An end to begin with...

When I left my apartment in Berlin, I didn’t know it was the last time I’d be there. It’s an odd feeling of something uninterrupted, a pending life I’ve never got to say proper goodbye to. Part of me felt relieved it was like that. My experience in that apartment was already mixed, a kingdom that rose, prospered, and fell; and we were there, trying our best to rebuild it with bare hands. There was a heaviness, tiredness that would just keep following me in each room, a constant feeling of doom. So I don’t really miss it. It wasn’t mine anymore. I already wanted to leave, but didn’t think it would be like that.

We broke up in a different land, I took refuge with my parents, and 8 years of existence suddenly were under suspension. It is a lot of time, it takes much energy and strength to hold. You realize it’s almost like you’ve been holding your breath all this time, just to sustain the weight. And as you drop it lands heavily, vibrates your existence, and shakes you to the core.

We were great together, that kind of couple people would randomly compliment on the street. But every house has its cracks and no one ever expects theirs to crash. Eventually loving the other will be limited until you learn how to love yourself. And it’s incredible the damage that not loving yourself can do to the ones you love.

So there I was saying goodbye to a city, a continent, a life. As the plane took flight, my heart sank deep. It was hard to breathe. I was overwhelmed by this feeling of doom, of death, of ending. It was so abrupt I felt that was it, I was about to die. All sounds became loud, I could hear each part of the plane, I could feel its wheels, I could sense its metal bending and moving. I vibrated with it, and I was afraid. I’m a seasoned traveler - I'm not normally afraid like that, but there was nothing normal about anything that was happening lately. So I took a deep breath, I chanted a mantra, and I focused only on that - to breathe, to chant, nothing else. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore all the sounds and feelings crashing into my chest.

Hare Krishna, hare Krishna

Krishna Krishna hare hare

Hare rama, hare rama

Rama rama hare hare

I'm not even sure what it means, but it was what came to me. And as I breathed I focused on the cycle of every breath, how it begins, ends, and moves. I put my attention on that moment when it shifts, that little pause, the brief transition between in and out, and how it feels suspended but also pulsing. Like a heartbeat, breath is life.

There I stayed, breathing, chanting, and what was once a horrible feeling of tragedy transformed into stillness. I felt somehow comforted that if really my existence here were to be cut out like that and something would happen to the plane, so be it, I had said my prayers and I had shared my love with my loved ones, though movie-like tragic, it would be a good death. I have no choice in how I die, only in how to live.

The plane went silent and stable, and so did my breath. Maybe I died. A part of me did and that was my body processing its passing, my mind absorbing a new shape. The rest of the travel was fine, a few more little turbulences, but I already knew where to go, so it got a little easier each time.

It’s been almost two months since I arrived. And I’ve been mourning that part of myself, going through all stages. I’ve also been showered with so much love that it’s been a journey to accept I’m deserving of it. But then I remember that was the part of me that I already let go. I do deserve it, everybody does. How can I believe in it without accepting it for myself?

It’s an odd feeling, to just suddenly feel so good that you feel sort of guilty about it.

But maybe that’s only the movement after suspension, as you transition from in and out with each breath, the end that turns into new beginnings, the shift that moves and brings life.