It’s been quiet here lately, as I have been thinking a lot about our choice to move back to Germany.
In the past, when I lived in the UK, I have always seen it as a blessing to have experienced and lived in another country. I always saw it as enriching and a valuable trade to have, to come from a different cultural background. But lately I have come to see it also as a curse.
I find myself constantly comparing the two countries. I can see the positive and the negative aspects of both countries. Although I am German, I have been struggling to fit back in over here. I am struggling in particular with the directness and almost rudeness of my fellow human beings, but I also find all this red tape and the rules very wearying.
There is things I experience at work and privately, that sound almost unbelievable. I always take a step back then and have to look at the individual person and not to see it as a trade of all Germans. But there is still the issue of bureaucracy and some ridiculous rules, that are very German.
I have to go back to University to study three modules of German to be able to be fully recognised as a teacher over here. I had a meeting at Uni with some Lecturers last Friday and when I told them my story they shook their heads in disbelief. Just like me, they could not understand why I am being made to jump through hoops, although I am more than qualified to do my job.
I qualified as a teacher in the UK in 2009, I have lived in England for nearly 20 years. I taught German most of the time, yet in Germany I have to proof myself all over again. I knew that there would be some issues coming here, but that it is that hard I did not foresee.
I am constantly finding myself to weigh up the benefits of living here and the disadvantages. The same vice versa. And this is what I mean it is also a curse. I have seen the other side, so to speak. I know what life in the UK is like – well what it was like before the BREXIT.
After almost 20 years I find myself more English than German. I had my struggles over there too, don’t get me wrong. So, in the UK I was a foreigners, for obvious reasons and here I feel foreign, because I can’t get used to certain cultural aspects. Once again I am stuck in the middle.
This week however I have come to the conclusion: Que sera sera. Whatever will be will be. Let’s see how far I get with that.
When I moved to England in the year 2000, I was a believing Christian through and through. I spent my days searching for meaning and deeply thinking about all sorts of things…maybe even a little too much. My host dad (god rest his soul) absolutely disliked that about me. He was a practical sort of guy and he really did not like to talk about the deeper meaning of things. So I tried to change that habit. I think I did that quite successfully.
After a year into my stay in the UK my host mum died in a car crash and this changed my believes completely. I don’t want to go into any details. I just had a few encounters with some very righteous people, which made me turn my back on my Christianity.
Just before the summer holidays this year I got confirmation from the education authorities in our area in Germany that I am allowed to teach R.E (religious education). This news made me very happy 😊 Today was my first full day of teaching R.E and I noticed my lack of ability in thinking deeper.
Talking to the other R.E teachers made me realise that I do need to start thinking at a deeper level again. I fear that I have become very shallow and superficial over the years. I don’t mean heartless or bitchy, or focused on material things, but rather on a ecclesiastical level. On the drive home from school I realised that over the years my thinking had become very black and white and that I need to start thinking more in colour 😊
When I arrived home I felt more energetic and happy than I have in months. I almost feel that with teaching R.E I have found my vocation. Don’t get me wrong. I love teaching English too, but with it being a main subject, one is more restricted by the rules.
I was very anxious at the beginning of the week, about the coming school year and what it might bring, but today made me realise that it will all be great and that I have many things to be grateful for and that I am in fact very lucky to be given the opportunity to teach R.E.
I feel in a way that this inability to feel and think at a deeper level has prevented me from creative writing. I feel that this lack has stopped me from doing my best during my MA in Creative Writing. I think that it would have really benefited my creativity. For my final dissertation I went with the funny, Bill Brison style novel, as it felt the best option. I stuck as close to reality as I could and tried to add some humour. The humour almost helped me to cover up my real emotions and maybe that’s why I am finding it hard now to finish my novel: A different shade of green, because I am unable to continue the humorous tone.
What I have learned this week is to be grateful and to start seeing things from a different point of view. I have learned to take my time, during lessons and give my pupils the room to breath as well. I will continue on this soul searching journey which will hopefully lead to a better version of myself.
Slow Down or life will find a way to slow you down
I don’t want to go into too much detail, but last week my husband had a health, which made me think about stress and the affects it has and what it feels like.
I came up with the list below, if you can think of anymore ways to describe stress, please leave a comment, as I am trying to put together a poem about it.
Short of breath
Not paying attention to details
Not thinking things through
Trying to cope
I was also trying to think of what it feels like to de-stress and the feelings I have when I am not stressed. I created the list below. Again, if you can think of anything to add, please comment.
Taking in the moment
Noticing things: like taste, smell, touch etc.
Having time spare
Creating this list has made me realise that I can’t think of many things of how it feels like not to be stressed.
I am setting myself the challenge to de-stress more often, to take a deeper breath more often, to slow down the moment. Even at work I realised today that if I just stop, take a deep breath and think about the situation, it will work out better.
I made time this morning to have a coffee before I went into lessons, because there is no need to rush around, I have time and even if I am two minutes late the world doesn’t end.
A few weeks ago I read the following somewhere: Don’t sweat the small stuff. Will the problem that is presenting itself to you, still affect you in five years? If the answer is no, then there is no point to get stressed over it.
A lot of people have asked me why my website is called Capture the moment in words.
I used to be very interested in photography. In a photograph you capture a special moment in time forever. A moment that will never occur like that again.
I am trying to do the same with words. I am trying to capture one moment in time with words. A moment that will never occur in the same way again.
I am trying to do this by either poems, short stories or even with my autobiographical novel that is in the making: A Different Shade of Green.
I believe that words can be very powerful and when we put them onto paper, or screen we need to think carefully about the words we chose. We live in a world of instant messages. It often feels rushed to me and I am trying to compile an Instagram post in less than 5 Minutes. With my website I am trying to pause for thought and capture a beautiful moment in the best way possible, just like we try in a photograph. A little snapshot with words to be captured.
I have been journaling since I was a child. I used to have this really pretty journal when I was a about 10 years old, which was pink and purple and had sparkles all over it. The most important thing at the time was that it had a lock. Even until today my journal is something very private to me.
I still have those journals from my teenage years and I sometimes flick through them. It makes me smile a lot to read about my secret crushes on boys and troubles in school. My childhood was not a very happy one and in those days my journal was my confidant about my feelings about my parents and how they treated me. In those days children wouldn’t really talk about their home life to many people, well at least I wouldn’t have done that, so my journal was always close to me, like my best friend and it could keep secrets.
I have a blog where I share many of my personal experiences, but some things are just not meant to be for the public to read. In my journal I write down all my thought uncensored. This is the most important point to me of journaling, that it is free from criticism, other than my own, and I can write whatever comes to my mind or bothers me.
When my father died in 2013 and seven months later my best friend, my journal was once again my best friend. I felt I couldn’t keep on at my friends about how much I was hurting. My friends were supportive, but I felt after a while they kind of had enough. Even until this moment the grief of having lost two important people from my life is overwhelming and through journaling I can vent these emotions.
Journaling can also be very reflective. I was going through a phase lately of very low self-esteem, and not being able to find a job. My mind was taking me to very dark places. Writing it all down in a journal at the time has helped me a great deal and reading through it now seems almost unbelievable that I was having such dark thoughts.
Journaling really helps to make you more aware of your behaviour and how it can affect your life. It can help you to change or work on certain things you would like to change. It is certainly very helpful if you want to work on your mental health, I found and helped me a greatly to deal with bouts of depression. It can also be a great motivation to work towards goals.
My name is Britta Freemantle. English language and literature have always been my passion. I have an MA in English Literature and an MA in Creative Writing. I read a lot, as that supports my own writing process. I am a writer. My dream would be to one day publish my book and become a full-time writer. I have written several short stories and one of which won the Dorset Short story award. I have my own website and blog were I review books of various genre, write a blog about all sorts of things and where I post some of my short stories and poems.
The weather has such a big influence on how we feel. The sun makes a huge difference to our mood and after a long winter we all need lots of vitamin D. Yet, the weather has been terrible this year in April and May in Germany. Last year we were able to sit outside most days, but this year the weather is very moody.
At first I wouldn’t let this get me down. But it is beginning to get on my nerves. I have lost 20Kg since November and exercise is a big part of my daily routine. In the winter I ran a lot, although I am more of a cyclist and swimmer.
Through Corona all swimming pools are closed, so I was looking forward to some big cycling tours to explore our area further, but it’s not much fun in the rain. Last Sunday the weather was glorious and I did this really long trip through our forests 🌳. I bought myself an off road Mountainbike and I can actually go straight through the forest. I love it. You don‘t meet anybody apart from some 🦌 deer and the other day I even met a huge stag. I find that very uplifting and exhilarating.
As I want this post to be uplifting I can tell you what I have done to keep myself from getting down.
Corona gives us a lot of limitations here in Germany and nothing much is open in our region, due to the high numbers, so I had to find highlights within those boundaries. I love a challenge 😉
I made a plan, where I do something everyday I can look forward to. I enrolled on a free online course for one week about how to publish a book, as this is still my main goal. This course is every night at 20:15. Yesterday I invited my family round for coffee and cake. The day before that a carpenter came round as I am planning to make the stairs to my attic office a bit nicer as this is going to be my main working and creating space (photos will follow). I have also planned our meals in advance for the whole week, but this is also to help me stay focused on my diet goals.
Plan something for everyday that will help lift your mood. It doesn’t have to be something expensive. it can be as little as trying out a new facemask, or having a bubble bath, or trying out a new flavour tea and sitting down for 10 minutes to enjoy that. I also bought myself some new books. I told my husband they are for research purposes 😊 I am looking forward to reading them. I am planning some time every day to just sit down and read for a little while. As you can see the possibilities are endless. If you have any more ideas feel free to comment on this post. I wish you all a wonderful week 😘
It was the Easter weekend and you were fed up with sitting around inside and watching TV. So we decided to take a drive to Portland and walk around the quarry. It was a fairly warm day and the air was fresh and full of new beginnings. We both had been through a tough time. You supported me through my fathers’ death. Clearing out the place I called home and trying to get settled in my new surroundings. Now it was spring and it was a good time to find myself again.
We parked up on top of the hill and walked towards the quarry. You were walking too fast as usual whilst I was trying to take photographs. As we entered Tout quarry from the south there were already quite a few sculptures. I was impressed, so I started going round taking pictures of almost every sculpture. I was completely lost in photography and my surroundings that I did not notice you walking off. After a while I turned round and you were gone. I started following, what seemed a main path through the quarry. I called your name.
As I took a left turn the path narrowed a bit and became quite rocky and uneven. Nevertheless I followed it, as I was now intrigued by what was round the next corner. And there it was in front of me, almost life size on a large rock. A person falling. I was so drawn to that sculpture that I sat down opposite it. This sculpture of the person falling was exactly how I was feeling. Since my fathers’ death I felt like I was mid-air. I did not feel grounded or settled anymore. That’s why I took my shoes off. I wanted to feel the ground beneath my feet and somehow feel rooted.
I sat there for a while, when I remembered that I was looking for you. I put my shoes on and started walking again. I got back to the main path and started shouting your name, when somehow out of the blue, I tripped and fell on the floor. The fall somehow felt like it was in slow motion. I tried to get composer and somehow find my feet, but it did not work. First my hands touched the floor, but they could not bear the weight of my body, then my knees touched the floor, which was really painful and then my head knocked on the floor, well not the floor but a rock that stuck out of the ground. I knocked myself out for a couple of minutes.
When I opened my eyes I could feel my knee hurt very much. My head was also quite sore. I hit the ground, properly with my whole body. I sat up and started shouting your name really loud. Then I retrieved my phone from my pocket and called you. Within a few minutes you found me and took me straight to hospital as my knee and my head were pretty badly bruised and bleeding.
I limped out of hospital that night with a plaster on my head and stitches, but at least I wasn’t still falling.
This short story was published in: This little world, Stories from Dorset writers (ISBN 9781518718267). Under my previous name Britta Eckhardt-Potter, but I am now Britta Freemantle.
When I was six years old, my uncle gave me my first reading book. In Germany children only start primary school at the age of six so I had only just learned how to read. The book was about a magical fairy type figure, a bit like Tinker Bell but male. This little guy played his flute in the forest for the animals. The animals loved him very much and in return for his music they looked after him and protected him. One day he fell ill and the animals, with the help of some children from the nearby village, nursed him back to health and he was able to play his flute once more. I still have the book today. I’ve always treasured that story maybe it is because it combines two of my favourite things, nature and music.
My dad loved being outdoors. He used to take us for long dog walks in the forest every Sunday with the dog. He taught us about the trees and how to identify them by the shape of the leaf and the bark of the tree trunk. I loved Sundays. Discovering new paths, walking in the fresh air. It was always a mini adventure. Every Sunday followed the same routine. My sister and I went to Sunday school. When we got back my mum would have the lunch ready. After lunch we would put our walking shoes on and get ready. We used to have two dogs. One Dachshund called Waldi, and a wirehaired pointer called Ben. My dad loved these dogs. They were like the sons he never had, we used to joke. When Waldi died he buried his ashes in the forest. He never told us the exact spot, but I know he visited him on many occasions. My dad took walking very seriously. He always had the full gear, walking stick, knee length socks, a pair of massive binoculars. I also remember that in my room as a child, the wall paper on one side of my room was a dense, green forest. Only recently I looked through an old photo album and came across a picture of me as a baby, in a cot with that wall paper in the background.
I learned to play the recorder at a very young age. Later on, in life I learned to play the flute. I have always found music to have a soothing effect on the mind and soul. When I was playing the flute in an orchestra, we played mainly classical music. Playing in an orchestra can be very regimented and practising the same piece over and over again can at times be quite down heartening and boring, to be totally honest. It takes a lot of discipline but of course once it all comes together it is be very rewarding and the sound of a whole orchestra playing in harmony together sends a tingle through your whole body. Music always played a big part in my life. I found it interesting how certain songs or melodies can lift your mood, but others can equally make you sad, or even angry. Oliver Sacks, in Musicophillia, describes the effects music can have on the brain. How music anchors your memory in certain moments and has the ability to take you back to those. That music can evoke an emotional involvement.
After reading Musicophillia I started to read articles and more books about alternative therapies and came across one about sound healing and the use of the Native American Flute. I was hooked. The Native American flute is an instrument that is played by intuition and feeling. No music is needed. Once you know the basic principles of how a flute or a recorder works, you can play the Native American flute.
When I looked the flutes up online, I noticed that they came in different sizes and key notes, so I did a lot more background reading and found out that F sharp was traditionally used by the Native Americans. Every flute has a totem on top of the air hole, in order to actually make a sound. Originally many of the totems atop the old Native American flutes resembled birds, but this tradition was changed over the years. These totems are also called fetishes in some traditions. Fetishes resemble the shape of an animal. Native Americans believe the spirit of the animal and its spiritual powers dwell within the fetish.
Finding a flute to buy wasn’t as easy as I thought. They were quite pricey, and I didn’t want to spend a lot of money on an instrument I was not yet sure of. After some consideration I found a beautiful flute online from a guy who makes them himself in Germany. The flute I chose to order in the end had a bear as a totem above the sound hole and was made from cedar wood. This flute was set in the key of D sharp. I read that the bear fetish is one of the six most powerful guardian fetishes in Native American tradition. Bears are believed to be powerful healing animal, providing strength and well being with great curative abilities. The bear is a great protector. It is a symbol of courage, confidence and victory. The bear is also associated with harmony, balance, patience and introspection.
It looked amazing in the picture online and I could not wait for it to arrive. When it finally did, there was a note with it. It said that, before its first play, the flute needed to be cleansed with sage and some of the cedar wood shavings the flute was made from. The mixture was wrapped in foil and included in the parcel. This ritual of burning sage for cleansing is also called smudging. This is a well-established practise by some Native American tribes. Many cultures have used the smudging ceremony to purify the body, the aura, spaces or personal belongings. Smudging is used to remove negative energy.
I am not a massive fan of anything that smokes, so I decided to perform the ritual in the forest, near where I lived in Dorchester. Playing the flute in the forest would be like my childhood dream come true. Just like my little hero from my favourite book. Two days after the flute had arrived the weather looked promising, so I packed a bag and drove to the nearest car parking area. As it had been raining most of the week before, I took a small picnic blanket, a bottle of water and some matches with me. In my mind I needed to find a secluded place. I wanted to be totally alone and have enough quiet time. In order to find such a spot, I needed to leave the main path. I started climbing up a slight slope and made my way deeper into the woods. As soon as I entered the forest, I sank into an atmosphere of total peace and tranquillity. It was early May and the trees were intensely green and the air particularly fresh. Pines towered above me casting shadows onto the undergrowth around me. I inhaled the scent of nature deep into my lungs. I could feel my worries drop from my shoulders like the early morning dew off a flower. The ground felt soft beneath my feet and I had to be careful not to trip over the many moss-covered roots that were arching out of the ground. It was exhilarating.
After a while I found a fallen tree. It was perfect. I could sit on it and hide behind its big roots. I spread out my small picnic blanket. The ground felt damp here, as the mighty pine trees were making it difficult for the sun to break through. I sat down to take in my surroundings. Amongst the big trees I could also see some little ones starting to spring from the ground. Sitting down I felt small. Awe-inspired. Some of the old trunks looked like the faces of ancient wise men with long beards. The floor around me was a carpet of pine needles and fir cones. I could see that no human had ever walked through my chosen spot. It reminded me of that magical forest from my child hood book. I closed my eyes and realised that it was silent. Apart from the faint twitter of some birds and the occasional sound of a wood pecker hard at work, I couldn’t hear anything else. It was pure bliss. I decided to lie back on my blanket. On my back I looked up. The blue sky stretched above me, and the tree tops swayed gently in the slight breeze.
I eventually got up and started to collect some stones to make a make a small fire place. I placed the sage and cedar in the middle of the small pit and lit it with a match. Almost immediately I could smell the bitter yet aromatic fragrance that filled the air. When it began to smoke, I cleansed the flute and then myself. By ‘cleansing’ I mean I held the flute over the smoke and then used my hands to wave the smoke around me. Then I sat back down, closed my eyes and began to play the flute. The flute felt warm on my lips and the cedar wood tasted slightly sweet. It was soft to touch. The pitch of the flute was slightly higher than I expected, but my ears were soon attuned to that and my fingers began to play a little melody that came to me at that moment in time. It was a light-hearted rhythm, that made my head feel light. I felt captured in the moment. The situation was magical. Absolute silence, just the gentle sound of the wind, a few birds and my flute. The serenity and peace that were coming from the music kept me firmly grounded in the moment. It helped me to reconnect with myself. To forget all my worries. Every note came directly from the heart.
After a while, I am not sure how long I had been playing, I could hear breathing sounds. I looked around and about twenty metres away from me were two stags and three does. Just standing there. Looking at me. For a few seconds my heart beat faster and then blood rushed to my head, before the realisation set in that I was completely safe. Somehow, I knew that the animals meant me no harm and they knew that I meant them no harm. A warm feeling was rising from my stomach and spreading all over my body. It made my hair stand on end and sent a shiver down my spine. At that rare moment in my life I knew what true happiness felt like. Those animals were my first audience and their presence made me feel humble. As they seemed to like it, I carried on playing. They did not move until I was packing up my bits and pieces. It felt as if they were watching over me.
I know some people might think this is crazy. A woman sitting in the middle of a forest by herself. They might even think it is dangerous, but to me it felt great. I felt free, open and calm. I have never had a feeling like this before. From a very young age I believed that nature can have a healing and soothing effect on the mind. Being outside in nature can help to clear the head and rejuvenate the soul.
After my experience in the forest I really wanted to invest in a better-quality flute in F sharp. The best known Native American flutes are made by a company called ‘High Spirits’. This is a well-known American brand, but hard to come by in the UK. After some digging, I found a shop in Brighton that sells them and even ships them directly to your door. Ultimately though I decided that if I was going to invest a larger sum of money in an instrument I really wanted to see, feel and hear it before buying it. Having lived in Somerset for ten years previously, I thought that there must be a shop in Glastonbury that would also sell them.
Without ringing ahead, I decided to take a day trip from Weymouth, on the off chance I might find a flute in Glastonbury. I was lucky. One particular shop had quite a few. Most of them came in a natural wood with either an eagle or a wolf as a totem. One flute stood out to me. It was made from ebonized walnut, which gave it a black shimmery effect and had a crow totem. The shopkeeper must have seen my eyes glaze over and asked if I wanted to play it. It was beautiful to hold. The wood was warm and soft. It had six holes but the third one from the top was covered up with a leather band, as in the Native American tradition. Underneath each whole was a small turquoise cabochon, inlayed into the wood. Very tentatively I placed my fingers over the holes and pulled the flute up to my mouth. The wood felt grainy on my lips and I could feel the tiny marks inside.
As I played the first note a shiver ran through me. I felt connected with the flute and it felt right. A little melody came to me and I started playing it. It sounded fantastic. A very full tone, much lower than the D sharp I played in the forest. It was bigger and therefore easier to hold for me as well. The only thing holding me back was the crow totem, as it wasn’t something I would have picked. I got out my phone and looked up the meaning of the crow totem. In old Native American tradition, it is believed that you don’t chose the fetish, but the fetish chooses you. The crow is the keeper of the secret law. In Native American folklore, the intelligence of crows is usually portrayed as their most important feature. According to the legends and myths, some tribes believed that the crow had the power to talk and was therefore considered to be one of the wisest birds. The black flute with the crow soon became my favourite.
In conversation I told two of my friends about my amazing experience in the forest. They are equine therapists and live near Glastonbury. After talking to them they became very interested in me playing the flute for their team. Between them they own twelve horses and ponies. The animals have been rescued from different places, including the abattoir. They invited me to play for their two larger horses, as they had been through some unrest and illness in the winter months. One male and one female horse. The female horse, Prada, was a white thoroughbred. She was really shy and easily scared. Her previous owner had neglected her badly. Prada avoided contact with humans. The marks on her white body showed signs of abuse and beating. She was originally a show jumping horse but never really liked going into the transporter box. Then she got injured badly in a car accident on the motorway and whilst she healed, Prada refused to get in a box again. Her owner tried to beat her into submission before giving up and selling her off to be slaughtered. My friend bought her back for very little money. The male horse was called Danny and a Hanoverian Cross. Danny was a stunning ginger horse and my friend’s first horse. She had found him abandoned near a ruined farm house. The stable had burned down, and Danny was tied to a fence post. He was starved and very close to death, and Libby came to him just on time.
Libby and Georgina use horses for therapy with humans. For the sake of this story I just need to explain one of the principles they use in their therapy. One of the forms of therapy they use can help visitors make decisions or bring some clarity into their lives. They call this process ‘Journey with horses’.
At the time I was thirty-nine and my health was not in a great state. For months I had been taking tramadol for lower abdominal pain, but nothing was really touching it anymore. The gynaecologist in the hospital had given me a choice. I could either have a full hysterectomy or carry on with hormone injections. There were many ‘ifs and buts’ to consider. My age and the fact that I had no children, played a huge role in the choices I was left with. What we did next might sound crazy or even random to people, but it helped me at that moment. As far as I could see at that time, I had two choices. I could either have the operation or keep going with the injections. Before we started the journey, I allocated a choice to each horse. I didn’t say it out loud, just in my head.
I took a few minutes to clear my head then I stared playing my flute. I was using my favourite black crow flute on that day. A light-hearted melody came to me and I closed my eyes. My fingers were playing on automatic. It was a living tune that opened my heart and soothed my mind. I was transported to a peaceful place. I almost forgot where I was until I heard hooves on concrete coming towards me. I opened my eyes and it was Prada. She came really close and put her little whiskers on the flute. I tried to carry on playing but I didn’t want her to drool saliva over my flute, so I moved slightly. Prada moved with me. She kept her whiskers on the flute and stood right in front of me. As I kept on playing Prada moved her head to my abdominal region. I could feel her warm breath through my T-shirt. I tried to keep on playing as steadily as I could. It was a bit scary to be honest as she was a big horse. Next, she moved her nostrils next to my ear. It tickled and felt warm and wet. Meanwhile Danny just stood in one corner of the field. He hadn’t moved at all since I had started playing. His ears were pricked and he was completely still, but he did not move towards me like Prada had done. She kept her head next to mine. She was as close to me as she could possibly be.
I played for about five more minutes and when I finished, I could just hear them breathing heavily. Both horses were completely still. Prada turned her face towards me and gave me a little shove, as to say: ‘Stroke me’, so I did. Later Libby said, this was a real breakthrough for Prada as nobody was ever allowed to get anywhere near her. My friend handed me the brush to clean the mud off her. Prada let me do that as well. She felt warm and soft. I brushed her for about twenty minutes. At the end I held out an apple with my flat hand as a thank you and she took it from me and started munching away.
Although I was originally invited to pay the flute for the animals, they helped me in equal measure. Prada was the horse I allocated the surgery option. I know this seems a crazy way of making such a life changing decision, but it felt right for me. I was fed up with being in pain and I needed some normality back in my life and I believe that somehow Prada picked up on that. The horse somehow felt my area of pain. It was surreal. I know people have many different opinions on the topic of a hysterectomy and about having major surgery like that. I didn’t take the decision lightly, but Prada provided the nudge needed and it felt like the right choice.
Both of these unusual experiences have taught me to appreciate the small moments in life. The small moments, which make up most of the day, often go unnoticed as I am so wrapped up in finishing menial tasks and rushing on to the next. Playing the flute has taught me to be anchored in one particular moment. To listen to my inner self, become more rooted. When I play the flute, the sound gives me feedback, it mirrors my mind. Sometimes when I am in a low mood and I play, the sound is sombre and dark. It feels as if the mind is reflected in the sound. I made it a habit to play my flute outside.
I come from a region with a vast amount of forest. I try to go back to Germany at least twice a year. When I go there in the spring and summer it looks like an ocean of green. Trees as far as the eye can see. I have lived in the UK now for nineteen years and when people ask me what I miss the most I always say: the forest. My dad planted that seed inside me and it took root. He sadly passed away of cancer six years ago. In Germany it is prohibited by law to take the ashes. They have to be buried in a graveyard and only an official person is allowed to handle the urn. Had we been allowed we would have buried my father in the forest. All we were able to do was have a broad-leafed tree engraved on his headstone. We chose one that most closely resembled an oak, his favourite. Deep down I know that he would have approved
I live in Weymouth now with only a small woodland near Dorchester and I try to go there at least once a week. Outside in the forest I can just be myself. I don’t need to wear make-up or nice clothes. Nature accepts me like I am. It takes me in. I fit in. It is non-judgemental.
This story was published in the: University of Southampton MA Creative Writing Anthology 2019
My name was Britta Eckhardt-Potter but is now Britta Freemantle
Those of you that know me better, know that I completed an MA in Creative Writing. As part of that MA I started writing a book with the title: A different shade of green. This book is about my life in the UK and cultural clashes and funny stories etc.
Having moved back to Germany in 2019 made me even more aware of the fact that the grass is not greener on the other side, it is just a different shade of green.
After almost 20 years in the UK, I and still am struggling with certain German customs and just the general bureaucracy of the country.
I will write another post about certain details in a few days, because there are so many different levels. I also decided to finish my book. I need to get back into the writing mood and mode, as I would like to keep the funny tone going.
Moving country is of course not always funny and my husband is finding it much harder than me. In his case we rerouted an old tree. In my posts I will try show his side of moving countries as well.
As you can see, there is a lot of material I can use to finish my book.
There is one important fact I have learned by moving country twice: the grass is most certainly not greener, it is just a different shade of green. This applies to many situations in life as well.