After 40 Years, the Bed-In Reawakens

It's the fortieth anniversary of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's Bed-In!

peace tip #3

Jimmy, our pet apple, enjoys the lake near the civic center in Boeblingen.

PEACE TIP #3:
Learn patience.




Patience is a desirable virtue. Fast food drive-thru windows and ten minute oil changes have spoiled me. Supermarkets that are open 24/7 have given me anything imaginable (googly eyes included!) in a quarter hour's time frame. Made and shipped from across the globe, the value of the smallest things I carry with me is now worth much more than it was in my pre-collegiate years. I am now very aware of the economics behind the manufacturing and supplying of goods and the human resources that are included.

While staying at Solheimar in Iceland, I spent a few hours in the knitting room of the eco-village, where mentally disabled people learned to craft mittens, hats, and scarves. I was given the task of twisting ends for a table decoration. At first, finding the coordination for assembling the tedious strands and knots brought frustration. The clock above the door reminded me I was obligated to practice the movements for a few more hours.

Sitting beside another volunteer, I was brought back to a kindergarten classroom where I untied knots as punishment for some sort of committed naughty-ism. As a six year-old, I was placed in a corner where I would have to work out kinks in a shoelace.

In the room in Solheimar that was filled with fabric scraps and large looms, my grumbles from inside were a result of a lifetime of haste and options. My anxious, unamused manner was somewhat dispelled when I looked at Karen, a pregnant Icelandic woman who spoke in the softest voice I had ever heard. She ran the workshop and gained happiness from shear simplicity, from breathing that pure air, from working with her hands.

I did not notice a single time that Karen looked at the clock or if she glanced at it at all.

If I learn her patience, I would hope to transpose her inspiration so the world does not desire to conquer itself with rolling eyes and voiced complaints from time spent waiting in line for anything at all.

I have been around someone with a similar patience; Mr. Sparkles has it in him. He understands time and its essence in our being, and how it should not be taken for granted. While he waits with duties looming in a sense unlike Karen's, he finds entertainment in the pacing around him. He remains at peace.

Moon Mist and Sleepy Children

Now I understand why writers lock themselves in secluded locations away from it all. Life never stops and to reflect even for a moment at times alters your current path. If not changing you path, just blowing one or two clouds left or right. Time to time those clouds can make a big difference when one believes in fate or a positive flowing energy that keeps you moving to grass fields, back seats of tiny cars, puppet rap shows and an european adventure not found in any of the travel guides.

Disillusion of what you don't have fills much of the world. Standing in beautiful Belgium with 100,000 of my closest friends sweaty, cold, and confused at what comes next. I stand staring at the trees full of waterfall sticks illuminating the collectives energy and a language I do not know rattles in my ear. "How is New York? Its not the biggest city in the world you know. 50 million, Paris is 50 million strong and Mexico City is even bigger ranking the top of the list with 20 million people. " Not sure what was lost in translation, it could have been the german techno music blowing in my ear drums, the sickening site of 100,000 fifty cent fans, or the 3 am moon filling the cold and misty sky; last time I checked 50 million was more then 20 but both rank higher then New York as the most pissed in city's of the world. Why is the fluent in 4 languages Belgiumite so quick to put down this wonderful place he currently lives just to wonder "what if" with dreams that swim the Atlantic each night.

Music kicks in a little harder, Emily in my arms eyes full of sleep wrapped in everything we own to keep warm this night. "You don't have to go" she says, worrying that some repetitive beat produced by four strange old men would keep me from wanting, needing to spend every moment with her.

Sam our tour guide on this most strange of adventures turns every few moments with the positive reinforcement searching of an unsure traveler "They're great right?". Always as I feel someone should encourage the opinions of others even if you don't agree, for it helps them discover their true original thoughts; or so I believe for I am just searching myself. Judging by the crowds the moon and my eyelids we depart from our Australian friend and begin yet another journey, the center of earth would be appropriate for its 40 degrees and two bathing suits, two airline blankets, and a bag of art supplies are not going to keep up warm tonight.

Pukkelpop 2009

This week's end culminated with a hot-frosty blur in a small town in Belgium. We arrived in Kiewit Thursday evening with intentions to see The Deftones play. Neither of us was disappointed by missing the band we knew from our teenage years. Instead, we were delighted with the invitation of colorful flowing flags, flashing lights, and enthusiastic motion from a strange crowd dancing to an electronic band.

Pukkelpop 2009 wasn't Bonnaroo due to the lack of constant disorienting heat and three less square miles of campground, but it certainly was a comparable mix of sound and sight. The people were an enigma to us. Thousands of others were speaking in unfamiliar accents. Some languages we heard were English, French, German, Dutch, and its offshoot of Flemmish. The accents of English came from Australians and English music fanatics. We met no other Americans.

We spent nights, during which we could see our warm breaths mixing with cold air, curled up in the back of a small rented sedan making heat. We were grateful we hadn't chosen to pitch a literal tent amongst a mass of people with temporary dwellings who all seemed much younger than us. Any sort of clean oasis was hard to come by among the trash piles created between tents. The scene reminded me of slums from a third world country where allies of domed tents were insulated with emptied plastic containers, beer cans, and half eaten food.

This crowd of people moved from their sleeping spots each evening to witness the rest of the mass drawn by music. We opinionated the worst of the talent line-up to be a German band that touted four performers in front of laptops.

"It's Kraftewerk," said Sam, our Australian friend.

Simplistic redundant beats played while others stood in awe. The lyrics were simple repetitions of multiword phrases-- "MAN, MACHINE, MAN, MACHINE." The most inspiring bit came when a voice said "TOUR DE FRANCE" dozens of times while images of bicyclers from fifty years ago flashed on large screens.

Justin introduced me to Tortoise, an ensemble with many classifications. Immediately, jazzy electricity comes to mind in my attempts to describe what filled my head. Behind them, windmills spun.

"This is what I listen to when I program," Justin said. I immediately understood why.

Constance, constantly calm

From a grassy spot, Justin and I witness where the Rhine meets rivers flowing from the Swiss Alps to make Lake Constance. We are still in bliss after discovering spicy food from Karma, a restaurant made with colors that complement (purple flowers and greenery!). We bask in the sun with others who roam freely and uninhibited as they should.

"We're worshipping the sun together on a Sunday," Justin says as he implies that everyone around us is happy as ripe peaches ought to be.

Giddy children play in fountains, and we help one fill his water bottle after basking all day in summer's sun.





Sitting on a train coming back from a weekend in the melting pot city of Constance, we hear a man playing guitar in another train car. He sings along to his cover of The Beatles' "While My Guitar Gently Weeps."

Meanwhile, a stranger from Croatia tells us that he lost his wife and daughters in a world war.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bosnian_War

"Minefield in a forest. Long time ago... It was a dirty war. It was a war without honor. In the first world war, they fight...Croatians and Serbs. A brother fights the side of the Croatian and another fights the Serbs. One shoots the others. Ten or fifteen years has passed since the war, but they still kill each other. Many wives kill their man because they are Croatian and she is a Serb.

My great Mom remember the second world war. In the second world war there was Russia. Lots of Germans. Now the war is more and more harder. In the second world war, Germans steal five chickens, but they leave 10. Russians steal 15 chickens, but they leave three. Croatians come and steal all the chickens and kill the family.

I think it will need two to three generations before they can live together. In this city, if there are Serbs.

[Where I came from, once known as Bosnia] if you go to a place and you call something the wrong word, it is dangerous. The land is separated by a bridge. Croatians go in the street with certain flags. If the police come, they have no chance. The army must come. The only reason [for violence] was [cause by] a soccer game.

Croatia was a part of Austria-Hungary. They always make war with the kingdom of the Serbs. There has always been. In the second war TITO from Yugoslavia was much like Bush. Three generals died . At the end, 90 percent of generals were Serbs. Police--80% to 90%--were Serbs. Police were being in jail for two years. The judge was ---.

The marina--everything is in Yugoslavia. Throwing stones. Blame switches. The biggest problem were political. They make big propaganda. They built up anger.


People had guns. Were given guns. I hid my gun."


In my head I am begging to know what is perpetuating such anger and violence. Justin and I discuss that it's a tit for tat thing. Years ago, someone killed someone, and a family or political group wants revenge. While some people accept uncontrolled injustice and move on with life, others place blame on an entire group of people. Associations of hate are made and affirmed. But why, why,

why?


"My cousin is living in Croatia from the first day to the last day with army during the war. He destroyed a pillow during his sleep because of a nightmare. Before the war, he don't touch alcohol. Today, in the morning, he drinks a liter of vodka. Today in Croatia, a lot of people have a problem because of alcohol.

At a party. Men were together in Rome. Men from different sides. Someone asks a guy for a EURO. What do you want? One EURO. The guy would not give him the EURO, so they beat him. People go to party. People shoot BOOM BOOM BOOM in the air. "


It's hard to believe that in this country of Germany, at least in the towns and cities we have visited, pedestrians obediently obey crosswalk signs even when traffic is not coming. Law is supreme, and common courtesy reigns supreme.

"It's a problem. From year to year, it will be better. [Sometimes even now] give someone from another country a picture, 500 EURO and a plane ticket, and he'll go kill another man. The places where the tourist are are not dangerous because the police have strong control. Children drive cars. No problem. Time will make it better."

I hear, "Time will bring peace." I feel that the intensity of the subject matter is brought down, but violence continues to be mentioned and observed:

"If you go to a stadium, and you want to watch American football, it [is a good time for all]. If you go to Germany, it is not peaceful. A lot of fans come from Frankfurt to Stuttgart just to fight."

Justin and I joke about American sports. Baseball rules the Northeast, while football takes over the South. I've never been a fan of sports because I've never understood rules and rivalry.

The mentioning of sports competitions in Europe reminds me of Martina's interpretation of Cologne and Dusseldorf. Citizens from both German cities hate each other. Martina, who is from Dusseldorf, goes to Cologne frequently because she feels her homosexuality is more accepted and celebrated there. However, she tells me she does not understand the fighting between the two cities.

Neither do we.

monster socks

Some people get very frustrated when they're waiting in airport security lines. Rather than let impatience breed anger, Justin has come up with a laughable nonverbal response to TSA personnel who kindly ask him to remove his shoes before boarding a plane:

peace tip #2

PEACE TIP #2:
Not all people possess the sixth sense of telekinesis, and the denial of this fact can lead to conflict. Know your intensions, then explain them in five different languages. Next, ask whoever it is you are communicating with to explain what you just said back to you in its native language. To finalize the understanding, request that the person sketch an image of whatever idea you are trying to get across and/or pantomime it. Interpret your transmission of knowledge and decide the accuracy of the transfer. Explain more if necessary.





Recently, I have learned a few good lessons about teamwork. Sometimes, situations exist where five people see an "A" and one person sees a "B." There are a few people who see neither one of those letters, but they agree with everyone who sees an "A," so that person is usually perceived as a sore thumb. The reason for this is usually because the five people who see "A" fail to explain what "A" is, and the person seeing "B" keeps on visualizing the lovely curves in the letter and has no idea only three straight lines are needed to complete the vision. The "A" people want to knock the "B" person over the head and conspire to do so, whilst all the "B" thinker ever needed was a picture of an "A."

peace tip #1

We see what we want to see.
I am seeing peace signs everywhere.
I want others to see them, too.


Establishing a PLAN OF PEACE and walking the PEACE PATH takes small realizations and reactions that accompany.

PEACE TIP #1:
When in Germany, do as the Germans do. Return aluminum, plastic, and glass back to the store where you bought the product contained within it.




According to our friend Matthius, aluminum cans are worth 0.25 EURO here, which is a little less than 0.40 USD. Knowing what I heard about the aluminum industry while I was in Reykavik, Iceland, (bad stuff, yo) I was delighted to hear that a highly effective deposit incentive for returning materials exists.

While we were in Dusseldorf, Martina told me just to leave my glass bottle on the ground.

"Someone will pick it up tonight. People live from payment for these," she said.

It felt strange knowing that litter is bitter, but I sat it down and believed that it would be taken to someone else's benefit before dawn broke in a sky that is just now becoming familiar.

j'aime le weekend

Friday evening Justin busts in and says, "Let's go." We arrive at the car rental business down the road, where our friend Christina works. She scores a few cheap Americans a deal on Mercedes pEace-class.

The environmentalist in the car, who should be championing mass-transit, isn't screaming. Train tickets cost quadruple the amount of a fast ride down the AUTOBAHN, where a foot on the pedal makes the black rocket reach 240 kilometers per hour on its horizontal path to Dusseldorf to see Martina and her Icelandic horse.

Saturday comes, and halfway across the world, students cross a stage and are given fake diplomas that admit may or may not admit them into the "real world" of which people keep speaking. My name is on a real one that is being sent through the mail. Meanwhile, I'm running up history in Heidelberg with Mr. Sparkles.

Martina takes us to the city, where we say we will play cupid. She wants love, and Cologne--not Dusseldorf--is where she is more likely to find a pretty girl who has real feelings for her. Justin and I end up shooting our arrows into two others in the rowdy streets of "the longest bar on earth." We notice them move closer to each other before we return to Martina's flat.

Noon on Sunday comes quickly after deep sleep. We visit the Cologne Cathedral, where humanists stand before the doors handing out brochures about a Chinese cult following of Falun Dafa.

An activist, who is also an international man of business, tells us that over 40,000 members have been killed for their organs. The Chinese government controls communication to the extent that the tragedies are largely swept under the rug. Justin records his voice while I am a tiny speck on the planet with a tear in my eye.

We enter the church and I light a candle for my sister.




The afternoon brings indulgences of a pride festival and a visit to a CHOCOLATE Museum. The building isn't made of fudge, but our mouths water at the sight of factory parts drizzling with smooth brown streams of goodness. Industry isn't always fair, but the taste of the "food of the gods" is good.

Knowing what I have been taught, I admire the packaging and chuckle over the fact that three out of ten children in Bolvaria color cows purple because they are more familiar with the brand Milka than they are with actual cattle. I still like Nutella the most.

shit happens

Caffeine runs through blood
Adrenaline is a full-fledged
We had a good day.

Guten Morgen!

Pictured above is a product I fully endorse. Pictured below is an image I will always promote.




There is no wrong side of the bed in Germany, but hearing the sound of a drill at 8 a.m. wasn't my preferred way to wake up. I realize the mood it put me in, and that I need to get out of it. This feeling will pass after I write.

Recently, I have discovered to pick my battles. I am normally very pacifistic unless I see someone else getting steamrolled in a situation. Lately, though, I have realized I do need to stand up for myself at times. In regards to others, though, I think of my mother and what she is going through at the moment. I stood up for her when my sister became unruly even in her sedentary, painful state. I think of my father, too, because I know all the stress he bears and he wants to put blame somewhere. Circumstance was and is the issue; no single person is at fault for all the time we have spent in the hospital. The irony is that poor health brought the fragments of my family together to save all persons that comprise it.

I am leaving the academic world very soon unless I do pursue knowledge of laws and environmental policies. Further education would be very expensive and adequate employment to pay for it seems to be difficult to gain due to how economics are being portrayed (I do plan to search for scholarships).

Also, I am still learning lessons. Since June, I have learned how to smile and look people in the eye when I talk to them--two things I strayed from after living with a very angry person who only communicated with me via Post-It notes. Now I stare in your eyes as we discover new bits of each other's irises. I smile. I don't stop smiling.

I smile because I consider love. It did happen, and I cannot move from it. I have thought about how the cold will come in New York, but so much warmth resides within walls there. I have not seen these walls yet, but I know the comfort of the arms that have resided within them. I felt these arms last night on a jungle gym, wrapped around me while we contemplated the Earth's orbit and the passing of time and the colors and shapes of things.

I am happy.

Arrival to Germany

I am here!
You are here!
We are here!

We are living in Böblingen, Germany, outside of Stuttgart. We stay in Böhler Hotel, where we have to put a key in the wall to turn on the electricity so less is wasted. There are recycling bins in sight. Our first meal together in this country was at a Thai restaurant, where the peppers were THAI HOT and bit our tongues (yes, this is a bit of an idiosyncrasy from the "buy local" aspect of my ideals, but after working at Ruan Thai for so long, the taste of curry is comfort).

Home is what we make it . . .

bier and meetings

Drinking in the very early afternoon is acceptable when meetings are involved. Excerpt from 2pm today.

Train to Stuttgart waiting in line not easy to figure out ticket check, wish I would have paid closer attention to how I moved onto the next screen. Slow people put my trip back 20 minutes..waiting for the next train off to a foreign land and I hope to return...no maps no language skills no plans but I just need to escape. Bier is a great way to get through the Saturday meetings on a beautiful 80 degree day in early August hidden away in the land of Germany. Suddenly I hear and accordion playing in the background at the train station before my afternoon adventure, this really makes it feel like Europe. Just hope I head in the right direction, looking up I notice ticket booths on the platform...guess I am new at this and have to learn sometime. wow the accordion is perfect in a foreign land ...off I go.

Maybe I will just follow people today and see where it takes me, for 4 euros 1 way I cannot loose on my day journey. Dancing to the music would be in order if Emily was here. We would and soon will experience all of this together. Bring dresses, big sunglasses, bring yourself what you love and leave what you hate behind for today is a new day and tomorrow is a new journey. We will experience this together and cherish it always. We will sleep on trains, run through forests, drink wine in parks, create art wherever we venture, cause curiosity, and make love when desired. Its the beginning of life or the life I never quite understood until now. There will be picnics in parks and adventures of all sorts and everything is right.