Brace Others, Not Yourselves

There is a tragic phenomenon that seeps into the minds of us all. It deals with our ever-present nature and desire to achieve reciprocation in all things. I don't believe it's ever too much to know that you are loved. I don't believe it's ever too much to know that you've done a good job. I don't even think it's too much for us to remind each other--while things are going well--that we want to be called on the next time we are needed. I suppose a similar concept affects whether or not I write to you. I haven't written lately because I don't think you're reading; but perhaps you aren't reading because there is nothing to read. See where I am going here? It wasn't until my dear friend Elise encouraged me to write that I decided she, and perhaps others, might still want to know what is going on. But how else do we know such things unless we are told? There are far too many critics in this world, and I love the thought of a body of people who prompt and encourage one another to adopt an active role.

I have finished my first semester of classes...almost. Since February the 7th I have not been attending any formal lecture, but I have had a few papers to work on, my last being due February the 21st. We are in the midst of Fasching celebrations here--crazy costumes, Krapfen, and lots of people. On Fat Tuesday I'll be doing some tour with other JYMers that begins at 8:30am. We will "kostumieren" ourselves first, however. I have no idea what to expect. I'm trying hard to get this paper hanging over my head finished, but it's so tough because we are essentially already on break. Do you know that I am heading to Barcelona shortly? It's true! I'm quite excited, and the day after my return my best friend Jonathan will be visiting me. I'm more excited about my visitor than I am about going somewhere to visit, but I suppose you just can't compare the two.

I went to a show/concert Monday night that I really enjoyed. It was electronic music, even though one of my JYM mates described it as instrumental. I suppose that counts, but I went there thinking I was going to hear some Bach. The venue was smokey and loud and someone burned my arm with their cigarette. Too bad I'm not Terminator, because when that happens to him he's not phased in the least. I, on the other hand, screamed and was mad I had nothing cold to put on my arm. I've had enough of the smoke here. I've already got my share of scars on both my feet--I'm not really looking to add to the scar count!

A story: please read the title of this entire entry if you've not yet done so. (Okay, ready now?) Last Saturday I was working on a paper at a cafe near the Universität. A woman, who reminded me of my brother's friend Daniel's mom, had a dog with her and was also hard at work. I was writing a paper for my literature class, which translated is titled: The Simplemindedness of Man; The Omnipotence of God. As I wrote, while eating, while person-watching (my utmost favorite multi-tasking combination) I noticed this woman's bracelet with several small ichthus images. My wise friend Kirsten once told me (if I remember correctly) that in old times, as two people would converse, a Christian would nonchalantly mark half of the fish with his foot in the sand, and if the other were also a Christian, he would signify this by completing the second half of the fish with the swoop of his foot in the sand. I thought and still think this is fascinating.

I was wishing the same for myself. I wished I could just go up to this 'stranger' and say, "Hey lady...I know what you know." But I imagine if stuck my finger in her coffee and made this curved shape, that might not go over so well. So I just let things be.

But yesterday was different. Yesterday, nearly a week later, I was back again and ready to work. And would you know it, the only table available was across from a man and a woman and a dog. I should mention, this woman was the same as the one I just earlier described. Surely I took note of this, but again, what was I to do? I found the man to be fairly attractive for a German in his 40s. I noticed myself continually looking up at them, curious about what they were up to. Tons of books were on the table, and I would have given much to know what they were working on. The man and I exchanged friendly smiles whenever we noticed each other. I imagine he heard me speaking english with my friend Kelly and in some way that must have sparked an equal amount of curiosity.

An hour or so later, for a split second of time, I saw it again. It? He wore a bracelet. His, however, was red. Amazing that I noticed it--his sleeves were quite long, and it was only because the dog had stood up to get some lovin' and the man's long sleeves no longer hid his wrist. It was even dark under the table, but it still caught my eye. So I sat there for the next half an hour or so, wrestling with my thoughts: "Do I say something?-No, don't say anything, what do you think you're going to say?--Just say something! It's harmless!--They're going to think you're weird. Do I even know how to say bracelet? Why do you always feel compelled to tell people what you're thinking?"

As odd as it sounds, I knew if I didn't say anything I'd regret it. The woman got up and left, and I didn't realize they were leaving-leaving. So as the man packed up, I thought, okay, here goes. (German): Excuse me--I just wanted to say that I like your bracelet. He looked at me, kind of a look like "how did she see I was wearing one?" and after looking at his wrist and back at me, he thanked me. "Do you want it?" I start laughing. "No, no! I just wanted to say that I liked it."-"No really, you can have it! I have more at home. It's no problem." I start laughing harder. My face now burning and my thoughts relieved that the intense red walls and red lighting concealed my blushing cheeks. "No no. Last week I saw hers, and it was green. So I just wanted to say that it was nice." He had still been holding it out, and put it on the table. "Do you know what it means?" He really meant it. He wanted to make sure I knew, and I did. I smiled with a smile to say "Hey man...I know what you know." And he wished us a good day and left. I, of course, continued laughing.

My friend Kelly said much she likes nice people, and I agreed. I felt bad because I didn't mean to disrupt her work at all, but it was yet another refreshing moment of generosity. Even the fact that he stayed there long enough to have a conversation with me, before I even got the words out, says something about that man's character. I am pleased this is new memory that will forever be stored on the good list of Munich moments dwelling in my thoughts. The funny thing is, I didn't even really like the aestethics of this bracelet. I just liked what it represented. It wouldn't have ever thought this man should offer me something of his, but I loved the fact that he expressed interest in making sure I actually knew what it meant.

And back to the idea and lessons of reciprocity: It is better to give than to receive. This man freely gave what had been given to him; he wanted nothing in return.

Pictures:
-Tulips that Rachel's aupair family's mom gave to me for Valentine's Day.
-Pics from Rachel's birthday celebration.
-Randoms. I wish I were an artist.