Revolution

Being in Los Angeles without a car is a strange experience. I have never dealt with this before a few days ago. I knew things were spread out, but this is ridiculous!The city isnt really set up for human interaction and the car thing is just a great example of this type of isolation. You leave your place, drive somewhere where you expect to see certain people, get back in your car and go back in your place. There are very few random interactions along the way other than traffic and possible bouts with road rage. Everything is totally planned and moderately stressful.

But lately I've been walking. We have these big beautiful sidewalks in Studio City. They generally remain empty while the streets remain full.

On Ventura Blvd. there is a small music store called Ventura Music. I must have driven by it a million times, but now it became my destination as it was the closest place I could think of to fix my guitar. I was warmly greeted by George, the old rocker/owner of the joint, all smiles and long hair. He said he could help me out right away. An hour later, I had discovered that he was a Greek man from Russia who had been living in the US for over 18 years. His wife of 30 years had helped him to open this shop to showcase, store and hopefully sell some of his vintage guitar collection. We talked about life and travel and love. And by the end of the conversation he told me that if I practiced hard and came back to his shop and "impressed him" with my skills, he would give me an antique that was worthy of my effort.

All this because I took the time. All this because I couldn't drive away. All this in LA.
And thats when I realized that revolution is not a place. Its not a time or a phase. Its an everyday occurrence. And it starts inside of each of us. 

Thats when I realized, the revolution, is me.

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Serendipity

Serendipitous moments are sometimes hard to come by. But one thing has been consistant here in Berlin: when I ask for something, with a pure heart and a clear intention, the answer comes expediently. My trip to London was no exception. Do you believe in random occurrence?

Some wonderful family friends of ours that I have known since I was 4, decided, at random, to fly my mother out to visit them for 2 weeks.  It just so happened to randomly be 3 weeks after I arrived in Berlin. A donor, who will remain nameless (thanks Varetta), randomly felt led to give money so I could come to see my mother. And it just so happened that our friends home was beautiful and exquisite, that my mother is English and had some touching time in her homeland, and that one of my first best friends who generally globe trots (their daughter Holly) and has spent most of the past few years in Africa, was in town and had the time to spend a day with me. Randomly. If you believe anything is ever really random.

So we had tea at the Luton Hoo, took a nice long stroll through the Bluebell Wood that only blooms 3 weeks out of the year and had lovely homemade meals and cocktails out on their patio by the pool. We had deep conversations and we laughed. And I learned a lot about my mom, my childhood and myself. I knew this trip to England was somehow going to tell me why I had come to Berlin.

On one of these days, sometime in the morning when the quiet sunlit patio was just calling my name, I took some paper out and sat down. I knew something was coming. A muse. A genius was on the way. And instead of letting it pass over me I opened my hands and my heart to catch it....

Why have I moved half way around the world? For What? For Whom? 

For love. For Berlin.

So what should I do?

Tell the story.

How?

A documentary style film.

What? That makes no sense. I dont even like documentaries! Im not a history buff. I know nothing of Germany... 

But its you. 

Who me? Really? Couldn't you find someone better for this, Berlin? I mean someone more experienced in this kind of thing?

The heart for it. The inspiration is there...

But...

Believe. 

And so here I am. The theme of the piece still emerging. The reality of this calling still hard to grasp. To be frank, its been a couple weeks now and my head is still spinning. But I have to say, its nice to have a purpose. Its nice to find a way to empty myself of expectation to the point of being filled, like this. And I know its right. Totally insane. But totally right. So, I must begin...

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Tennis Borussia vs FC Union

I love the energy of a live game. Any game. But right now, Im watching football.

Real football. The kind the world beyond the US watches and worships. And I am here live and in person. Beer and bratwurst in hand, each side chanting and singing familiar songs with words I dont know. But I understand because I have been to church before. And this is church.

I dont know much about the sport and I dont understand a word of what the announcer is saying. But I know that we are rooting for purple and I know that even though it rained all morning, the sun came out for this.

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Praying for Rain

April in Berlin has been a beautiful, sunny month. Ive been saying that I brought the sun with me from LA. But today its pouring rain outside, literally and figuratively. Some things have happened lately that I don't yet know what to make of and Im not sure how to write about. I promise to when I can find the words. But these last few days I cant seem to control it. And its not for lack of trying. For lack of desire. For lack of will. Sometimes the weather changes. The pressure systems, the winds. And while the cold and the gray and the darkness seems hard, inconvenient, ill timed, I accept it as part of this season.

Nobody said this would be easy.

But somewhere deep down, far beneath the doubt and insecurities that I so regularly feed on, I know that this is right. I am ok. And its just a ride.
So with no solid job prospects, no place to call my own as of 5 days from now, and about 5 Euros in my pocket I am sitting in a cafe praying for rain.

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Seeds

I wanted to do something beautiful for the dear Susanne that has so generously gifted me her apartment to stay in these past weeks. On Monday I planted flowers for the first time. A girl I know was kind enough to lend her love for life and her green thumb to me and to the balcony where I am staying. And together we pulled out the old dying plants and put in new soil.

We both put our hands in and got dirty. 

We talked and laughed. 

And we planted new life in those 6 small window boxes. 

She taught me how to water them properly and told me to talk to them as often as I could especially in the next few days so that they would know that they were home.

And even though the past few days have been cold, I know that these flowers will be alright. Because they were planted with love. And even though it was hard to hear because of the surrounding circumstances, when I heard yesterday that Monday was the day she found out she is pregnant, I know it will be alright. Things planted with love must grow...

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Getting to Know You

Berlin is making me think about how I meet friends. Im getting used to introducing people to each other saying we met, "on the train, at the park, in a cafe"etc. Then again, I guess thats the only way we do meet new people. Random places. And it doesn't get much more random than Berlin. Once we are unleashed into the "real world" we start attracting people into our lives in whatever way we do. In school, we are with students. At work, we are with coworkers. At parties, we are with friends of friends. Same attract same and there is always something in common to start. But how do you break out of the norm? How does one break free from the average world of incestuous friend circles? A new hobby? A new favorite hang out? A new state of mind?
But no matter where you are, there is always something in common. Humanity. And on days like today I feel so lucky to just be a part of it and to be smiled upon by its kindness...

In Marion, the girl I met in Mauerpark while sitting next to her in the big stone amphitheater as we gasped in disbelief at two half naked pregnant dancing karaoke singers. A few days later she took me out for my first proper German meal.

In David whom I met on the train from the airpot and who was kind enough to help me out when I missed my stop. And even though he has lived here for 4 years, a week later I was able to show him a wonderful new Sunday flee market tradition. We ate lots of ice cream!

In Patrick, whom I met at the bar along with his fabulous girlfriend during "angry hour" at a fun local restaurant/pub. In no time we were sitting down in a park for our first (free) guitar lesson. I promised to always bring the beer!

In Marc, the fabulous Englishman whom I met on the plane who treated me to a proper 7 1/2 hour pub style crawl through some of the more interesting parts of the city. We were in search of what he describes to be an Unemployed Turkish Lesbians Collective who apparently makes the most amazing food every year on May Day. We're serious about food!

And so I find that being alone here is harder than I thought. Because people- good, interesting, caring people are everywhere I turn. Everyday. And I cant help but remember how I can sometimes forget.

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