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  • I have been dancing on many diffrenet weddings, as we say in Germany: trying out a theatre workshop with my other pals who suffer disability, singing with the jazzsinger Lucy in a group once a week, inviting befriended scientists to give us talks about all the extremely interesting things they explore and the astonishing facts they find, listening, helping, writing.... A lot of the energy to walk potholed streets with terrible eyesight to be able to accomplish all of this I came from the panic of probably having not too muh time left to live and for sure to still see a bit.

    Lately I find myself even more scared to walk a street that I have not walked on for a while. It has become a huge challenge when nobody can accompany me. I am getting tired. I nearly fell badly three times in 5 minutes the other evening when I wanted to get to the new location of my singing group. Even at home I find myself bumping into furniture again and slipping on the stairs.

    Maybe I should stay home more, walk the garden in the beautiful rain that everyone else complains about, but I love it, my eyes see better without the glare of the sun.

    Yesterday morning - as many - I woke up with the thought: Maybe it is time to die?

    I then got up showered, dressed, waited for my taxi and without having any near - accidents and went to have breakfast with a longwime friend who I had not had a lengthy talk with in at least 2 years. It was a delicious breakfast and talk. She does all there new - age spiritual things I am so very sceptical about, she is an strologer, but somehow from her I can take it. What the heck do I know? I felt good. Do we need to believe in an afterlife? I asked. Maybe all my 50 trillion cells are just like a huge orchestra that plays its sinfony and one day the sinfony ends and every single mussician goes his or her way and nobody worries about where the ESSENCE OF THE ORCHESTRA HAS DISSAPPEARED TO?

    Yes, she answers, but once in meditation I had this visión of another and wider dimension that hols this one and it changed the way I live my life, it lifted all Depression off me!

    Good for her. Good to listen to this. Good to be friends and have takls like these for hours!

    Afterwards J. interviews me about our mission and work for the integration of people with disability into society in Grupo Visión.

    Afterwards I see several patients. I listen to heartbreaking stories of young women believing they have to stay in a rotten relationship with addict men because they are no virgins anymore and people will say they are a slut if they drop the man and look for another. I listen to stories of drunk and violent fathers and even mothers, chilren being forced to drink with their parents, sexual abuse, mothers hitting their sons with logs of firewood and smashing the child´s feet.

    Where is that other loving dimension that holds our terrenial and flawed one? I ask myself.

    At the end of sessions they all express relief, a lighter heart, gratefulness for being able to say it, put it in words have an ear listening to what unspeakable things have burdened their hearts for many decades....

    Finally a woman comes, who, with forty, has found her power , she is a fine social scientist, she has finally put limits: to her once violent husband who now tries hard to be a different man, to her overbearing mother, to her superfeminist collueges who are sick of envy of her intellectual brilliance. I have sat with this woman on and off for a decade and suddenly she has turned into a bright and shining star.

    Since many hours, I notice, when everyone has left, I have not worried for a moment about not seeing well. Maybe it is not yet time to die?

    54 years ago on the day of my 1st Communion, one of the happiest days of my life, with my then close friend Ulrike (her Dad was a doctor in schools, also in mine, where he was known to touch little girls where he should not whenever he examnide them for whatever the German authorities wanted to know about the young children in schools, who were the After War Generation
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