Germany, My Love

The measure of all things is…time. And we may not admit it when we are young, but it’s there…the feeble whisper of a future extraordinary, or otherwise mediocre, that stands postponed until we somehow become aware of it…time.


You might have already experienced it, you may have chosen to ignore it…but it somehow weighs you over: the moment that time becomes a measure of life…that one instant when it actually counts: the hours it takes us to travel by plane instead of by car…the minutes it takes us to get to work by subway instead of a bus…the seconds that somehow only get noticed when we stand in line at the traffic light: 69…68…67…66…65…And I often find myself recollecting on time that once seemed to stand still…endless summers of time so much that one could even share freely…youthful giveaways of time which I would rethink…maybe…if given the chance. And it is not because I haven’t had a beautiful life…but because I would…maybe…like to have more of the beautiful life I’ve had. I’ve never been too good…I’ve never been too bad…I’ve had my share of sunshine…I’ve had my share of storms. I wish I could say time turned me into this better version of myself…but that wouldn’t be true…As much as time gives you experience…it doesn’t change much of who you are. The bitter parts stay the same…all the wrong-doings of others…all that once hurt you…everything is still there…it’s just that…with time…you learn to keep your worst-self out…you learn that you have a choice: the choice to see beauty instead of uproar…the choice to be around people who hang on to you, instead of letting you go.


There is time wasted…and there is tragic waste of time…Time wasted…that’s called youth…Tragic waste of time…that’s you consciously lessening yourself because of people unfit to have you….that’s you forgetting about the miracle that you are because of unworthy idols. The most tragic waste of time is you not taking a chance to change the way you measure your life: not in time… but moments….not in days but sunrises….not in endings…but sunsets. My silence away from all storms…that’s Germany to me…the whereabouts where I practically spent most of my timeless summers when I was little.

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This is a place where…in times of hardship…breakfasts were abundant…sheets were always clean and shopping was out of this world. Germany has always been my one place away from chaos and turmoil…a scene of order, symmetry, neatness…a place that was and is still functioning at its best because of a system. I am a weigher of things. I never go right or left. I do not have a system. I am always in the middle. However, I find it absolutely beautiful…that this place seems to have it all figured out.  Happiness that doesn’t come with havoc, tumult and rebellion….One affair that doesn’t cause imbalance…that’s Germany to me…one system that has its people knowing which way they want to go, what door to open and what doors to leave closed.

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I haven’t been here for a while now…much has changed….the righteousness, the infallibility seem to have somehow faded…but the mechanism….the mechanism behind it all…that’s still going…that’s still the same as it has been for centuries…Sure…some screws and cylinders got replaced…but the mechanism…that’s the same.

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So…coming back to time….Time flows by…And as much as I find it poetic in writing…there is nothing poetic about time in real life…how we are given but spirit, essence and heritage to shelter ourselves from all that time  voraciously destroys on the outside: body, buildings, lands.

 

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