.SOMETIMES RAW.

It seems that everybody in this world watches the newly aired NetFlix show “Tyding up with Mari Kondo”.

I watched one or two episodes but became quickly annoyed by high-pitched seemingly set-up welcome ceremonies whenever Kondo walked into a house. It all feels too staged to me. I also cannot deal with her somewhat stubborn insistance that things have feelings. My Canada Goose Coat better keeps me warm here in Canada! Thank you, coat! I hope I don’t hurt your feelings when it is minus 25 Celsius. I choose a minimalistic lifestyle because it is a good tool to make life cheaper and easier for my son and I and to show him different values in life. My apartment is usually always pretty organized and clean. Growing up I have been taught that a house should always be in a stage that people can come over anytime and feel comfortable; meaning a visitor does not stick to things, can sit everywhere or can take a shower if necessary. I realize, however, that cleanliness of your house all depends on who you are and what your comfort level is. But I think it is just reasonable to offer a cup of coffee out of a clean cup.

Maybe you need some help cleaning without necessarily using the Mari-Kondo method who recommends “treating your bras like royalty” and refers to tidying up as a “once-in-a-lifetime special event”. I rather use common sense, which may be even crazier. Overall, I don’t want to create a personality disorder in motion.

I have read once that how your home looks directly reflects what is going on in your head. Some have the misconception that being tidy is a somewhat innate skill, however, cleaning does not come naturally to everyone because it is not a skill but rather a mindset. Start by tidying a bit every day. Put the things you used back right away. Throw away the obvious trash. If it smells and looks bad, it obviously does not spark joy but rather disgust. Get rid of your (Canadian) seasonal depression nest and remove empty beer and wine bottles. Maybe it is a good idea for you to start seeking help if wine, beer bottles, and empty food containers are in places where it is not acceptable; like all over the floor in your house for example.

A couple of weeks ago, I overheard a man telling his friend: “But it is just stuff!” I found out that “the friend’s” house burnt down to the ground. It was just a faulty living room fan that sparked a fire during the day while he was at work. My question is, how do you measure what your stuff means to you, especially in a moment like that? We never know when/if we lose everything and have to start from scratch. It may be even a good thing. Don’t burn your house down now! I just want to give some food for thought to get rid of accumulated and unnecessary junk and how I did it without preaching that you can only achieve the best version of you if your house is uncluttered like an art gallery of “white-everything”. It is also not a thing to maintain a sleek, spare home by throwing out everything you own, painting your walls in “White Dove” and sitting on the floor thanking your tiny table that you have left which holds your one plate to eat.

So, what to do with all this? Doesn’t this clutter-free existence exert a constant pressure that is oppressive in its own way? What really happens is that we all swim up a stream of things for our entire life. Our mind is filled with clutter. New things come and go and they rarely bring us long-term satisfaction but are rather exhausting. Why? Because it is not only our stuff that makes us anxious. It is also our phone and the thousand messages we receive every day to like, listen, follow, react, dislike, subscribe, retweet, insta-like, join, forward and consume. We are constantly threatened with interruptions and every moment is easily erased or subsumed by some more important message or video. Sadly to say, we live in a world of past and future clutter. We are so filled up with noise and interruptions, that it is difficult to be here, now. Things don’t just spark joy but also anxiety. My computer reminds me that deadlines are approaching, the news remind me that the world is soon coming to an end, the online school alert reminds me that I have to pay the fee for my son’s field trip and also to return his library books. Can I step away from this digital pandemonium? Nope.

Can I spark joy all by myself? Do I remember how that feels? A friend told me that “All of heaven is within you and nothing lasts. Just when you start to get comfortable, things change or you may even die. And if you do, maybe only one or two things of what you left behind are important to someone else when you are gone.” Now, here you are with all your possesions. Do the things you own define who you are? Do they make you a better person? I don’t think so. Overall, we don’t need more stuff. Before purchasing more, we should rather work with what we have instead. You don’t need more than this. Now go and light your white soy candle or open a window to let in some fresh air.

“He who has no house will not build one now. He who is alone will be alone for some time. Will be wakeful, will read, will write long letters and will wander restlessly along the lanes when the leaves fall.” – Rainer Maria Rilke (originally in German “Herbsttag”)

I had a discussion about “husband” with a friend the other day. She told me that it felt odd to be married. What is a husband, anyway? As the author André Alex questions: is it someone with whom you have a relationship, a relationship that evolves because time passes and one changes? I would answer: Certainly. But in some way, I could say the same thing about a house or a dog, even (if only instinctively), I feel that a husband is more than a house or more than a dog. So my question is: Is a husband desire or love? Desire and love are way too inconstant to make anything at all, right?! I mean it in the sense that today, for example, my version of love and desire may include my husband, but tomorrow it may not. The next day they will, and then they will not. She did not want to continue the conversation further and switched to “Valentine’s Day” and what to buy for her husband.

“Then things become all at once strange”– Margaret Laurence, The Diviners

Valentine’s Day. 

Today, I had the most amazing dinner-date at a local Italian restaurant with my five-year-old son whom I love so much. As far as relationships, I believe, a partner does not need to be a constant presence, a shadow, or a version of myself but rather an equal, not an idea, a nuisance or habit to fix or constantly nourish (a project), but rather someone who can challenge me on an intellectual level, a shoulder to lean on, someone who has no fear of change, has confidence, spontaneously invites me to a romantic dinner, has good and not only one-sided conversations with me, plans a fancy night out but is also comfortable talking on the couch with a cup of tea, has good emotional intelligence, has a sense of self awareness, someone who can make me laugh and has similar goals and dreams, invites to spontaneous bookstore dates and at the bookstore comes up with the idea to pick a book for each other – that element of serendipity and then we go out for dinner to talk about all things bookish. Someone who is curious and is willing to read aloud to me (especially when I cannot sleep). The basics. In my head, a couple is made up of two opposites, centered around some passion and attraction that mystery causes. Both are curious about and drawn to each other because of their dissimilarities to ourselves. In a healthy relationship, I am fascinated by my counterpart, and I can learn a lot by spending time together. If I do not feel this, I have to move on. Firstly and more important, however, is self-love and the relationship I have with myself before I can fully open up to someone else.

In addition, it is important to learn to argue properly. We all get annoyed and stressed out from time to time. We can be nagging, grumpy, irritated, stressed out or all of the above simultaneously. No couple is perfect, even if some try to make us believe it by posting “happy couple” pictures on Facebook or Instagram. The key is to argue in style with no tension left afterward. No name-calling, no dishes throwing. I want to add to also be apologizing and forgiving. This way it is easy to move on. The air is clean. Overall, having the same rhythm is more important than I often realized. Going to the gym together, or climbing, or jogging. Having the same sleep/read cycle or how both get inspired by the same author. Whatever it may be for you; just feel the same beat. And if you don’t, then sometimes leaving is the only reasonable thing to do and to give energy to relationships that are deserving of it instead of draining.

I celebrate Valentine’s Day every day so this day has no significance to me. But it is 9.45 pm on the actual Valentine’s Day and if you are freaking out because you do not have anything for the love of your life or you forgot this day altogether, I have some emergency tips for you to make up for it tomorrow. (Him/Her = Them)

Take them for a long walk to reconnect. Look at things together. Go to a museum. Talk. Laugh. Get coffee or tea. Surprise them with a little gift just because it is NOT Valentine’s Day anymore. Read together or to each other. Suggest and start a project together, i.e. train for the half-marathon or any other adventure. Sit them down on the kitchen counter. Pour them a glass of wine and kiss. Put on some Jazz. Cook dinner. Repeat every two weeks. SHOW them you love them. Telling is not enough. Give them a “Sunday”: A whole day carefully planned, no kid(s), Spa, brunch, wine and a movie at night on the couch. Be generous: with money, with matters of the heart and with time. Conquer the world together.

Or alone.

“We are all just walking each other home.” —  Ram Dass

Oh’ Canada and your insane freezing cold. The other day, my son and I walked to school and avoided frost bites in our face with ski masks and scarves. “You have to embrace the cold, ” the crossing guard said. Very reassuring. Today it was not as cold but we fought our way through tons of snow. This nebulous nature of winter is very pressing and adds to my overall moodiness, anxiety, and sadness. Worries about my seemingly stagnant career bother to the point that not even a lavender oil bath or a massage can make me feel better. Overall fears are gnawing and real to the point that I do not even know if what I am doing here is right and that the decision to move to Canada in the first place was rather rash, impetuous or altogether wrong. There is for some reason this growing feeling and certainty that I made some really dumb decisions in my life.

Thoughts that I have not landed my dream job or have a job at all in this country popped up. I have not bought a house and even my previous relationships seem like things another version of me did. A version saying, “Yeah, sure I understand the serious implications of attaching myself to this person even though alarm bells are ringing. I can make this work though!”

Today, on our way to Kindergarten, we walked through masses of snow and then the strangest thing happened. Joel ran ahead to catch up with his friend and they chatted about a tree house they want to build in spring. I let my thoughts wander; I am thinking a lot these days.

My family in Germany is going through a pretty rough time. There will be a double-funeral next week. One grandfather passed away on Tuesday this week, the other one today and out of the blue, I remembered something a friend of mine told me a long time ago: “I am not scared of death because once I am dead, I don’t feel anything. I am just not here anymore.” When my mother described how her father took his last breaths and what she told him, I started to cry. She simply told him that it is okay for him to leave, that everything is fine, that he is safe and can meet my other grandfather on the way so they can leave together. With these words, he opened his eyes one more time, took three slow breaths and died. My mom and grandmother held his hand which was still warm for a while after. I felt like I stood over a precipice looking down when my mother and father told me that my grandfather passed away. He is not here anymore. And this is somewhat scary to me. Where is he? Just nowhere? Just nothing? It is over? Is he flying on a cloud in heaven as I tell my son he is? Even though it was expected, it is very sad for everyone. My mind is wrapped around death for the last couple of weeks and these cold, gloomy winter days are not helping.

I know death will also happen to me. Hopefully not today or in the next months, but it WILL happen. I have seen many dead people before when I was a Police Officer but when family members die it is so different. Before, I knew that I will die at some point but I was also ignoring the whole thing by not giving it too much attention. When I was in my twenties, I certainly did not think about death. I thought about a career, traveling and such. I subsequently figured that many awesome things happen before I die and that I don’t have to worry about it because it is so far away.

Recently, a friend of mine struggled with cancer which instantly began to challenge my cool-headedness because I related to her. She passed away shortly after being diagnosed and left a 5-year-old son and husband behind. This made me start to grapple with my own mortality. I do not feel invincible as I used to in my twenties. This friend also told me that I should listen to life advice from people in their 80s and 90s because they are staring death in the face for years. About two years ago, I had a conversation with my grandparents about a school assignment I was struggling with. I told them that I just cannot get through some assignment because it is so much work and sometimes wish my life is over so I don’t have to do this stupid work anymore. “Never wish away your life,” my grandfather told me quietly while shaking his head. Back then I struggled to understand and wondered why he got rather upset but now I see what he meant and I am starting to grasp his point. Soak it all up, even the hard things. I am still alive. He is not.

So how can I move forward without freaking out about death and dying? It works for me when I simply reframe things so that I see life instead of death. Barbara Ehrenreich in Natural Causes writes: “You can think of death bitterly or with resignation, as a tragic interruption of your life, and take every possible measure to postpone it. Or, more realistically, you can think of life as an interruption of an eternity of personal nonexistence, and see it as a brief opportinty to observe and interact with the living, ever-surprising world around us.”

My family is incredibly strong and I love them. Our close relationship grounds me. They listen, understand and give me an anchor that holds me to the present, that keeps me from floating away on thoughts of an unknown future. Even though my world has changed I am not afraid. I am loved. They are alive.