love and fools

Is it a coincidence that the holiday for fools and the holiday for lovers are at the same time of year?

Today is the end of carneval, here on the west side of the Rhein. It has been a month of craziness, lots of partying, and many people running around the streets dressed foolishly. I was part of that group last Thursday, for the Alt Weiber Fastnacht (old maids carnival). I went with some fun mädels (young-at-heart- women) led by minnie.

The silliness started at 11am I, dressed up in my fave pink wig and a crazy dress, had to stop first at the bank before meeting up with the others. On the street, people started yelling, ‘hello! hello!’. I thought, ‘well, isn’t that friendly’. So, I returned the hellos. After about the 5th or 6th person it finally clicked that they weren’t saying ‘hello’, but rather ‘Helau!’ the hearty greeting of carnival here. What a fool.

I arrived at the café only to find that the mädels were accidentally all wearing the same black sheep costume. Sheep costumes are very popular, and I have absolutely no idea why. I began to think where I could possibly find some sort of shepherd’s staff, you know then I could be their foolish-looking shepherdess. To no avail. In the end though, nobody really cares what you look like, cause they are just focusing on not falling over.

It all starts with the number ‘11’ here. Back in the early 1800’s, Napoleon’s cry for ‘Egalité, Liberté, Fraternité - "equality, liberty, fraternity" reached the west side of the Rhein. The citizens here were finally able to enjoy freedom of speech and expression under French rule. After Napoleon’s defeat however, the conservative German returned everything back to normal...for most of the year. Using the number ‘11’, as inspiration for everything carneval-related, taken from the first letter of each of Napoleon’s famous words, in German spelling the word for ‘11’-elf, the citizens ‘secretly’ formed the council of fools, 11 elected men who set the carneval calendar and plan all the crazy fools balls and parades. They use this time, disguised in costume, to ‘rebel’ against the regime; to say and do whatever they feel like, making fun of politicians and clergy, and each other. Where the cry ‘Helau!’ comes from, nobody really seems to know.

In honour of Valentine’s day, which I happened to cruise over, here are 11 ways ‘to love’ in 2 words:

1) dig deep
2) keep creating
3) make something
4) laugh together
5) be kind
6) smile often
7) be strong
8) and bend
9) give/take
10) count blessings
11) say thank you (sorry, that’s three...but it might also be the most important)

plus 1 foolishly simple, yet profoundly great quote:

‘true happiness is sustainable delight in the beautiful moments of ordinary life.’
-Martha Beck.

go forth and love, you fools!

to rock or not to rock

Okay, so I expected a little too much from said party. Or, is it that I let myself get too affected by what others say to me…by the ‘bad’ news that I hear. Take Whitney Houston’s death for example. I have been thinking about it’s suddenness since Dora stepped through our door yesterday morning and said ‘Whitney Houston ist gestorben’.

Why am I so impacted by the negative things others do in their lives…by the seedy, dark, lonely, secretive, destructive? All of the things which I panic about possibly experiencing, or in some cases, experiencing again, in my own life and relationship. Maybe, that’s it. I forecast it all onto my life…and it scares me.

So, as great guy and I arrived at rock’n roller’s chaulk-a-block (for all those Don McSweeney fans), packed 50th birthday party on Friday night, I immediately received some not-so-great info from one of my friends…and it killed my party mood. Before that, as we were getting ready, great guy and I had been blasting George Michael, dancing around the stellwerk (well, I was dancing) and we were having a great pre-party time. This specific news doesn’t even have anything to do with me, but ‘wow’ I could not stop worrying about it, thinking about it, until poor Whitney took it’s place in my head on Sunday.

Great guy and I did manage to enjoy the shit-shaking tunes and all the tasty food which julchen made at the party. The guests bobbed along to the music in the still-being-renovated empty flat in great guy’s haus. We had some ‘champagne’ and snuggled close among the very varied rockers, who we mostly didn’t know.

The weekend’s reveling carried on with a visit from Mickey and Minnie on Saturday night. The evening ended with Mickey running across the river at midnight, chasing an angry swan, until he wiped out on the ice. We watched from our side, ready to call someone (who?) if he fell through the ice. He had brought with him some new wine, which is being bottled this week, and he seems to be very, very impressed with the new batch. He wasn’t spitting it out.

Sometime during the evening Mickey came up with a new word, ‘abgerockt’, which I think means ‘danced out, so tired from rocking that you can’t rock anymore’. Somehow this word reminds me of Friday night. I think I need to focus on the things that I can control, and how I impact a situation positively or negatively, and not worry so much about what others are doing.

Wishing rock’n roller another rocking 50 years…and hope he isn’t or won’t be abgerockt soon.