Les Ts de David

Assise dans un David's Tea sur Queen's West, Toronto.  Canada.
Essayant de demeurer ouverte, en me sachant bel et bien au centre
Je suis encerclée de périphéries, de perspectives, d'opportunités, d'images, de souvenirs.
Le passé et le futur se buttent incessamment au carrefour de mes esprits.
Donc j'essaie, de rester dans la danse.  Yin et Yang qui ''jive'' et qui spinnent, 
Parce que: qui dirige.  Et qui suit?
Rester dans la Danse.  Y mettre du siens, écouter la poly-rhytmique.
Bien certaine que tout ça est un rêve.  Respirant grâce à la grâce des enseignements de tous les buddhas

À l'ombre de cette fameuse tour du CN, je relie dans mon esprit les références déjà vécues: la fameuse Fernehturm de Berlin, the tv tower.  Apparently,

The Fernsehturm is the fourth tallest freestanding phallic structure in Europe, after Moscow's Ostankino Tower, the Kiev TV Towerand the Riga Radio and TV Tower. 

(Yes, the words in bold italics were added.)

Il y a un an - seulement - je me trouvais tout autre part... à Berlin.  Dans l'automne de Berlin, pérégrinant ... presqu' exactement comme je le fais aujourd'hui.  Et pourtant: une année s'est écoulée.

Ce matin j'ai promené Luna sur des tapis de feuilles humides et bigarrées: rouge, orange, jaune, vertes, des érables, des chênes, des ... connaissez-vous les espèces d'arbres que vous côtoyer quotidiennement?    Pas moi.

Je marchais comme j'aime tant marcher  quand j'ai le temps pour marcher: sens aiguisés, coeur et poumons gonflés, pas léger et plus ou moins sans but.  Prendre le temps de prendre conscience de toute la beauté de ce qui nous entoure (= environnement).  La beauté dans tout ce qu'elle a de triste et de répugnant aussi.  La ville, c'est parfois ça aussi.

Je réalisai que je voyage souvent l'automne.  Je marche des rues qui me rappellent celles de Hamburg, puis de Prague, et me revoilà à traverser l'Europe.  Je repense à Portland, à San Francisco. Des rues d'automnes.
Des départs, des petites morts, des expirations.
Il faisait froid, à Prague, et c'était parfait parce qu'on buvait du vin chaud... Mmmhh.
À Istanbul, nous prenions le traversier en buvant de petits verres de thé noir.  Chaï.
À Toronto, je suis dans un David's Tea.  And it's pretty awesome, actually.

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Méditations sur la fine ligne qui sépare la volonté du non-contrôle.  Je repense au dharma talk auquel j'ai eu le plaisir de participer hier soir, au Centre of Gravity.
Discussion sur la dualité et l'illusion du moi, Discussion sur le phénomène de la projection.  Say what!?  N'est-ce pas là mon sujet favoris!?  J'étais donc là auprès d'une vingtaine d'autres êtres humains, pour méditer et entendre la présentation de je-ne-sais-plus-qui, pratiquante de la lignée Tibétaine Shambala, et ''Gestalt therapist''.
Elle.  Assise à côté de moi.  En elle.  Que dire?  Une nouvelle amie.  Une nouvelle dynamique.  Une nouvelle flamme-en-effet, qui combuste lentement ce qu'elle a de carburant.  Qui se découvre. Une chaleur plaisante.
Feu feu, jolie feu.
---
Le familier.
C'est indéniable, désormais: cet '''état de voyage'' m'est devenu si familier.... si confortable, en quelque sorte.   C'est souvent dans cet ''état'' que je me suis sentie la plus fidèle à moi même: libre de m'émerveillée, de m'émerveiller.. libre d'être libre...

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Europe Smokes

It was disturbing in Berlin, living in an omnipresent cloud of cigarette smoke.  Inside their houses, their apartment, inside bars and train stations, everywhere, everyone smokes!  And as it turns out, it's been the same in Prague and now in Istanbul.

I even got on board for a while, seduced by that strange idea I got somewhere - movies? - that coffee (or wine) and cigarettes make for a good time.

Polluting one's body is not a good time.

Inhaling vitiated air, fighting for oxygen, feeling one's eyeballs dry up and itch, waking up with the breath of a train chimney… what's pleasurable about that?

Yet we do it, we roll and lit that tobacco like there is no tomorrow

Wait a second!

Is that why people smoke so much?  Is it because we believe there's no tomorrow?

I've come up with this loose theory that Europeans might have a more nihilistic/fatalistic attitude towards their health, because of they have that special flavor of existentialism, and that special relationship with the weight of history.  

"As the archeology of our thought easily shows, man is an invention of recent date.
And one perhaps nearing its end." (Michel Foucault)
(Istanbul)

When the streets you walk on have been the theater for corteges of emperors, and kings, for crusades and plagues, revolutions, trenches, bombs, dictators, and now still this heartless, ever-so-absurd neoliberalism… When your history is so blatantly filled with suffering and double-edged promises of "progress" … you might not see as much of a point in trying to keep yourself "healthy."

Nature and Civilization
(Berlin)

  When you know war first-hand, on your own land, you might have a harder time according importance to your own individual health.  You might even hope to die from lung cancer, before the atrocities happen again.

Smoking tobacco is not evil in itself.  Tobacco is a medicinal plant, after all.  Tobacco was used in ceremonies, in peace pipes that bounded treaties.  (I guess it has always brought people together, in a way.)  I'm all for medicinal plants. 

We gotta take the power back!
(Leipzig)

But I'm not too sure about tar, DDT, arsenic, cyanide, and everything else!!  I'm not too sure about the ethics of Malboro, Gauloises, and Camel.

In these times of truth speaking, of demanding for accountability and of acknowledging the gap in power dynamics, I wonder… why are we giving away so much of our will-power to them?

Why are we giving away our desire and ability to take care of ourselves?  Why are we following tobacco corporations down the dark sooty  tunnel of decay and death?  Why are we so eagerly contributing to the pollution of our atmosphere, treating our bodies the same way we treat the planet?

East Side Gallery
(Berlin)

I know, it's far from easy to quit.

Addiction is a phenomenon to ponder.  It is everywhere in many forms.  (We'll talk about sugar in a future episode.)  We tend to see addiction as a personal affair, but it is also-so-social... and in the case of tobacco, so gregarious.

I don't want to romanticize cigarette smoke anymore.  I don't want to feel the inside of my body turning black.

Yes indeed, a behavior reflects a state of mind.  Sometimes I imagine myself as that weightless stream of smoke, going up into the ether, eventually dispersing, free.  Somehow, I associate smoking with freedom; with taking a vacation from the buzz of modern life.  

Sometimes I need to regroup myself, get out of the crowd for a moment, be with my thoughts and feelings for a moment.  I don't need to smoke a cigarette to take that break, but for some reason that's the normal thing to do.  Sitting alone on the curb looking at the stars would raise too many questions on my state of mind.

Finally taking time to write these thoughts down,
(Thanks, perhaps, to rainy Istanbul.)

I've been feeling a bit alarmed, obviously.  I've been dreaming of clean air.  I wonder if there exists a city where it is easy to take care of one's body/self.  I could use their momentum.

Because everything is habit.

Everything is habit.

Naming my name

This guy...

  Location: a chic hostel in the middle of Prague.  I've reserved my spot for three nights, for only 300 Czech crowns (10 Euros) per night.  I'm in the mixed-gender "dorm", but it looks more like a collective hotel room, with white fluffy beds and a full kitchen!  There's a group of Aussies in the next room.

I spent yesterday afternoon in a state of limbo.  On one hand, I was (and still am) digesting the reality of my departure from Berlin and of all the good people I left behind.  On the other hand, I felt overwhelmed by the complete inaccessibility of the language here... of being a tourist again.
I didn't quite feel lonely however.  Just, in limbo.

was all over Berlin...

This being said, I would like to revisit my recent past for a moment (I've obviously been having difficulties blogging in real time lately!) because I feel the need to reiterate... to remember: how I am fool of love.

For I felt it on Sunday evening: this almost unbearable amount of love, filling up my chest... this feeling that I could almost explode... so full of Love!
It's that feeling that's behind my name.  It's that phenomenon that brings me grace; whether it be around the table with my friends and family in Quebec, or in Dolores Park in San Francisco, or even... in Berlin?
Perhaps I can really do it.  Perhaps I can feel the connection even as I live this nomadic existence.
There's always that ambivalence of emotions: part mourning and part celebration.

and it just made me...

I could hardly believe my eyes on Sunday night.
It was HE's last show, and the room at Silver Future was full of these people who have hosted me in the past month and a half: Christian, my first Berlin host (and last, as I went full circle and spent the last couple of nights at his place), Jakob (he who brought me to the Dunckerstrasse house, and to contact improv class!), as well as Alyssa, who came all the way from Hamburg, and everybody at the Hermanstrasse house!!

What a beauty-full picture it was to see all these generous souls gathered in one room, along with friends from the Shake Circus: Sharon and Daniel and Asia, and Camille and Robert, and two of the Tentabulles women (lesbo-acro, as Harvey and I like to call it) ... even one of the girls from the dance project I did at Tachales! ...They had all come to see our ShameNoShame! and now they were mingling and connecting with one another.  And I felt so touched, so honored, so blessed... so fool of Love!

smile...
every single time!

AND, well it was Harvey and I's last show together... at least for a while.  Seven-or-so months, of working together, and there we were, having come soooo far!  There we were, the trans-national, genderstranged clown duo... playing on stage at one of the most queerlicious spots on the planet.    We did it!  We co-created this absurdist/extremely meaningful (contradiction? sure!) piece of clown theater.  We put in those countless hours of rehearsals, organization, and fundraising, and made our project soar all the way across the Atlantic!  What a team.  What an eccentric duo.  What a work ethic.  What a perfect dynamic for me to explore my aesthetics, my emotions, my limitations.  I am so thankful Harvey came into my life, I know our relationships is beyond those seven months, I know there is much more for us to share.
But for now, we had to part.  Or to put it more accurately: I had to part.  I had to set sail and see more of the world.
She is immigrating to Germany.  I need to journey on the boundary for now...
So I'm off, on my own.
And I take with me this bag of memories.. the laughter and the conversations...

Thank you friends.
Wherever you might be...

I hope to make my life, my joys and my wonder, like an offering and inspiration for ya'll...

Polizei, Dynamics... and pacifism?

Another retroactively posted blog:

---

In a Underground train station

I've been thinking about the police a whole lot recently.  I wonder about the Oakland demonstrations.  I wonder -once more-  about who the police is supposed to work for.  I wonder about  the choices individuals make, i.e. why do they choose the police?

  

I wonder if there is really a "us & them".

Of course there is a "they".  (And of course, we are One, too.)  They: own satellites.  They: own resources.  They: have "the power."  (Marx was right.)

They don't have authority, however.  They have shown that they know no better.  But power, that they have.  (I think it is crucial that we make a distinction between power and authority.)

Advertisement on hand paper towels
(Yes, this is random.)

When I came back from Leipzig, the man who gave me a ride (through mitfahrgelegenheit, a wonderful rideshare website, which is quite a display of how trusting and generous people can be!) was… an army sergeant!

He was very friendly.  Good energy.  And he appeared to be quite open-minded even.  He showed genuine interest in getting to know the story of his passengers (there were two of us), and he shared that he too dreams of travelling for more than a month at a time.

The three of us chatted all the way to Berlin, and since we also wanted to hear his story, we asked him about his job in the army.

"There are two types of armies in Germany", he explained. "We have the one that protects the people in the country, and another to go abroad and work there, like in Kozovo or Afghanistan for example."

"The draft was abolished a few years ago," he added.

I asked him why, and he said: "Borders within Europe are safe now, we don't need that many people anymore."

I took a pause before asking the question that was really burning in me, because I thought I was taking a chance by potentially engaging on a topic that could reveal our political/ideological disagreement.  But I guess I also felt it was safe enough, and a golden opportunity, so I asked him as diplomatically as I can (which is, I believe, actually pretty well!): "Can I ask you something?  What about what happens when there are demonstrations?  Who are the people dispatched there?  Is it the police, or the army, or what?"

"Ah.. those are.." He searched for the English word.. " Riots Police.  They go to football (soccer) matches and all.."  But he knew what I was referring to so he continued:  "And also protests about nuclear energy, and now there's this whole occupy thing…"

"Yeah… that's what I'm thinking about.   And you know, like when the Leipzig Protests were going on." I said.  "I just can't understand who these people are working for."

He quickly answered: "They protect the system."

There was a short silence, but he didn't seem to be feeling bad or guilty.  (And that's good, because it wasn't my intention.)  Rather, I enjoyed how we had named something and were now together left to make sense of it.

Protecting the system.  Maintaining "order".  Defending the status quo.

Yet aren't people and societies constantly evolving?

Aren't people legitimate in asking for institutional changes then?  Especially when a given system fails to secure well-being for the majority.  Especially when the few who get to make important structural decisions cannot figure out how to provide stability.  

Isn't that what we all want after all?  Don't we all inherently seek a certain level of stability?"  (I'm open to being refuted, as always!)

Are they - those who refuse to take part in the co-creating of a better, more sustainable future -  simply acting out of ignorance?  

Or are we preserving the inequalities of the system out of pure malice?!  What a sad thought.

Besides, too much inequality will bring any system out of balance, and is thus not advantageous to anyone trying to keep their status as "king of the mountain."

Perhaps it is too difficult for humans to find balance - consciously, that is.  Perhaps it is impossible in fact.  Perhaps we are meant to go through series of revolutions in order to move forward.  I just happen to think that it's a shame we shed so much blood in the process.  And it's a shame that some humans have to kill other humans, and suffer from PTSD for the rest of their lives.

I told the sergeant about my dilemma concerning pacifism.  "I have thought about these things for quite some time now, and I'd say that I consider myself a pacifist.  But I'm open to conversation about this, cause even within myself I go back and forth sometimes."

I looked at him (he wore a camouflage uniform), showing that I was genuinely curious about his thoughts on the subject.

"I believe that we each fight a war inside of us.  That's what makes us grow.  So war is part of evolution."

How Nietzschean!  I told him I would think about that one.

I thought about those of us who have been working to transcend the war within ourselves, about accepting all parts of ourself.  For I strongly believe now that each side has a message for me, as a whole, complex, changing being.  Each side, each conflicting emotion, has something valuable it is trying to defend.  I cannot silence or repress either of them, for it will only backfire.

One last thing he said, which I liked, was: " It's okay for the people to demonstrate, as long as they don't use violence."  He paused.  "That's the difference.  The riot police has license to violence, but only when they are threatened."  The guy in the back seat made a comment.  "They just have different standards as to what is threatening I guess."  "Well, there are a minority.  And that's threatening," I said.

"i wonder… perhaps that's what infuriates the masses," I thought out loud, "the fact that they are not allowed to use violence.."

How can I say this while calling myself a pacifist?  Well, I call it musings, options, perspectives.

I do believe that nonviolence has an evolutionary significance.

I do think that living in the nuclear age calls for a  reconsideration of the violent/reactive behaviors we claim to be "natural", that perhaps the time has come for humanity to think up new ways to see differences and to resolve conflicts.

Oakland to Berlin
Police brutality targets minorities
And WE REMEMBER

Evolution.  Crises.  Crossroads.

Nature, nurture.

Conditioning, habit.  Rebellion.

Generations.

Re-generations.

Composting.

Destruction.

And so on

And so on

Raving Hosts (retroactive post)

Internet has been down for a few days...

I actually wrote this about 3 days ago.

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Too many to taste them all,
though I tried!

I now have only a few days left in the great city of Berlin. Again, I should have written daily instead of accumulating so much… 

But here's the inescapable conundrum: there is not enough time to both participate in life and also reflect/write about it! 

As my time here trickles down ever so steadily, I find myself filled with growing amounts of feelings and thoughts; and as much as i'd love to organize them into words, I still prefer being in the flow of things.

I cannot get over how beauty-full autumn is!

I cannot get over how generous people can be.

I wish I could stay long enough to get a better hold of the German language.   I really do find this language interesting.  It is so precise, so organized, such a perfect medium for philosophers, poets,  and writers to play with.  At least that's what I hear.  I wouldn't know; I can't judge by myself!

I wish I could stay longer, and go to one of those electronica/rave parties.  I had my chance last week but I didn't take it.  Even though I do not regret staying in to take care of myself and rest (I was in that dance project that weekend), I know that I missed out on something very unique. 

I met these wonderful people though couchsurfing, once again (I had done a search using the keyword "Dubstep"), and hoped the connection could lead me to a good dancing spot.  After all, Berlin is famous for its electronica scene… I so wanted to get a taste of it!  

My new hosts (seven lovely young adults around my age, students, travelers, activists, who share communal groceries and struggle a bit to keep the place tidy…)  were actually organizing a happening of their own, on the first night that I was to stay over!

When I got there I couldn't quite tell who actually lived in the flat, for there were many friends coming and going in preparation for the party.  (In fact, even as days went by, friends - as well as more couch surfers- just kept coming in and out, to hang out and say hello and share a few cigarettes.  It's just like that here: It's an open house.)  

Mein Haus ist dein Haus

I had been looking forward to this, but when the night came I had to honnestly check in with myself and acknowledge that my foot hurted way too much to go dancing.  What a shame!

For this thing was no regular club party.  It took place in the basement of an old disaffected hospital at the outskirt of Berlin- illegally that is.

People taking a breath of fresh air (not my friends' party)
while the music is still thumping!
(I walked by on Saturday night, and then on Sunday afternoon!)

No advertisement, no Facebook invite, no flyers…  only word-of-mouth…. 

And I still might have gone if it had started earlier, but it didn't take off until two in the morning!  At six o'clock, when the police showed up, they found about four hundred people dancing on the two underground floors of the hospital.  

This seems to happen regularly.  The police didn't do much; they just shut down the amplifiers and sent the people to bed… Those dancing rebels and their untamable thirst for life and creation!

German humor!

Nietzsche Pilgrimage, Leipzig.

I am sitting at a bus stop, on the ground, outside the town of Röcken.  I wish I had my sunglasses, for the sky is clear again today and the sun shines so brightly that I'm thinking: "Fall was really the perfect time to come to Germany!"  
A truck is coming by; the next vehicle might take a few minutes to come through.  I am a stranger in a remote place.  People turn their heads as if they never saw young women with dreadlocks and half a shaved head walk by with a big red backpack.
The next bus will come in a bit more than two hours.

So after I am done with this writing, I might stick out my thumb and see if I couldn't hitch a ride to Weissenfels, from where I can then take train back to Leipzig (It takes about an hour).  I wonder if anybody would stop.

I am here because I came on a small pilgrimage to visit Nietzsche's birthplace, and to lay a flower on his grave.  
There is nothing else in Röcken; it is a lost little settlement in the middle of nowhere.  
I like it a lot!

Quite a sober resting place for such an imminent personality.

I wondered what feelings might take me when I'd finally get here.  
Nietzsche has been one of the main influences on my thinking since I first read his Genealogy of Morals, nine years ago.  It is not too much to say - some of you can attest to this - that, since that day, my whole existence has pretty much unfolded as an experiment in following that which streams from my understanding and opinion of his work.  It is, of course, my own idiosyncratic experiment.  There can be no single exegesis of Nietzsche's legacy.  And so I set out to produce my own.

Rest in Peace.
Danke schön.

I am but a simple seeker and lover-of-wisdom, privileged enough to travel here and pay my homage to one of the most important thinkers in history.  


Thus I sat next to the marble tombstone and prayed outloud to his soul and spirit.  I thanked him for his courage, and I wished for him to rest in peace.  I asserted how loved he is, by many of us, and asked his spirit to forgive us our inability to see and use whatever love he had to share with humanity.

He suffered so much.  He was so alone.  I can understand how he could have been so merciless and desperate in his words.  

He was meant to destroy the old tablets in order for us to come closer to the Source/Truth.  He was far from perfect.  Nobody is.

The memorial: not one, but three Nietzche looking over his own Tombstone...
One in which he's looking in the distance,
One in which his eyes are made of stones.
One in which he holds his mother's arm.

Friedrich is buried next to his whole family: his sister, mother, and father.
What a trip, to think that he stood there once,
perhaps crying on his father's grave...

In silence, I took a walk on the streets of Röcken.  And by "in silence" I mean that the entire village actually seemed deserted.  It took me fifteen minutes to go through everything; four of five paved streets, a couple dozens of houses, a handful of fruit trees and some chickens.  I saw one woman come out of her house; she didn't return my greeting.

I wonder what people mean when they talk about small conservative German villages.  (I wonder what kind of conversation could come out around topics like "polyamory" or "queer".  I think we'd probably agree on a lot of issues of "bioregional politics" ,"sustainability", or even "over-population".

Nietzsche only lived here for the first six years of his life (1844-1850).  His father was still alive then; he served as a Lutheran minister for the area.  I wonder how Röcken looked back then.  I wonder how small was that tree I saw next to the church, 171 years ago!

Now I am going back to Leipzig, where I shall go find some rest in the cozy home that my two lovely Leipziger hosts have opened to me, "the couch surfer".

Leipzig
Revolutions to Revolutions...

Two of my hosts' friends offered to
spend the day with me!
Bless!

L. and J. are an adorable couple in their early twenties.  They were born and raised in Leipzig, and they love their city.  "It is not so diverse," says L., "but there are a lot of great places and people here."  From my impression, Leipzig is perhaps to Berlin as Québec city is to Montréal.  It is not too big, not too busy, not too cosmopolitan, but there is a strong sense of history and a lot of beautiful architecture.  The University of Leipzig was built in 1409 (It was the second in Germany).  It covers the epicenter of the city; and one might easily argue that constitutes the very heartbeat of the city.  

A student takes in some Sun in between two classes.
The place, MoritzBastei, stands as the last remnant
of the old medieval wall...

Today, it hosts the most vibrant social spot in Leipzig!

It takes about twenty-five minutes to stroll around and see most of the touristic/historical landmarks of the city.  The most famous - according to the numbers of phototourists I witnessed today!-  is St.Thomas Church.  The reason Leipziger are so proud of their Church, is that a former [Ba]Rock star by the name of  J.S. Bach apparently worked there as Cantor during the last twenty-seven years of his life.  It is the site of his burial, and of pilgrimage.

J.S.Bach

wikinterestingdetails:

The St. Thomas Church dates back to the 12th Century. It was here in 1409 that the University of Leipzig was founded. From 1492 to 1496, the church had the form of a late Gothic hall church. It was also here in 1539 that Martin Luther preached the implementation of the Reformation. For the last 800 years, the St. Thomas Boys Choir has been singing here. Today, visitors from all over the world come to Leipzig to observe church services in the St. Thomas Church, hear a motet from the St. Thomas Boys Choir, or to take pleasure in concerts and organ music.

A few hundred meters from there, there is another famous Church!  It is St.Nikolai's Church (1165), this one known for the "Leipzig Demonstrations."

Inside St.Nikolaikirche

"[...] the demonstrations began on 4 September 1989 after the weekly Friedensgebet (prayer for peace) in the Nikolaikirche, and eventually filled the nearby downtown.  Safe in the knowledge that the Lutheran Church supported their resistance, many dissatisfied East German citizens gathered in the court of the church, and non-violent demonstrations began in order to demand rights such as the freedom to travel to foreign countries and to elect a democratic government.

Informed by (West German) television about the events, people in other East German cities begun repeating the Leipzig demonstration, meeting at city squares on every Monday evening.   On Oktober 9th, 1989, 70,000 people gathered in peaceful protest, at St.Nikolaikirche.  Three weeks later, they were 320 000 people.  They were, of course, surrounded and confronted by "military units."

That's why I wanted to travel to the capital of Saxony, because I thought there might be something to this place: cradle of both the Reformation and of the Leipzig Protests!

I am fascinated with all of this: history, revolutions, utopias, peoples' movements.  I am dumbfounded to see how these black and white pictures portray the such similar images as the ones we see today, on the internet: the people versus the police/army.

Aren't they supposed to protect the people?  Aren't they supposed to be peace agents? 

I hear that Greece is going to remain within the European Union.  And I think to myself...

What would Nietzsche do?

Remembering the destruction of the Great Synagogue of Leipzig,

during the Kristallnacht.

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Here's a poem I just came across while walking in the web!

At Nietzsche’s Grave
By
Antonio Foggi (Italy)

All “wanted to save Nietzsche”,
Those who lived in his time,
Those who lived after,
And all those who ever
Will have anything to do with him.

That “fool” by the name of George
Once said, concerning him:
“He should have sung [….], not spoken …”,
He should have been a poet, not a philosopher.

I, “a worse fool” than he,
I have dedicated a simple reflexion to him, 
That I had made for myself:
I love the color red,
Both the color of communism
And of Love,
Two Things
That I miss terribly
In our times.

Thus,
Also now, I do not know
If one has to save you
From hell, from purgatory,
Or from paradise,
But I know certainly
That it would already have meant a great deal,
Indeed, a tremendously great deal,
If you would have returned from your infamy
And pain-stricken fate
In order to love the world
And its people.

Rest in peace
so far you may reach,
My poor friend.

Q-topia

"We don't want a piece of the pie, we want the whole bakery."

Tachales Kunsthaus

I just spent a gorgeous day on the outskirt of a tiny little village, which is  located an hour northeast of Berlin.  I had been planning this visit to the countryside for a little while.  I woke up after not sleeping so long and so well, and part of me would have gladly stayed in to rest (and do some laundry!), but a greater part knew that there was a reason I was going.

So far I have had the chance to hang out  and chat with a good amount of hold time squatters as well as a few Berliners who are part of this thriving "group living" movement; but this particular community is doing it in somewhat of a different way.

I met G. about a month ago.  She had come to Berlin for the weekend to take part in a casual gathering for women and lesbians to learn and practice acrobatics together.  G. and I didn't get much time to talk back then, because she was in a rush to go pick her children.  Still, it only took a minute to realize we both came from America (meaning the continent, of course).  

In ten minutes, I learned that she has just moved to the area, from Prague where she had lived for the last twenty years.  She told me she now lives on a big plot of land, in an old boarding school that she and seven other people have bought together, "to live under anarchist principles."  "There is a lot of work to do, but we're very excited about this," she had added.  "You should come visit us if you have the time."

"Really?" I had answered with certain dose of … awe.  "Well,  I would love to help with some of the work if I can!"

So the connection was made.  And over the following weeks my new friend was impressively good at keeping in touch and making sure I could come check out her community's project.  So today came, and I took the train out into the German countryside…

Falkenberg Mark Train Station

She picked me up at the train station.  We greeted each other, and as she began to drive she pointed out: "The man and woman who live in this big building here (the station) apparently own five small train stations like this!"  
Really?
On the way she stopped by the only [little] store to get some cooking oil, but for some strange reason it was closed, so we went on to the house.

The house: a former communist boarding school that was abandoned for the past decade.  "There is one other big building, in the back!  It needs to be fixed," she quickly said, "but it's beautiful."  

I could so immediately tell, or rather confirm, how much all of this meant to my new friend.  "I will show you later."

She led me inside the premises… In the kitchen, I met three of her companeras.  Indeed queer looking, for the most part.  Except for G., there were also all German women.  Well... "biological" women I should say, because several of them actually identify as genderqueer or gender-fluid.  Besides, I should note that the project welcomes people of all genders, including men.

(Note: I feel that I don't often address the topic of gender queer-ness, even though it is actually a bit part of my life.)

We made coffee and sat around the kitchen table to chat for a bit.  Somebody came in: "Did such-and-such already talk to you?  Is it okay with you that we cut the tree?"  They were talking about a medium-sized tree, out in the front.  G. explained to me that these two women were "tree killers" (irony intended) by trade, that is, they are environmentalists and take care of diseased tree-individuals.  "And they also work as "pine cone pickers.. or harvesters.  Apparently these things are very valuable to growers.  So they climb all the way to the top of pine trees to collect them and sell them."

She was happy and eager to share the details of the situation: "We shared all the work there is to do, learning from another as we go." Then, she underlined: "This is a shared economy, which means it's a huge deal."

"Yeah.. it's pretty much like being married to seven people at the same time," I said.

"Exactly," she smiled.

There are about a dozen rooms on the second floor of the building, but each single one of them is in a state of total abandonment and in need of solid repair.  "We only set up the electricity of this house a couple of weeks ago.  Before we used a kitchen, with a woodstone, in the other house." 

There are many projects in line for the years to come.  First, there is the mold and the asbestos to take care of.  But then... There will be a whole section of the house available for people to come and give workshops, or organize community events.  There will be a small library and resource center also.  One day, they will knock down that brick structure in the yard and turn it into an outdoor kitchen.  They will invite the whole village to come and share in the food they will grow in their orchard and permaculture garden.

They have already organized a welcoming party for the local people to come and meet them.  What they found out, is that many of them actually used to work in the school!

After the tour my friend asked if I was still interested in working a bit.  She said there were a few options: we can build shelves, or clean the kitchen, or we can find something else."

"I've never built a shelf," I said, "that could be fun."

So we did.   We set up the working station outside the woodshed, and proceeded to assemble… or rather, to measure and calculate angles and try to understand exactly how everything would stand together.  There was no IKEA plan.  We were both learning how to do this!

A meeting has been decreed to take place between three o'clock and five, so G. eventually left me to attend.  And there I was: Halloween day in Germany, a human being on multicolored background, yellow and orange leaves floating gently down the trees, surrounded by silence and warm oxygen.  A sound above my head: birds migrating in a divine demonstration of collective intelligence at work.

Collective intelligence at work.

There is so much more I could write about today.  I could go into conversations on the challenges of community-living, because don't get me wrong: there are obviously a lot of challenges!  Personalities do collide and conflicts.  It is unavoidable.  Fears?  We all have them?  How to mediate the disagreements, the power dynamics, and the streams of feelings that are generated by those.  How much is one able to commit to a certain vision, and how much of a venture like that can lead people to confront themselves too.

But I cannot go into all the details.  This too is a process.

I was so blissed out while doing "carpentry", that I completely forgot to take pictures of the place! Oops.. my bad.  I guess we'll have to agree that our imagination each gave us a different picture!

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A few more pictures:

"Atomic Power?  No thanks."
(Frankfurt - and here and there throughout Germany!)

(I found these three headless men at Tachales!)