It’s a month away from my birthday, my 42nd birthday.
And my English grandmother, Grandmummy, died exactly a decade ago.
I can still remember that day: it was a weekend day (Saturday, I think). I was living in Barcelona with my ex-partner at the time and we went out for a long walk that afternoon; he took me, or went with me, walking around the Ciutat Vella to help try and soothe me. Among other things, we stopped at a cafe/bakery that I had been eyeing for a while because I was curious to taste one of their cakes. So we finally went there that afternoon and I got the cake I had wanted to try. I can remember the fact clearly, the location & atmosphere vaguely, the cake not at all.
Today I got my first postcard at my “new” place, at this place that has been increasingly my home since this past April, for six months now… It’s a postcard from New York City sent to me from a good, old German friend from my “Ulm days”, over a decade ago. Back then, she used to call me by my given name and use the feminine when referring to me in German (which has a very gendered/-ing grammar). But now she calls me by my chosen name and flexes the German grammar to use gender-neutral/non-binary forms that align with my gender identity.
I miss Europe (& my European friends).
On my way back from my recent work trip in Minneapolis I did a thought experiment (Gedankenexperiment, as a “good old” physicist!) imagining myself moving back to Europe, i.e. literally packing & shipping boxes of my belongings, flying back with suitcases of my stuff to stay there. And my whole body & soul balked at the idea, at the mere thought of it. So I know that my longing for, or missing, Europe is NOT in the sense or to the extent of actually moving back there (at least, not now as long as I’m still relatively young & healthy). But I am ready and eager to go back to visit as soon as possible — I can feel that. There are places and friends that I want to see again, and see them as soon as possible. Europe & being half European is a huge part of me, not only of my identity but of my soul. A German friend once said to me (in German, of course!): “You have a German soul”. And I believe she was right about that.
I have started re-reading Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, a book I’ve read at least half a dozen times since the first time I read it while in Singapore, during my PhD, in August 2008. As my housemate put it, it’s become a “practice” for me, like meditation or yoga practice or some ritual. Yes, and now I need this specific book, this specific practice, this specific ritual, to help me reconnect with my deepest self, with the most authentic part of my core identity, as I navigate this phase of existential questions around my professional career, my geographic identity & longings, my needs & feelings & desires about relationships, my relationship to/with Love — maybe even my whole path & life overall.
In a month I’ll turn 42. In Douglas Adams’s hilarious & excellent sci-fi series of the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, 42 is the “ultimate answer” to the “ultimate question”…
Will I find then some answers about my own self, my path, my life?
The Little Prince and the Fox 