I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling.
Frida Kahlo

Sorrows generally don’t disappear. They learn how to swim when you try to drown them. They survive.

But then, somehow, and alongside those ever-lasting sorrows, something decent, good, and beautiful can emerge. Nobody better to tell us about it than Frida Kahlo. She had a very difficult life with great pain, periods of deep depression, and a passionate but complicated relationship with Diego Rivera.

She did not overcome pain by making it disappear; she confronted it, painted it and incorporated it into her identity. Her art repeatedly transforms the injured body into something vivid, beautiful, humorous and defiant. It’s when we stop trying to escape but learn how to live with sorrows, that we realise: life continues – with all its beauty, decency, and moments of happiness.

We’re back in Tating.

And back in Garding on Tuesday evenings at the Musikantenfest – though a more appropriate name would probably be Rockfest. There are always three parallel stages. Last Tuesday, on two of them the bands were playing a song by Rio Reiser’s “Ton Steine Scherben”, one of the defining German rock bands from the 70s. One was playing Junimond, the other Keine Macht für Niemand. It was a time when Germany and the Germans had not really dealt with their past. When children found it hard to understand that the older generations had allowed this most horrible period in German history, perhaps in history – and the older generation just went quiet, out of guilt, perhaps shame – or both.

In any case, last Tuesday felt like time travel.

And there was this “Gang” again. I have a feeling that I took a picture of Germany’s narrowest road a million times.

I like this one as, to me, the two ladies with the nordic walking sticks seem to wonder whether they should venture a walk through the Pannmeistergang or whether it would be safer not too.

The sign says: Only for Pedestrians, Nur für Fußgänger – presumably to stop drivers trying to give it a go!?

When we are not at a rock concert in Garding, we go for walks, try to eat well, sleep, and spend time together. A couple of times a week, an OT Pádraig has been working with for several summers joins us. We have time to support Pádraig using communication tools, going beyond choosing from a pre-defined set of answers, but spelling them out.

We also met our local GP, just to check in. He gave us a few tips this year, and he explained why, in his view, some clinicians and providers have trouble providing an adequate service to people like Pádraig.

He said that they are just “überfordert”. Overwhelmed, out of their depth, not able to cope, or out of their league. How well I know that feeling! Do you?

It makes perfect sense. Simple. I will remember it – instead of becoming desperate in the face of that lack of understanding, I will remember that, most likely, nobody ever prepared those whose profession is to care, to care for people like Pádraig. (I won’t speculate here about the reasons why they weren’t prepared.)

I like Rio Reiser’s approach: Let’s tear down the walls that divide us. Come together, people—get to know one another. (Reißen wir die Mauern ein, die uns trennen. Kommt zusammen, Leute, lernt euch kennen.)

When we stop trying to drown our sorrows and, instead. learn to live with them. In community. Together. And care for one another.

Then we’ll realise that life goes on – with all its challenges and with all its beauty.