What's going through my head right now #18

METAMORPHOSIS

Transformation. A process. An unstoppable process that, once set in motion, cannot be reversed. How quickly or slowly it progresses remains a mystery. It continues until the supposed final stage is reached. And even that will only be a stop along the way. Because it always goes on—whether it's aging or the next step to be climbed.

The transformation, this change that reaches into the deepest cells (that's how I imagine it), begins at some point and must have a starting point. A triggering momentum. A hormonally induced initial situation, as in animals, which then go through various stages of transformation. Or molting, which heralds individual stages of growing up. But the human change in personality structure also represents a metamorphosis that happens less externally than internally—apart from the obligatory change of hairstyle and type that many go through and consider the beginning of a new phase.Now this move, this “break” with the house, the surroundings, the familiar routines on site, giving up my retreat and second home (after selling my parents' house 15 years ago, the house became the center of my life) is a transformation. And that's true on all levels.

I feel this most clearly in my dog's behavior. She is restless at times, constantly seeking my company but then not wanting to be touched, always looking for a safe place. She only wants to go on short walks so she can quickly return home and check that everything is still the same. Of course, at a certain point, this was no longer the case, as the house was either full of boxes, furniture was being moved around, and the house was gradually being emptied.

At some point, I stopped taking her with me, just letting her move around in the new environment or rest, creating places for her to retreat to, and gradually establishing routines—going for walks, short walks, or sniffing exercises in the new apartment.

So while Bruni's metamorphosis is already underway and she is getting used to her new home and living space, my partner and I still feel caught between these two worlds. We have now moved all the important and large items and have begun to define and structure our new living environments, but we are still faced with numerous unpacked boxes. Almost every day, we rearrange things, move furniture around, and dispose of one thing or another—whether in the new apartment, the old house, or the newly chosen studio in the tower (no, not an ivory tower, a real tower). We wait for craftsmen and fitters to finish one thing or another and thus manifest the first option for a possible arrangement.

These are just the outward signs that can be physically grasped and made visible. The inner turmoil, the doubts, but also the small to large successes, the comparisons between the old and the new, the suppression of possible inconsistencies, and the bursting of accumulated states that one carries with oneself and has missed the right moment to express, to reveal. Or you have simply allowed too many compromises, lost yourself in the process, and are no longer sure whether it all really makes sense.

But we're right in the middle of it, and there's no turning back. So let's look ahead. Exposed to all the chaos in the confined space of the cocoon, hoping that the transformation will soon be complete so we can see the light again and get back to life, like a thrilling race track or winding serpentine roads in a rally. With a view of peaks and valleys.

Well, this metamorphosis will take a while longer, but somehow we need this phase, this intensity, these exhausting and nerve-wracking ups and downs and confusion.

Jochen, cordially