a minute at least you got lost for a while.
The paper is still there, after all, and it’s a shame, really, a shame because that could have been, well, a dream. They (who?) say that when you know, you know, but all I’ve ever known is that that’s what they say. And you? Because it’s not fair to you either, is it?
The English language really could use more variation on “you”.
After all you’re no longer – you’re not – flip the pages on the calendar – more pages than you’d thought. I’m glad I found you.
And you? You know the neurochemistry and you know that look and sometimes – but you can’t go there won’t go there and in the end don’t want to go there because if you did, you’d be there already. That’s just the way you are, you said, and when you know, you know.
Schatz is the German word for “treasure” and it’s used as a term of endearment. I like this word very much and I’ve been familiar with it for a long time, though it came as a shock when I encountered it again after many years away. There are certain things we’d simply rather not remember, associations we’d rather not have.
The English language doesn’t tend to use “treasure” in this way. In English, pirates, children, and some playful adults search for buried treasure, but it’s rarely something you’d call somebody. I certainly never have. The fact that I can count three occasions in which this word was used says something about it. Not common. Reason enough to remember.
I have a funny relationship with this word, simply because I have had three very different experiences with it. I would assume that everyone prefers some terms of endearment over others, and that we all have such words that we’d rather not use or rather not hear. Our experiences in friendships, romantic relationships, and long-term partnerships shape how we approach new people and the ways we interact with them. These experiences shape the choices and decisions we make, and what we will or will not accept in others. One thing I have learned about myself is that I know who I am and I am not looking for anyone else to affirm that. In some ways, this makes me much more vulnerable because I’ve already lost what I had to lose, so I am more open than I might otherwise be. In other ways, I can feel the walls I’ve wrapped around myself because I’d really rather not go through such loss again. There’s a constant balance in shades of gray, and if I’m honest, I’d rather not balance. The language of interaction matters, and language is not only words.
I’ve been called a treasure three times.
Perhaps I was a different person each time.
Perhaps all of those versions of myself are somehow contained in this self.
And perhaps, just perhaps, there is another word.
Weimar, Germany – February 2022
Photos, travels, musings, and ideas on education by someone trying to make the world a better and more peaceful place
By Rebecca Michelle 