And so once again I end up in a state where I’ve got so overwhelmingly much to say that nothing at all comes out. I just don’t know where to begin. So many wonderful, strange, chaotic, confusing, interesting, painful and joyous things have happened to and around me the past month that everything is just a blur of thoughts and emotions. Some things might have gone according to plan, but for the most part I didn’t really have a plan to begin with. How do you plan for life? More and more it seems to me that the best and most interesting things are the ones that just happen by some strange coincidence or impulse.
Like when I went to Belgium on tour with the orchestra, in the beginning of June. (Fear not, I shall spare you an all-too-lengthy travel blog this time.) We played a concert in Gent and went touristing in Brussels. I went sightseeing and had fun along with some nice orchestra-people, yet I think my favourite part of the journey was actually the very last day, which I spent mostly on my own. I got up early, several hours before check-out and before any of my roommates were awake, pulled on my sneakers and headphones, and went out for a run in the chilly morning air. I ran along the canale, crossing streets and bridges, over jetties and through parks. I skipped over water-puddles, ran past people who stared at me with a smile on my face, stopped to play around in playgrounds, laughed at some nice street-art, and enjoyed myself immensely. I think I have found a new favourite way of discovering a city.
Then at lunch-time me and some friends from the orchestra were sitting out in the sunlight at a café, enjoying breakfast or juice or coffee, respectively. The café was located at one of the most crowded street-crossings in Brussels. All of a sudden, a bunch of people ran out into the street, in front of the cars, spread out blankets, and sat down to have picnic. By and by more people showed up and joined in. A band took out their instruments and started playing. Someone brought a table for table-tennis, and soon people were playing. Rolls of fake grass were rolled out, people mounted up parasols and lay down to read books. Crayons were brought forth, and children and grown-ups started drawing on the street. There was a rainbow flag and lots of peace and love. Nobody was angry or shouting, strangers were hugging each other. The police got there and re-directed the traffic so that the manifestation could continue. I finished writing my postcards and couldn’t help but joining in. I spent my last few hours of the trip drawing on the streets of Brussels, talking and laughing with and getting hugged and kissed by strangers. Making art. Pretty much having the time of my life.
I wrote
Stop pretending art is hard
and
You are what you grow into
and I drew a bunch of flowers and hearts and abstract colourful patterns. (If you pick up the song references just like that I love you so much.) After a while I learned that the manifestation was a recurring one with the aim of making the public spaces of Brussels more bicycle-friendly. I can totally get behind that. I happen to live in the most bicycle-friendly town of Sweden, and still this place could get better. If all cities became half as good, though, the world would for certain be a better place.
The evening of the bus-ride home was spent in interesting conversation, and so the very good day ended on a happy note. I fell asleep with my body uncomfortably oriented in a bus seat, but with my mind at ease, my inner idealist content. I got home, and hade more adventures. Magical ones, really. But I think that is a story for another time. I shall go to bed now, while this state of low-key euphoria still lasts. I don’t know when I’ll write again, but when I do there will surely be a story to tell.
Love and a wonderful life,
Winterdragon
