May? May! Time flies – but hurray – spring is finally here. The days are longer and everywhere you look, it’s blossoming, buzzing, chirping and fragrant.
If you look out of the window here in the country, you realize: it’s weather for growing. Turn around and the tree that was blooming just moments ago has broken out of it blossoms and wrapped itself in a squeaky green dress of leaves. Wild herbs are suddenly knee-high and plants that you thought were frozen forever are creeping bravely out of the ground. The interview project is also currently experiencing a growth spurt.
After I decided and announced to complete it, my gut instinct kicked in. “Wait a little longer,” it said.
All right, let’s wait a little longer. It’s not going anywhere, I thought to myself. I sat back, tipped the invisible cowgirl hat off my forehead, shoved the tired back of my head into my clasped hands, crossed my imaginary boots on the desk, and watched a buzzard circle the field.
I relaxed. And then exactly what always happens when I relax happened. I got new insights and ideas. Thoughts stretched from one point to another and kept pulling in all directions.
The web that seemed to be weaving itself through the work on this project was given more space by my decision to wait.
Because as luck would have it, at about the same time, I got an email from Pam in California. Besides mine, there was another mail address listed above. The content was short and snappy: “She’s also doing a book about women. Talk to each other!”
After finding out the colleague’s name, I wrote to her and learned more about Nitza Agam, who published The Lemon Tree, a collection of essays and artwork by the women around her. Curious, I ordered the book and before it even landed in the mailbox, we began exchanging emails regularly about our projects and lives. We noticed exciting parallels and soon I knew it would be nice to get her involved in my project. I asked and she agreed, to my delight, despite her packed schedule. For some time now, I’ve regularly visualized myself handing not only my daughter Pauline but also the participants their copies in person.
This visualization provides the necessary drive, when I’m exhausted, to continue working on the implementation. In addition, the aforementioned Pam generously suggested to throw a book party at her boutique, Successories, in Pacifica, just south of San Francisco. Whenever that will be, I’m looking forward to it. Also, because I’ll get to see many people dear to me again, and at the latest there, meet Nitza in person. Another participant from California has joined the project. After reading Gas Station Etiquette by Iris Berry from L.A., it was clear to me she’d be a great person to have on board.
I wrote to her and was extremely happy when she agreed. We arranged a Zoom conversation on a Sunday morning in Los Angeles, or evening in downtown Meiningen. That day I felt sick and tired. I had a sore throat and headache and a slight fever. I would’ve preferred to spend the afternoon and evening getting some shuteye. But to cancel on such short notice seemed rude. Besides, I’d really been looking forward to the talk, and the fact that Iris took time on a Sunday meant a lot to me. Pumped full of tea and paracetamol, I sat down at the screen. As soon as I struck up a conversation with Iris, I forgot all my little aches and pains. She’s a writer and publisher at Punk Hostage Press, and the exuberance over the community of writers she formed there, through mutual nurturing and support, is literally written all over her face. A few requests are still in the ether and eventually it will become clear what’s meant and what isn’t meant to be. Also, the thrill of bringing people together and networking. At that point, I found myself again, and told her so. We agreed. Although, or precisely because, writing involves a lot of lonely hours, writing and other projects only come to light through collaboration, exchange, togetherness.
The echo of the beautiful interview still reverberating my ears, the red thread, which once again gained luminosity through this conversation, shifted a bit further into the foreground.
As soon as this book is out there, both the participants and the readers will be able to network with the interviewees – if only through ideas and attitudes that can give inspiration.
That’s the flame that powers this hot air balloon here.
And so, the frustration that it wasn’t finished for my daughter’s 21st birthday, as originally planned, fades into the background.
Listening to my gut feeling and letting the whole thing grow a bit has already proven worthwhile. A few requests are still in the ether and eventually it will become clear what’s meant and what isn’t meant to be.
Until then, I’ll continue to admire the blossoming weather in May and everything it creates.
Growing weather
