Days merge into each other, there is no beginning, there is no end, it’s a continuum, when I let go it’s hard to tell what is real, what is important, there is no sense of space or belonging, just the need to go on, to not let go. There is no way to bring together and make sense of these days, to see or to explain what binds them together.
There is our event in London with lots of really interested and enthusiastic, but also slightly cynical with the I’ve seen all this before and I already know what’s going to happen next attitude who are in several places all at the same time on their phones, emails, social networks, and in this physical space and reality that becomes less and less important.
Combine all this with a lack of sleep, the phone call to Hamburg and the daily news about how Pádraig is doing, the occasional laissez-faire-overworked-I-can’t-do-more-than-I’m-doing-and-how-would-I-know attitude of people looking after Pádraig, the desperate hope for a miracle, the deep sadness, the realisation that the world keeps spinning ’round, man keeps making plans, God keeps smiling, while you walk down right deep deep down into the centre of the earth on Euston’s Northern Line, one set of steps after another, until you hit rock bottom, literally, then you think you are living the song you’re listening to about feeling like a rolling stone, ready to make a deal.
Pádraig had a good day today and was visibly delighted to see Maria coming over for a week to visit him. His doctor is going to decrease the medication he’s getting to lower the probability of seizures tomorrow. Once he’s sure that Pádraig’s infection is completely gone he’ll also change the catheter again and see whether a less invasive method can be used, hopefully lowering the possibility of infections.
There must have been something in the 1960s in Germany that made people think that 17 was the magic age. I’ve no idea why 17… but there is no doubt that these songs today would border on committing a criminal offence. Here is a selection. The set is worth watching as are the songs worth listening – if for no other reason as for the memories long gone or, if not because of the memories, then just out of curiosity for the unbelievable music of those years…
Udo Jürgens, 17 Jahr blondes Haar
Chris Roberts, Du kannst nicht immer 17 sein
Ivo Robin, Mit 17 fängt das Leben erst an (1961)
Hospi-Tales 
Hi Reinhard
Spotted a mention of Auden in one of your recent posts.
Thought you might like this.
Rónán put Auden’s poem to music along with a few verses written by enda Burns and Mic Chrostopher.
Great poem.
Colm
Beautiful, Colm, thanks for sharing
Colm, I did. Very much so. It is the essence of what a poem should be about, reducing what it deals with to its core. Rónán did a great job putting it to music, the end, with the drums sounds like the saeta de Machado/Serrat (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRgOX70qYh8). – Thank you for sharing that song, Colm.
Even if the knowing that the world keeps turning is often hard on the other side for me I has been a nice feeling because it alse showed to me that you can start again, there is always a posibility of finding our way. no matter what went wrong in the past. Reinhard you have a very stressful live and you deserve a pause.Thanks for sharing with us. Muchos besos y abrazos!!!
Nothing ever ends, Ana, although this is what it looks and feels like at times. In a way, there is no end and no beginning. And there is no way to say, I’m bailing out. You can stop the clocks, like in Auden’s poem, but they’ll always resume ticking. We will always find ways to live our lives, it’s just that sometimes it’s a bit more difficult than at other times. Besos y abrazos, muchos!
Of all the wonderful pieces you’ve written, it truly broke my heart to read this passage. I’m in no position to offer you any words of advice Reinhard, but from where I stand you’ve come so far, dealt with so much and whether you think it or not have become so strong. It’s going to be a battle for a long time, but the world does keep spinning, time will pass and although scary, the uncertainty of the future brings with it so much hope. Just remember you are supported in every way here in Ireland, your story is always being shared, you’re in the thoughts and wishes of so many and we’re with you through everything. Keep writing, keep sharing, keep hoping, keep faith, every day opens new possibilities.
Thank you for your very kind comment, Róisín. I don’t know what to say… The time since Pádraig’s accident has been a time of different kind for me. Not the kind of time like the one that measures your day and your night, or the duration of your working or resting day. It almost lost that function. Day and night, work and rest, hope and despair – it’s that rather than time that seems to determine the rhythm of life…
I really can’t even begin to imagine how such a living feels Reinhard… as if the structure of your life has peeled away like onion skins… as if you’re a ship with a damaged hull. All I can say is not to loose hope. Hope is what’s left to us in the hardest times, it’s what has brought you this far and what will continue to propel you forward.
To borrow a few lines from the writer E.B White, “in a bad time…I shall get up Sunday morning and wind the clock as a contribution to order and steadfastness…things can look dark, then a break comes in the clouds and all is changed sometimes rather suddenly”.
Although you may not feel it at times, you are living a remarkably meaningful life. Your words and actions are inspiring people you’ve never even met (myself a case in point), you have Padraig, family, friends and a whole team of followers thinking and praying and spreading your story more often than you might realise.
For every sceptic and critic, for every person that says they’ve “seen this all before”, for every particularly dark moment you experience, try to keep in mind that there’s a person who has overcome the battle you, your family, friends, followers and Padraig are fighting. I am no doctor and I have no formal qualifications of yet, but I do study neuroscience and an enduring theme within the subject is the plastic property of the human brain. It truly is remarkable how the brain can rewire itself in response to damage given the right environment, plenty of time, support, love and belief. Time is the only thing missing in this equation for Padraig.
“Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.” (E.B. White)
I like the image of the ship with a damaged hull, Róisín. A ship that is, nonetheless, afloat. When I was 17, I bought Ernst Bloch’s “Das Prinzip Hoffnung”, like I bought Bob Dylan’s first record, the books of William Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, and Carlos Castaneda. After many years, I managed to to listen to Dylan. I started “On the Road” (and watched the movie). I read Castaneda’s books. Never managed Bloch. Though I know, it’s hope that keeps us going. Even if it doesn’t make sense. Who cares about sense? I’ll keep winding the clock. For tomorrow is another day.
Ana – is that the “White” you did your PhD about?