Let’s look at an old habit of mine: trying to hide my face in a crowd. As one of more than three million people here, it’s quite easy, so I became even good at it, somehow. (A whole lot easier than to make friends, by the way.) However, I even used to be good at it, sort of, while hanging around with a group I wasn’t yet familiar with.
Me then needed to reduce the “amount of data” coming in, that’s why.
Me now? Looks at a LinkedIn video without a pencil at reach, understanding what it is about anyway. Noticing it’s non-AI for its imperfection admitting something else. Remembering names and their stories.
Back then, however:
Avoiding to look at the others around me.
Avoiding being looked at…
Avoiding the feeling of others‘ eyes on me.
Each time I felt a gaze reaching my direction, even indirectly, such as at a map next to me on a train station, I could only try to figure out what I’d done wrong this time, which might make them pay attention — or why else should they look at me?
Often also, I was trying to use my time on a train reading at any time of the day and at nearly any state of mind and mood.
Really? Really.
Why?
Not just to hide behind papers.
I was afraid of getting distracted.
Now I know: It’s our mind distracting us the most of all.
I was afraid of losing track of things around that I’d hardly ever pause.
So afraid of losing chances even if I’d just get slow on pretty much anything I did.
So afraid of … making mistakes and repeating steps I just took.
By the way:
I guess I know where this hurrying came from, and meanwhile, it almost got fixed.
Back on track if I get rickrolled? Easy in most cases.
Brain offering a funny thought in a serious conversation? Easy in most cases.
Back then, however?
Rickrolled, missing out, skipping info I’d needed.
Trying to keep up with everything while missing out on what truly mattered.
Then suddenly … as if the universe had sent me a signal … things changed me almost unknowingly.
Recently, I understood a lot of things which happened in my childhood and my twenties. Here’s what has opened the door to a dusty shelf of my mind:
A poem about back then — stumbling around on a threshold to a new way of life.
Day by day
Studying was a lonely job
I thought it was okay …
Yes, I teamed up with a few.
Enjoyed filling tutorial sheets in groups
Focused on the logical facts …
Focused on what’s on today’s list …
Studying is going to parties?
Never for me …
or else?
What was I even afraid of?
I guess I know …
Getting distracted …
Not finding the right words …
Not having them at all…
Losing focus?
How could I dare to …
walk a better path …
just by trying for a while?
All day bent over books,
soon knowing all about
initial conditions
of a slope, a pendulum, sunlight and gravity …
studying diffraction
while avoiding distraction …
Day by day
bent over books,
learning for exams to take,
no, not ten minutes of a break …
Still not knowing a good start
of a little conversation
about daylight and daisies
offering some mindful motivation —
unless it was the timetable saying
Show up there, so I did …
Of course I did!
I found good words for a line of worry,
but I kept gazing at checkered paper
to scribble something on
which I …
thought I …
shouldn’t forget …
Also gazed at my sober glass
until it went empty,
like I was, too …
A joke always landed
as insinuation or skit
on my shirt, invisibly like a spot
only I could really see,
not like a ball I could dare
to throw back at them
whimsically
without thereby adding
a needless weight …
Day by day,
I walked the same streets
Upstairs and downstairs,
Waiting at stations,
Around a corner,
Always mind in equations
Tired of thinking,
Yet somehow I got by …
Suddenly my timetable had
Another idea …
Show up, it said,
But not right here:
You have to be brave and go to
a gathering in a grey Berlin quarter
with yellow subways on an old red bridge?
I wrote: I’m in!
It’s famous for its striking looks,
also infamous (or me: biased) for its darker nooks,
an unfamiliar mix of crowd,
some poor, some selling
illegal things, wasn’t it that what I read …?
I went in, it was a cozy little place
somewhat feeling that evening
wouldn’t be that bad actually —
far from that … it was nice!
A newcomer stepped in
said he came from afar
to join us now
The night went by,
talking was fine …
It was already dark,
so we arranged walking back
in a row of three
to the right of which was me
on an almost empty
left-side pavement …
Steps and words mingled
under the old street lights
Then …
A soft ticking sound,
some … crackling leaves
Of course I noticed.
A bicycle approached,
not even a thin light;
alone, looking cheap, unimposing,
but somewhat special anyway, why?
Not ringing the bell if it had one
but he gave a whistle,
not after me, oh no … or was it …?
Me neither daring to
look closely
or even guess he knows me …
It seemed as if he might live nearby …
Day by day,
always mind in equations
so tired of thinking,
yet somehow I got …
head over heels in science
on a next brilliant idea …
… which didn’t work.
Of course it didn’t.
I knew it …
But it made me learn the most!
Day by day …?
Another of those
evenings in the old,
unknown quarter of town I …
I found myself
abandoning reading, instead
gazing off the window
I simply had to …
On a renewed interchange station
As if something there pulled me
As if … I felt forlorn, but also
As if … I was searching for a lost one
Although I
didn’t know that they even existed …
My brain, focused on a known circle,
it got, I might even say, twisted …
How could I trace an image in a crowd
there at all …
how could something remind me of
something I didn’t know
or did I?
And somehow, between books and trains, life refused to look that ordinary, stopped haunting me with all of my old habits, instead added some sparks of creativity, made it fun to share a smalltalk on a table, made me think of song lyrics happening to be true even if I could only think of it theoretically.
Until next time!
The settings are different, which I’ll have to test a bit. I hope you can still comment on my post that way!
This time, there is some extra content below this line: I made a voiceover of this poem!
Recorded only once.
“Avoiding to look at the others around me.
Avoiding being looked at…” those two lined slaps me hard
Good writing 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
Daniela this poem was outstanding, lyrical and an honor to read. I too enjoyed hearing your voice. Going on this journey as a visitor felt like a privilege.