Direkt zum Hauptbereich

What I notice, when I am still

Sometimes, I wake up and immediately start to write in my disco notebook. It is silver and it glitters so much, it could blind you actually. I got it from my friend Greta Brinkman, a bass goddess and one of my oldest friends. We have been roommates too. She is cool. Which you can tell, since she knows to give me disco notebooks!
Sometimes, right after waking up, sipping my coffee, I find my thoughts so deep and profound and interesting, that I feel the total urge to share them here with you all. Maybe I should not do that, but I can not restrain myself. So, take this, people and have a great day!

What I notice, when I am still

The cat purring beside me. He sounds like a tractor or a car engine. Content.
I hear a little sound in my ears, a quiet sound. I call it stillness. Its where I dive into, whenever I sit on my zafu, or wherever I happen to remember, that this little sound is my home, is really everything I need. When I am still, which I hardly ever am, which I try to be nevertheless as often as possible, because it is total bliss, I love myself and everybody, everything else. I know then how much I really am part of everybody else – even the refugees from Syria, the aborted second children from China and the midwifes helping to keep them from being born, the Dalai Lama too, not just bad stuff. Good bad, no difference. That’s the truth in the depth of my stillness. I am part of the elephants in Kenia, threatened to be extinguished by greed, I am the greed too, but I am also love, pure and clear. I am Auschwitz, I was there, the young jewish mother, the young gipsy girl, the gay man, I was killed, I was raped, I starved, I was the SS man, and the capitalist making tons of money from my slave labour, I am the German pretending to have noticed nothing out of the usual – when I am still, when I know all this, you might think, I am unhappy, but no, this is happiness, total bliss. Good, bad, evil, no difference. Not in the sense, don’t get me wrong, of it doesn’t matter. But in the sense of: deep down we are all one, there is no separation. Love. Breathe into this, and try to do your best. That’s all.

When I am still, which I hardly ever am, I have this constant list of things to do in my head. Its running on autopilot: clean the bathroom, go outside for a walk, write your novel, write another poem, tend to your garden, do nothing for a change, grocery shopping!!!! breathe more evenly for heavens sake, drink water, brush your teeth, get dressed…..the list is never ending and renews itself every second. List of duties, mostly self created. My discipline is to become a better person, to stop gossiping, to stop producing more negativity, which is not at all about hurting people: you can be the most loving and positive person in the world, you will still hurt others. It is rather about being true. When I am still, I hear that little voice. It comes after I listened a while to that sound, the quiet one, in my ears. I can really count on this voice always knowing exactly what to do next (nothing?) The thing which amazes me most about this voice is, that it knows every answer to every question, to every problem and it doesn’t even have to think about it. The answers come seemingly out of nowhere, but of course, they do come out of the depth of that little sound I call stillness. I know everything will always fall into place if I dare remaining in the company of that sound, wherever.

© Susanne Becker


Beliebte Texte

Travelling Home

You are like a foreign country. I do not speak your language. Drowning in your eyes, which I can not read. What you do, goes right through me, cuts me open, I think, I might lose myself, in you, which is a story about you, which is a story about myself.
The first time we sat in a train, you sat across from me, told me about your life. I knew, I would rather not leave the train, ever. What feels like home? Riding around Berlin in a train, listening to your story, swimming in your eyes away from what I knew as home, but was not. Never could be, because I moved in, when I was a stranger to myself.
Every plastic flower on the table, in the vietnamese restaurant, remember? was the most beautiful thing, I ever laid my eyes on. Of course you. The shabby plastic table. The pho was very good! Best soup, I ever tasted, while locking myself into your universe.
You are like a foreign country. I travel you, and while getting lost, again, I find so much about myself, I never knew existed.…

Asymmetrie von Lisa Halliday

"He called her mermaid. She didn't know why."
Gerade habe ich Asymmetrie von Lisa Halliday beendet und vielleicht ist es eines der Bücher, das mich am stärksten aus meiner „comfort zone“ katapultiert hat. Weil eine amerikanische, weiße, im Grunde privilegierte Frau, die in der Literaturwelt arbeitet, ihren Horizont so derart transzendiert, dass es sie in die Lage versetzt, mit der Stimme eines irakisch-amerikanischen Mannes zu schreiben, der am Londoner Flughafen davon abgehalten wird, in Großbritannien einzureisen. Dabei möchte er dort nur zwei Tage bleiben, seinen Freund Alastair, einen Kriegsjournalisten, treffen und dann, über Istanbul, weiter in den Irak reisen. Aber man lässt ihn nicht. Er hat zwei Pässe. Er ist auch Iraker. Irakisch ist eine der verdächtigen Nationalitäten. Terroristen sind Iraker. Die Geschichte dieses Mannes, seiner Familie, ein Teil der Geschichte des Irak macht aber erst den zweiten Teil dieses wunderbaren Buches aus. Im ersten Teil hat die I…

Anke Stelling, Schäfchen im Trockenen

"Wir sind Opfer. Und unseres Glückes Schmied! Wir machen uns gut in egal welcher Kulisse, sind die Protagonisten unseres Lebens."

Anke Stellings neues Buch Schäfchen im Trockenen habe ich verschlungen. Es ist großartig geschrieben und mit seiner Handlung so nah am Leben dran, wie man es selten findet, an dem Hier und Jetzt von mir und vielen meiner Freunde, die mit Kindern und der existentiellen Unsicherheit mitten in Berlin, mitten in einer großen Stadt in Europa leben, wo Neoliberalismus und Kapitalismus die Werte vorgeben und man, plant man schlecht, auch sehr leicht unter die Räder kommen kann. Vielleicht vor allen Dingen dann, wenn man sich dem Leben mit Chuzpe und offenen Armen, voller Vertrauen, ein wenig ausliefert. Hier springe ich vom Zehnmeterbrett, mach' mit mir, was Du willst, Du verrücktes Leben!
Resi ist Schriftstellerin. Sie lebt mit ihrer Familie in Berlin und hat ein Buch über ihre Freunde geschrieben, die im Rahmen einer Baugruppe ein tolles eigenes Hau…