What’ll you do now?

•October 27, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son ?
And where have you been my darling young one ?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue eyed son ?
And what did you see, my darling young one ?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son ?
And what did you hear, my darling young one ?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’
I heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet my blue-eyed son ?
Who did you meet, my darling young one ?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded in hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

And what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son ?
And what’ll you do now my darling young one ?
I’m a-goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are a many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my songs well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

What would you do?

•April 30, 2011 • Leave a Comment

there is just so much pressure in my head, so, let me get off some steam here please.
the point is, I do have to choose. Lucky me – I do HAVE the choice, compaired to others who would be happily everafter, if they would only have one of the possibilities, that I have.
So, there are several opened doors infront of me, every one of them, leads me to where I wish to go to, but in different ways and forms.
I should choose as fast as possible – concidering, that the more I wait, the more tensed and sad I become; It takes a lot of energy, all that estimating, thinking and evaluating. I get tired and I hate myself for letting myself go like that. Being impacted so much, I turn and turn and at the same time, keep standing still at one point.
On the one hand, the choice is really difficult. tons and thousands of pro- and contra-arguments for each choice are mixed in my head. Even, I already made lists and ideamaps and -plots, trying to clear my mind. The choice is also that difficult for me, since a lot of persons have expectations, or wishes, which choice I should or shouldn’t take. Sure, it should be my own choice, however, as a human being I will always have my social surrounding impacting my thoughts. Right now, it is really hard to switch off all the voices other people have put into my head. And I know, that some of them, will view my choice as measured value of my feelings for them. ‘What would you do? Try to put yourself into my position.’, I ask. And the answer is, ‘I can not say, what I would do, since I don’t know, how strong your feelings are for me….’
No, does not put any pressure upon me at all.
I can hardly hear my own mind or even know, what it is telling me. Other’s opinions, minds and voices became so loud, I now even lost my stomach feeling, my intuition.
It might not matter at all, where I will go to, but at the same time, it will change everything.

when men cry…

•March 25, 2011 • Leave a Comment

The whole morning had been quite busy:
I arrived early at work, earlier than normal. Colleagues were hurrying arround like super-busy bees, blueish bees in funny surgery sterile clothes… So I put on my blue clothes aswell and joined them, trying to improve the busy atmosphere and discharge the others stress a bit.
Time was rushing, and after some hours we finally were ready for Mrs K and her husband to come down into the delivery room. Mrs K was about to get a planned C-section, she was a bit nervous on the first impression, when they were waiting to be prepaired for the operating room. Very spontanously and decided by one doctor, Mrs K had to get a general anesthetic. Meaning that her husband could not be with her in the operating room to support her.
I was waiting outside, doing some other work, when I suddenly ran into Mr K, sitting on the side of one of our delivery rooms, desperately staring on the ground. I was surprised, because I expected him to be with his wife. I stoped and started to talk to him. However, I first thought that he might have left the operating room because he got sick or dizzy by seeing the operation process. But then I quickly realized, he was in deep worries about his wife. He was helpless and further more, not close to with his wife in that very important moment.
Mr K told be, that it should be his wife’s first baby, or better said, her first living baby. Some years ago, she had already been pregnant. But before the baby was mature enough to be born, it died. Nonetheless Mrs K gave birth to the baby in the normal way. She took her time with the baby, held it, buried it, said goodbye. Everafter that stillbirth, it was a very delicate and sensible topic for Mrs K and also, it took her a long time to become pregnant again. When they finally succeeded, Mrs K was very worried and insecure during the whole pregnancy, fearing, that something could happen again. And now, she was lying alone in the operation room…
While Mr K told me their story, he had tears in his eyes, his voice was weak and trembling. He told me, that all he wished was just a healthy vital baby and that his wife will be fine aswell.
Suddenly, during our conversation, I heard a newborn screaming two doors away. I immediately turned towards Mr K, lying my hand on his shoulders and telling him with a warm smile: ‘Listen – that is your daughter’…
In that moment, Mr K had all imaginable emotions in his face expressed – first of all gratefullness and love, exposed by the tears his eyes could not hold anymore…
… Sofie was vital and rosy, crying and loud, as if she wanted to show, that she was strong and wanted to be alive. She calmed down after 15 minutes, when she was lying on her father’s naked warming chest, being held tight and loved.

springbreak

•March 4, 2011 • Leave a Comment

‘It has been 6 weeks now. And everytime I see you, you make me nervous – as you did on the first day and as you do now’, he said.
She responded, ‘Lay your hands into mine, I’ll calm you down’.
‘As you did on the first day and as you will do now….’, he smiled.

Sweet Memory
talking ’bout a sweet memory
it goes round and round in my head
pretty soon I want the real thing instead
but for now I got this sweet memory
sunny day sunny day
not a cloud crosses the sky
not a tear comes to my eye
sweet memory

Melody Gardot – Sweet Memory

Big Ben

•February 19, 2011 • 1 Comment

both delivery-rooms of our hospital were occupied, when my shift started. Ines and her boyfriend were quite happy, that she finally started to be in labour without medical influence. two days before, her doctor made a diagnosis for Ines to get a C-section, because her baby did not turn in the right way, necessary for a natural birth. I sat on Ines’ side, meanwhile her boyfriend took a rest. she told me about her pregnancy and that her baby, a boy, should be named ‘Ben’.
Some hours later, Ben was born, I took him to the other delivery room, to mesure and bath him, and put him on his first cloths. Claudia, who was also expecting her baby in the next hours, and her husband were all excited about the youngborn, fullfilled with anticipation for their own son, who would be born in the next hours. Claudia and her husband were making a big secret out of the future name of thei son. It should be a surprise for the moment their son would make the first cry of his life.
But when they saw me bathing Ines’ new born son and writing his name ‘Ben’ on his documents, Claudia and her husband could not resist and said immediately, ‘Ben? that’s the name? But that’s just how we planned to name our son!’
3 more hours and strained moments later, Ben (Claudia’s baby) the second baby of that day was born. Claudia and Ines were doing great, aswell as their partners.

I wonder, if the two Bens will meet one day by accident, discovering, that they were born both at the same day in the same hospital with just two hours difference…

Sheet upon sheet

•February 2, 2011 • Leave a Comment

The snow is folding – sheet upon sheet, layer upon layer.
Back in the favorite movie, ‘Dead’s poets society’,I find myself walking around and in-between college yards and houses. Temples of wisdom, halls of books and science, what a privilege to study, live here or even to see this. Though, I might feel not so comfortable studying here, golden cage or elite bubble in a way. Sure, a place where science and history happens, I do honor and respect.
Harvard; Cambridge

What I wanted to write you…

•January 22, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Distanced  respect, just what I needed. Why does it normally move on so fast or even rush? Maybe that is old-fashion-conservative, what I am prefering, but then I am just not made for modern times
concerning the get-to-know-eachother, I guess…

 
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