Nordhofen Westerwald (Rheinland-Pfalz, Germany)
My body speaks to me in the form of pain. It's the joints. At first, I'm confined to the bed, the couch, or a chair because I can barely walk. My movements are so restricted that I fear I won't be able to do everyday things anymore.
On that very same day, before the first pain shoots into my ankles without warning, we're on a walk in the nearby forest. We talk about how good this is for us and how much we hope we'll be able to do this into old age. We dream of taking long hikes, of always being in motion.
And then everything ends in a single moment. I become aware of how fragile life is. It's something you carry somewhere in your consciousness, something that's present as a thought sometimes, but you quickly let it go again because you're doing well. Until you're not doing well anymore. The same thought then has a different power, a new effect.
Since that moment, a feeling of loss has been predominant, almost overwhelming. The naive belief that the body will always carry you reliably through the world is barely, if at all, still there. Now there's a fear, disguised as caution with every movement, that is omnipresent. Another fear added to all the other fears one collects in life.
And there's a deep longing to be able to walk, to be in life, to be in motion. This longing is stronger than the fear, unfortunately not always. But it's there and I want to nourish it with the dreams within me. Dreams of new places and countries. Dreams of long and short walks. Dreams of discoveries and encounters. Dreams of a life in abundance and depth. Dreams that cover the fears and sometimes dissolve them completely.
My body speaks to me in the form of pain. It's the joints. At first, I'm confined to the bed, the couch, or a chair because I can barely walk. My movements are so restricted that I fear I won't be able to do everyday things anymore.
On that very same day, before the first pain shoots into my ankles without warning, we're on a walk in the nearby forest. We talk about how good this is for us and how much we hope we'll be able to do this into old age. We dream of taking long hikes, of always being in motion.
And then everything ends in a single moment. I become aware of how fragile life is. It's something you carry somewhere in your consciousness, something that's present as a thought sometimes, but you quickly let it go again because you're doing well. Until you're not doing well anymore. The same thought then has a different power, a new effect.
Since that moment, a feeling of loss has been predominant, almost overwhelming. The naive belief that the body will always carry you reliably through the world is barely, if at all, still there. Now there's a fear, disguised as caution with every movement, that is omnipresent. Another fear added to all the other fears one collects in life.
And there's a deep longing to be able to walk, to be in life, to be in motion. This longing is stronger than the fear, unfortunately not always. But it's there and I want to nourish it with the dreams within me. Dreams of new places and countries. Dreams of long and short walks. Dreams of discoveries and encounters. Dreams of a life in abundance and depth. Dreams that cover the fears and sometimes dissolve them completely.