Birds

Dear fellow travelers,

Today, a bird was sitting on our balcony. Not one of those cute morning birds that chirp cheerfully away. But one that looked like it was in a bad mood and wanted everyone to know it. It just sat there. Staring at me. Not moving.

In the past, I probably would have tried to figure out what that meant. This time, I just thought, " Interesting."

Then I made myself some coffee and ate some cheese. When I looked again, the bird was gone. It had left behind a little pile of poop.

Some things just work themselves out.

*

Yesterday I drove across the runway in Neubiberg. And I screamed with joy. Really!

Because butterflies were flying right next to me. Because crows were gliding through the air. Because children and teenagers were racing across the former runway.

I think that's exactly why I love the runway. It reminds me that things don't always have to stay what they were originally intended to be.

Something else arrived that same day, too: Merkén's outfit—or at least the idea for it.

Something unique and yet universal. A vest. A hat. Leather. Feathers. A touch of Chile. A touch of a campfire.

Later that evening, I sat with my boyfriend listening to Brazilian music. Or rather, he was listening to music. I was dancing and designing a headpiece at the same time.

This happens to me quite often. While others are listening to the concert, my brain suddenly starts designing a crown.

For a long time, I thought my spaceship needed planetary orbits. Now I know: it needs an open crown. Like a pineapple. Like a Venus flytrap. Like Carnival in Rio. A window to the sky. Open. Welcoming. Joyful.

In my sessions, I often say: Let roots grow out of your feet. Open the crown of your head like a window to the sky.

Maybe the headpiece had been there all along. I just hadn't noticed it yet.

*

What's really touching me these days is something else: Summer has arrived. Not just outside. Inside me, too.

Suddenly, I'm out and about. Almost every day. The lake. A barbecue. A picnic. Baile Funk. A Passinho workshop. A sound bath. People. Music. Water. Laughter.

I didn't plan any of this. It just happened. It was as if life had decided at some point: Enough with the building. Now it's time to live.

I can tell because I've started singing again. On my bike. Without even thinking about it. Or making bird noises. My boyfriend hasn't been surprised by anything for a long time now.

I think that's true love.

Perhaps that is the real insight of this early summer: that not everything needs to be explained. Not every encounter. Not every bird. Not every twist and turn.

Sometimes it's enough just to eat some cheese. Drink some coffee. Sing while riding a bike. And let summer in.

With love and on this first real summer morning,
Jeannette