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Life is too short for boring stories

„Sabrina had become a businesswoman and Sarah an artist. So, they had found their way, and gone, each in their own way, but they had one thing in common, consistency and stamina. Sabrina is the woman of numbers, Sarah the one of pictures and colors. Never, so my impression, did they look back and never could anything else have been imaginable, even imaginable, then the very way they have gone. I admit it frankly, I admired, yes, sometimes I envied her for this certainty and doubtfulness. In all their self-imposed dependency they had this freedom ahead of me, the freedom to move within the bounds of their decision. But I, I never made that decision for myself.

For a while I moved in the science field. Everyone was satisfied with me, but not me, because very soon I came to the limits of the scientific, the knowingly available. So narrow is the circle of what is weighable, measurable, tangible, and I wanted to go beyond that and put myself out of it. So, I decided to take my life, right, honest, compact. I wanted to touch and touch, feel and breathe. So, I became a gardener. It really means tackling and being in the midst of being connected to the earth and all that the earth gives us. I was quite satisfied with that, for a while, I think. Loving nature and freedom, I experienced here, but that was too little with time. Of course, that too was a responsibility, but there was no response. So, I started again to find a new job and found it in social engagement, worked with the elderly and the homeless, and put them to the margins of society, the young, the successful and the beautiful wants to see, and marginalize all who disturb the image and are not consumers. I let myself be dragged in and out, letting myself in until I was really one of them, but when I got to that point, I realized I was no help, only compassionate. So, I picked myself up again and tried to get involved in politics, where the framework conditions for all these people could be improved, but that was the quickest way to get rid of myself, because nowhere else is so much focused on one’s own Advantage paid, nowhere else so little to others and their needs thought. And now, here I am, looking back on a colorful rug of experiences, a single patchwork quilt, and I still do not know where I belong or what my talent is.“, and with that she concluded her narrative. I had listened attentively and understood.

„Get up, step back, and then look again at your carpet of life,“ I told her.
„You are right, suddenly a path emerges, a continuous, recognizable, probably rather intricate, but still a path, framed by many colorful, vivid images.“, she suddenly discovered, „But still, why does not she have any advice given, my mother? „she added thoughtfully.
„Because you can advise anyone, because only you can find your way, because only you can go it,“ I replied.
„But who is mine?“, she asked.
„Let yourself be guided by your openness and your curiosity, and you will find a place to stay,“ I replied.
„Then you send me away?“, she asked.
„Yes, I’ll send you away, but come back when you arrive,“ I said, watching her progress for a long time.

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